Hodges parks his Prius fifty feet or so down from the high school’s main entrance. He’s on a yellow curb, but he has an old POLICE CALL card in his glove compartment, which he saves for just such parking problems. He places it on the dashboard. When the bell rings, he gets out of the car and leans against the hood with his arms folded, watching the bank of doors. Engraved about the entrance is the school’s motto: EDUCATION IS THE LAMP OF LIFE. Hodges has his phone in one hand, ready to either make or receive a call, depending on who comes out or doesn’t.
The wait isn’t long, because Pete Hodges is among the first group of students to burst into the June day and come hurrying down the wide granite steps. Most of the kids are with friends. The Saubers boy is alone. Not the only one flying solo, of course, but there’s a set look to his face, as if he’s living in the future instead of the here and now. Hodges’s eyes are as good as they ever were, and he thinks that could be the face of a soldier going into battle.
Or maybe he’s just worried about finals.
Instead of heading toward the yellow buses parked beside the school on the left, he turns right, toward where Hodges is parked. Hodges ambles to meet him, speed-dialing Holly as he goes. ‘I’ve got him. Tell Jerome.’ He cuts the call without waiting for her to answer.
The boy angles to go around Hodges on the street side. Hodges steps in front of him. ‘Hey, Pete, got a minute?’
The kid’s eyes snap front and center. He’s good-looking, but his face is too thin and his forehead is spotted with acne. His lips are pressed so tightly together that his mouth is almost gone. ‘Who are you?’ he asks. Not Yes sir or Can I help you. Just Who are you. The voice as tight-wired as the face.
‘My name is Bill Hodges. I’d like to talk to you.’
Kids are passing them, chattering, elbowing, laughing, shooting the shit, adjusting backpacks. A few glance at Pete and the man with the thinning white hair, but none show any interest. They have places to go and things to do.
‘About what?’
‘In my car would be better. So we can have some privacy.’ He points at the Prius.
The boy repeats, ‘About what?’ He doesn’t move.
‘Here’s the deal, Pete. Your sister Tina is friends with Barbara Robinson. I’ve known the Robinson family for years, and Barb persuaded Tina to come and talk to me. She’s very worried about you.’
‘Why?’
‘If you’re asking why Barb suggested me, it’s because I used to be a police detective.’
Alarm flashes in the boy’s eyes.
‘If you’re asking why Tina’s worried, that’s something we’d really be better off not discussing on the street.’
Just like that the look of alarm is gone and the boy’s face is expressionless again. It’s the face of a good poker player. Hodges has questioned suspects who are able to wipe their faces like that, and they are usually the ones who are toughest to crack. If they crack at all.
‘I don’t know what Tina said to you, but she’s got nothing to worry about.’
‘If what she told me is true, she might.’ Hodges gives Pete his best smile. ‘Come on, Pete. I’m not going to kidnap you. Swear to God.’
Pete nods reluctantly. When they reach the Prius, the kid stops dead. He’s reading the yellow card on the dashboard. ‘Used to be a police detective, or still are?’
‘Used to be,’ Hodges says. ‘That card … call it a souvenir. Comes in handy sometimes. I’ve been off the force and collecting my pension for five years. Please get in so we can talk. I’m here as a friend. If we stand out here much longer, I’m going to melt.’
‘And if I don’t?’
Hodges shrugs. ‘Then you’re off.’
‘Okay, but only for a minute,’ Pete says. ‘I have to walk home today so I can stop at the drugstore for my father. He takes this stuff, Vioxx. Because he got hurt a few years ago.’
Hodges nods. ‘I know. City Center. That was my case.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah.’
Pete opens the passenger door and gets into the Prius. He doesn’t seem nervous about being in a strange man’s car. Careful and cautious, but not nervous. Hodges, who has done roughly ten thousand suspect and witness interviews over the years, is pretty sure the boy has come to a decision, although he can’t tell if it’s to spill what’s on his mind or keep it to himself. Either way, it won’t take long to find out.
He goes around and gets in behind the wheel. Pete is okay with that, but when Hodges starts the engine, he tenses up and grabs the doorhandle.
‘Relax. I only want the air-conditioning. It’s damn hot, in case you didn’t notice. Especially for so early in the year. Probably global warm—’
‘Let’s get this over with so I can pick up my dad’s scrip and go home. What did my sister tell you? You know she’s only thirteen, right? I love her to death, but Mom calls her Tina the Drama Queen-a.’ And then, as if this explains everything, ‘She and her friend Ellen never miss Pretty Little Liars.’
Okay, so the initial decision is not to talk. Not all that surprising. The job now is to change his mind.
‘Tell me about the cash that came in the mail, Pete.’
No tensing up; no uh-oh look flashing across the kid’s face. He knew that was it, Hodges thinks. He knew as soon as his sister’s name came up. He might even have had advance warning. Tina could have had a change of heart and texted him.
‘You mean the mystery money,’ Pete says. ‘That’s what we call it.’