“But we hear about these kind of murders all the time,” said the man. “You don’t need a degree in criminology to know that this wasn’t a crime of passion—whoever did it took their time, and that sounds a hell of a lot like a serial killer to me.” There were murmurs of assent, and Officer Davis raised his voice to speak over them.
“The time the killer spent is definitely a factor in our investigation,” he said. “But I remind you that without more information, that extra time might mean anything—it might be a serial killer, but it might just as easily be a moment of passion that got out of hand, followed by a desperate and failed attempt to hide the body. I apologize for speaking so bluntly, but this is important and I want to make sure you understand: there are multiple explanations for literally every aspect of this case, and we don’t have enough information at this point to even narrow it down, let alone pick the one right answer. We’re not here to guess what happened, we’re here to find the truth—and you want to find the truth, too, so don’t guess. Don’t jump to conclusions. Don’t start spinning out scenarios based on untested assumptions, because that will tear this town apart.”
“Phrasing,” murmured Corey.
“Thank you for coming,” said Officer Davis. “I’ll be in Pastor Nash’s office for the next hour if anyone wants to talk to me. If you’d rather do it in private our tip line is open twenty-four hours a day. Please enjoy the refreshments.” People shouted out questions, but he descended from the podium and walked with the pastor into the back room.
“This is just creepy,” said Jessica.
“Duh,” said Paul.
Brielle swatted his leg. “He was your best friend, idiot.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” said Paul. “We don’t have to say that my best friend’s murder is creepy, because duh. What else would it be?”
“You can at least be nice about it,” said Brielle. “Jessica didn’t kill him, don’t take it out on her.”
“All I said was duh!” said Paul.
“Oh good,” said Sara Glassman, walking up to us, “you’ve found some other kids already.” A man was with her, but she seemed more annoyed by him than anything. “And these are good kids—I vouch for them all as their librarian.”
“She’s a great librarian!” said the man with a smile.
Sara ignored him. “Speaking of libraries, Jessica, have you finished Sherlock? It’s overdue again.”
“Finished it how many times?” asked Brielle.
“Can I hang on to it just a little bit longer?” asked Jessica. “I’m trying to write a script for one of the stories.”
“Like, for a movie?” asked Brooke.
“I want to put it on YouTube,” said Jessica, looking down at the floor and lowering her voice almost to a whisper.
“Cool,” said the man. “Maybe we could show it in the library.”
Sara sighed. “Randy, we need to have a talk.” She led him away, and Brielle snickered.
“Randy’s in love with her,” said Brielle, “and she can’t convince him she’s not interested.”
“He’s like a puppy,” said Jessica.
Corey and I stayed silent, watching and listening.
“I want some cookies before they’re gone,” said Paul. “Bree, you want anything?”
“Let’s go.” Brielle stood up, took his hand, and they walked to the crowd at the refreshment table. Jessica looked at Brooke and I—and Corey—uncomfortably, then slipped after them. Ingrid walked toward us.
“You realize what we have to do now,” said Ingrid. “A neighborhood-watch program.” She took a tiny bite of banana bread and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “It’ll help us catch any suspicious activity, but it’ll also help us control any accusations before they get out of hand.” She looked at Corey. “Would your parents be interested in joining a neighborhood-watch program?”
“I don’t see why not,” said Corey. “I can go ask them.” He looked at me one last time, a kind of noncommittal acknowledgment that was neither a smile nor a frown, and walked away.
“I haven’t talked to Beth yet,” said Ingrid, “but she goes along with everything. And I’m sure I can get Sara involved as well.”
“We’re in too,” I said.
“You don’t need to trouble yourselves,” said Ingrid. “You’re not even really a part of the neighborhood.”
“It’s the least we can do,” said Brooke. “You’ve helped us, and we want to help you.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Ingrid. “Say what you will about the youth of America, we raise them right in Dillon. And wherever you’re from.”
A neighborhood-watch program would give us the perfect excuse to wander through the town learning about people. Our plan was working out perfectly.
But Attina had a plan of his own, and Corey’s behavior had convinced me that I had no idea what that plan was.
16
I took a bite of whatever I’d picked up from the refreshment table, not paying attention to what it was. “Talk to Corey,” I said to Brooke.