“Obviously not,” said Corey, and he smiled.
I stared at him, trying to decipher his thoughts. I was better at reading people now than I used to be, but that wasn’t saying much. He was calm, confident, even teasing us slightly. In complete control of the situation. Was he trying to provoke us, or lord over us the power he wielded? The cops walked past us, so close one brushed my arm with his uniform. One sentence from Corey, and a corroborating testimony from Paul, would make us the prime suspects in a horrific murder. The cops walked by, and Corey said nothing. What was he doing? What did he want?
“Come over here,” said Corey. “Let me introduce you to my friends.” He started walking back toward Paul and the girls, but Brook and I stood still.
“What’s going on?” she whispered.
“No idea.”
Corey stopped and looked back. “Come on.”
“Play along for now,” I said. “This is what we came here for.”
We walked toward the group and saw that the two girls Paul was talking to looked almost identical, though one was clearly older than the other. Sisters?
“Hey guys,” said Corey. The three looked up at us, and Paul’s eyes bugged out in surprise. “This is Dave and Marci,” said Corey. “Can I call you Dave?”
“I prefer David,” I said.
“Sweet,” he said. “You already know Paul. This is his girlfriend, Brielle, and her sister Jessica.”
“I’m not his girlfriend,” said the older of the two girls. Brielle, then. She rolled her eyes, but laughed as she did it. She looked about our age, and I guessed that Jessica was closer to fourteen.
“Where are you from?” asked Jessica.
“Kentucky,” said Brooke.
“That’s pretty far away,” said Corey. “What brings you here?”
“Just passing through,” I said.
“That’s what you told us Saturday,” hissed Paul, his brow furrowed in anger. “Now our best friend is dead—”
“Easy,” said Corey. “They weren’t even here, they were in…?” He left the sentence open for me to fill it in; I couldn’t ignore it without making myself look even more suspicious.
“Oklahoma City,” I said. I couldn’t think of any smaller towns in the area fast enough, but I guessed a big city would be easier to lie about anyway. Nobody could disprove our story.
“They were making out in the drive-in Saturday night,” said Paul, obviously still furious. “We showed up just goofing around and this bastard pulls a—”
“We got off on the wrong foot,” said Corey. “And since you and Derek were more than a little drunk, that’s perfectly understandable.”
“Gross,” said Brielle. “Again? No wonder you didn’t answer my texts.”
“We were just out walking around,” said Paul. “It was nothing.”
“Shh,” said Jessica. “They’re starting.”
We looked toward the front, and saw Pastor Nash step up to the lectern and adjust the microphone. “Friends and neighbors,” he said, “thank you for coming here today on this solemn and tragic occasion. We all mourn the passing of Derek Stamper, and we send our love to his parents, who are still at the police station working closely with the investigators. But we have work of our own to do, and for that I turn the time over to Officer Davis of the state police.” The pastor stepped back and sat, and one of the officers stood up—older than the others, with close-cropped hair much more silver than black, and a beard about the same length and color wrapped around his face and chin.
“Is that Ms. Glassman’s brother?” I whispered.
“No,” said Corey. “Her brother’s name is Officer Glassman.”
I glanced at him, seeing just the hint of a smug smile. I supposed it was obvious enough, but only if you knew Ms. Glassman used her maiden name. Now we did. Did that tell us anything?
Most of the shadows are empty, I reminded myself.
Officer Davis stepped toward the lectern, looked at it uneasily, then took a few steps to the side.