“What?” Noah asked.
Gary sneered, his body spilling over his desk chair. “My backpack, you little shit. I know it was you.”
If Gary knew it was him, he wouldn’t be calling Noah into his office; he’d have beat his ass in the parking lot like he’d tried to do the other night.
He relaxed somewhat, knowing this wasn’t about his recent home invasion. “Dude, I didn’t take any backpack. Why do you have such a hard-on for the idea of me being the one who did it?”
Gary’s expression grew smug, as if he had somehow put Noah in checkmate. “Because Bianca saw you in my office.”
Fucking Bianca. She was one of Gary’s latest hookups, a barely legal dancer with a pill problem and delusions of grandeur. She was certain she was going to fuck her way into becoming the queen of Gary’s crumbling stripper empire. Hell, maybe she was right. But she was annoying as shit, a relentless gossip, and a huge fucking snitch, always starting trouble for the others. Everybody hated her. Except Gary.
“I wasn’t even working that night,” Noah reminded him.
“You were working the night before, though. You could easily have taken it then.”
He had taken it then. Gary was right.
“You were the only one anybody saw near my office.”
Noah didn’t miss a beat. “You told me to drop my updated time card on your desk, remember? After I forgot to punch out the other night?” It was a blatant fucking lie, but Gary had a massive drinking problem and a memory like Swiss cheese. “Did you not see my time card right on your desk?” He hadn’t because none of this had ever happened, but he could see Gary furiously trying to search the depths of his memory for any hint that it was true. Time to drive home his point. He infused as much hurt into his voice as he could manage considering how much he hated the man. “Have I ever stolen shit from you?”
Gary’s gaze jerked to Noah, examining him shrewdly for a long while before looking momentarily mollified. “No, I suppose not.”
While Noah’s outward expression never changed, inside the knot tied around his stomach loosened. “Can I go now? It’s almost time for my half hour.”
Instead of dismissing him like he usually would, Gary leaned back in his office chair, the components groaning in protest. “Who’s your friend with the fancy car?”
Fuck. Once more, Noah gave a confused look. “Huh?” he asked, trying to buy himself more time.
Gary narrowed his eyes. “There was a Land Rover parked outside your tin can the other night. When you were fucked up. You banging a drug dealer or a gang banger, kid?”
Noah couldn’t help but laugh. “You know any drug dealers who drive a mom car or who would openly admit to being gay? Much less park their eighty thousand dollar vehicle outside my trailer?”
Gary didn’t answer, scowling. “So, who was he?”
Noah shrugged, honestly baffled by this sudden line of interrogation. He’d never enquired about a single hookup from Noah’s past. “Just a friend.”
Gary scoffed. “A friend?”
“Yeah, a friend. Like you and my dad were friends,” Noah said flatly.
Gary’s spine stiffened, his fat fingers flexing on the arm of the chair. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Noah did his best to school his features into a mask of innocence. “Just that you and my father were friends.” Gary studied Noah, like he couldn’t quite figure out if he was full of shit. Might as well test the perimeter a little bit. He sighed, doing his best to at least appear sorrowful. “Can I ask you a question? About my dad?”
Gary hesitated until it was almost awkward before finally saying, “Yeah. Sure, kid.”
“I’ve been thinking about my dad a lot, and I don’t have anything of his. Do you know what happened to his stuff after he died? After I went into the system? Like, did they just throw it all away?”
Gary’s cheek twitched like the question had come with an electrical jolt. He cleared his throat, then sniffed, running a hand over his graying stubble. “Some of it ended up in the trash, some things were thrown away. He kept most of his stuff in storage, but I didn’t have the key or any claim to it, so I’m sure it was auctioned off.”
Could Adam’s key be the key to his father’s storage unit? He filed that information away for later. “That sucks. It’s not fair, you know? My dad was a good man, dedicated his life to being an educator. I have nothing to remember him by. And the more I think about the person who killed him, the angrier I get, you know?” He threw a hand up in a frustrated gesture. “One minute, he was there, the next, gone. But it’s weird. So many of my memories of him are just…gone, too? Like he took them with him. I really don’t remember much of being a kid. That’s weird, right? I know my dad and I were close. Shouldn’t I remember more?”
Gary shifted in his seat. “Eh, everybody deals with shit different, you know? You and your dad were tight. He was a good guy. He really loved you.”
Yeah, too much, Noah thought, doing his best to control the shudder wanting to roll over him.
Gary was sweating now, tiny beads of perspiration forming over his lip and hairline. Flop sweat. He was lying through his yellowing teeth. “I sometimes remember little flashes, but I don’t even know if they’re real or, like…dreams. Did you and my dad ever take me fishing?”
Noah was really walking a fine line. If Gary put together Noah’s current line of questioning along with the broken picture of the cabin, there was a very good chance he would no longer think the broken frame was an accident.
But Gary just frowned like he couldn’t remember exactly. “Yeah, that sounds familiar. Your dad and I used to head out to my family’s old cabin in the woods. I think we brought you along once or twice.”