“Presbyterian church.” An elderly woman’s cheery voice.
“Hi,” I say, “I was wondering if you could tell me if there’s a burial today.”
“Today? Hold on, sweetie.” Muffled conversation in the background. “Today? No, ma’am. We don’t have any burials scheduled for the rest of this week. What’s the name of the deceased?”
No burials today. Aiden Willis lied to me.
“I must have the wrong cemetery, my apologies. Thank you very much.”
Why would Aiden lie about his reason for being at the cemetery last night?
My cell phone buzzes in my hand. It’s from the substation.
“Murphy,” I say.
“Detective, it’s Margaret at the substation. Chief Marks wants to see you.”
“I’m on my way to my assignment,” I say.
“He said right now.”
I blow out air.
“He didn’t say it very nicely, either,” she adds in a quieter voice.
60
I TURN MY car around and drive to the substation. What assignment is Chief Marks going to give me now—school crossing guard?
By the time I enter his office, I’ve worked up a little attitude. How much worse can it get for me here?
Isaac takes his time reading a report, making me wait—purposeful, a show of authority—and starts talking to me without looking up. “Detective Murphy,” he says, “why are you asking people at the school about the Halloween BB gun shooting from seventeen years ago?”
I should have seen this coming. “I’m trying to figure out more about Noah Walker,” I say. “Who he hung around with. Who helped him shoot all those kids.”
“Helped him shoot those kids?” The chief drops his report. “Nobody helped Walker shoot those kids. He did it all by himself.”
I shake my head. “There was a second shooter.”
“No, there wasn’t. I was there. I was the same age as Noah. Same school.”
I’m well aware of that fact, Isaac.
“The angles of the shots fired,” I say. “And why was Noah just sitting on a bench by the school, waiting to get caught?”
“Are you kidding me? Because he’s a psychopath, Murphy. The kind that could slaughter a family and then sit next to you on a bus and engage in polite conversation. He had no remorse, no guilt, no sense that he’d even done anything wrong.” He leans forward in his chair. “And why are we even having this conversation? Why are you looking into this?”
“Because if Noah didn’t kill those people at 7 Ocean Drive, or my uncle, then someone sure made it look like he did.”
“Someone set him up … and someone set him up seventeen years ago, the school shooting, too? You’re actually trying to tie those two things together?”
I shrug. “Call it a hunch. But yeah. This is a really small town. It’s possible. Look, I’m doing the assignment you gave me. I’m doing this other stuff on my free time.”
“I don’t want you doing it on any time,” he says. “No more questions about a second shooter. No more investigations into 7 Ocean Drive or your uncle. Can I be any clearer?”
“No, you’re very clear, Chief,” I reply. “In fact, I’d like to compliment you on how clear you’re being, Chief. May I be excused, Chief?”
Isaac stares me down, his tongue rolling inside his cheek. He gets out of his seat and comes around the desk. I stand, too, so we’re face-to-face.
“Let’s go off the record,” he says.
“Let’s.”
“Nothing leaves this room.”
“Agreed.”
“What is this fascination with Noah Walker?”
“I don’t have a fas—”
“You want to fuck him, don’t you?”
I draw back. “What did you just say?”
Isaac throws up a hand in disgust. “Always the same with that guy. A juvenile fucking delinquent since the day I met him, but every girl in school fantasized about him. The kid’s never been anything but bad. Believe me, I know him a lot better than you, Murphy. Don’t be fooled by the movie-star good looks. That guy’s nothing but a bad seed.”
For a moment, I’m speechless. Isaac’s chest is heaving, his cheeks crimson. It’s like we’re replaying middle school here.
“Did he steal your girlfriend or something, Isaac?”
His eyes flare. He drives a finger into my chest. “Noah Walker killed those people at 7 Ocean Drive and Noah Walker killed your uncle. Noah Walker shot up that school all by himself. You will stop trying to prove otherwise. You will stop right now, or I’m pulling your badge.”
I hold my breath, willing myself to calm down. “You’re pathetic,” I say. “I mean, since we’re off the record.”
He nods, grins at me, coffee breath and stained teeth. “You think you’re untouchable, but you’re not. I’m going to run you out of here sooner or later.”
“Yeah? Good.” I turn and head for the door.
“Oh, and Murphy? Since we’re off the record?” He takes a breath and composes himself. “I thought your uncle was a worthless prick.”
61