“Only the killer knows that for certain, Buddy. But it seems to me the only reasonable option was by car.”
“But you got to Wheeler’s on foot.”
“So? I didn’t kill Clint Wheeler. C’mon, Buddy, you’re fishing here. You have nothing worth a damn, and frankly, you’re wasting both of our time.”
“Let’s talk about Richard Stark.”
“Stark?” she repeated, surprised.
“Yes.” He rocked back in his chair. “You have a theory about his murder.”
“You know I do.”
“Could you share it, for the sake of the video?”
Miranda understood what he was doing and it rankled. And she knew she should probably refuse and lawyer up. But it really pissed her off.
She looked directly at the camera. “I believe Richard Stark was a sexual predator and was killed by someone he abused.”
She felt a rush of satisfaction at Buddy’s surprise. He hadn’t expected her to make that statement, and now that she had, it was part of the official record.
Take that, asshole.
“Were you that person?”
Now it was she who was taken aback. “What?”
“Did you kill Richard Stark?”
“No! Absolutely not. I didn’t even know who Richard Stark was before I arrived that night.”
“Your prints were found at the scene.”
“I explained that.”
“So you did.”
The mildness of his tone slid along her nerve endings like an alarm. “Jake backed me up.”
“He did.” He paused. “At the time.”
She told herself to play it cool, even as a sick feeling rolled over her. That Buddy knew everything. That Jake had come clean about the gloves, the key, and the button.
She cocked her head. “He doesn’t anymore? I find that very … odd.”
“Why’s that? Because you two are in a relationship?”
For a split second, she couldn’t breathe. The moment passed. “No. Because Jake wouldn’t lie.”
“But he is loyal, isn’t he? And very … trusting.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Why do you think Stark had that news clipping about you in his drawer?”
“I told you before, I don’t know.”
“But you have a theory?”
“Yeah, some weird coincidence.”
“Why’d you lie to me, Miranda?”
It felt as if her heart plummeted to her stomach. She didn’t even blink. “Excuse me?”
“Why’d you lie to me?”
“When was that, Buddy?”
“This morning.”
“You’re mistaken.”
He settled his gaze on hers. Several seconds passed before he spoke. “Where’d you get the key, Miranda?”
She played dumb. “What key?”
“To the lockbox.” When she didn’t respond, he went on. “This morning, you said the key had been taken in as evidence from the Stark scene.”
“I don’t recall that.”
He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “There are a couple problems with that. One, you must have had the key on you because you opened the box at your home, in the middle of the night. Just to be certain, I checked with the desk sergeant—you weren’t in last night. And while I was at it, I reviewed the evidence log from the Stark scene. There was no key collected that night. Where’d you get the key, Miranda?”
She’d known it was a strong possibility Buddy would question that part of her account, but she’d taken the chance anyway. Now it looked like it might be her undoing.
“I’m not going to say another word until I have a lawyer.”
“Of course.” He stood but didn’t move away from the table. “It’s me, Buddy, you’re talking to. I was there that night, all those years ago.”
That night in June 2002. The night everything seemed to point to.
“You told Wheeler a story. One he didn’t believe.” He flipped open the folder on the table. Spun it around to face her.
A police report, she saw. She didn’t have to read it to know exactly what it said.
“He didn’t believe you, did he? It says right in the report.” He tapped the page. “In fact, he called you a liar.”
Miranda folded her arms across her chest, maintaining her silence.
“Before I came in here today, I reviewed this, Wheeler’s report. I noticed something I’d forgotten. Something about the story you told him.”
She cocked an eyebrow, playing it cool even as her mind raced. Where was he going with all this? And what else did he have?
“You said the person who bound you that night, bound you with packing tape. Isn’t that right?”
She didn’t respond and he went on. “Don’t you find it odd—an uncomfortable coincidence—that the man who called you a liar was shot in the back, then branded a liar? Using the exact material you claimed to have been restrained with that night?”
He paused, waiting. When she didn’t comment, he added, “And let’s not forget, you just happened to be out running and ‘found’ the body?” He made quotation marks with his fingers.
“I asked for a lawyer. And I’m not saying another thing until I have one.”
“If that’s how you want to play this, fine. But you know what? I think we’re done here for now.”
He stood and crossed to the video camera and turned it off, then collected the folder from the table. He used the moment to bend down close to her ear.
“I feel real bad about what happened to you back then,” he said, voice low. “But I’ve got a job to do. I hope you understand that … Randi.”
He straightened and motioned to the door. “Thanks for your time. I’ll be in touch.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
8:00 P.M.
Miranda walked out of the HPD a free woman. For now, she thought. Buddy wasn’t done with her yet, of that she had no doubt. She nodded a casual greeting to a couple officers on their way in, the picture of ease. Like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Inside, she was falling apart. She wanted to shout in anger, bang her fists in frustration, rail at the injustice of it. She settled for the vehicular equivalent—she tore out of the parking lot, tires squealing as she turned onto Railroad Avenue.
A moment later, acknowledging that drawing more attention to herself right now was not a good idea, she eased her foot off the gas.
Not knowing what else to do or where to go, she simply drove. She briefly considered going to Summer, but the last thing her friend needed right now was someone crying on her shoulder.
Head west, she thought. Jump onto I-10 and don’t stop until you reach the Pacific Ocean.
She used to promise herself she’d do that. Escape to California and never come back. Escape her family, and every memory of this godforsaken place. Start over, new and shiny bright.
Instead, she never left Jasper, not really. Even tonight it drew her back. She rolled onto Main Street, acknowledging how small and broken down it was. Once upon a time, it had been the center of her universe.
Maybe it still was.