I sighed and bit the inside of my cheek in frustration before caving. “Well enough.”
“Would you say you shared the same relationship with Mason Carter as what you did with Lucas?”
“Since you already know I was best friends with Lucas, you’ve obviously been talking to someone who’s told you this. Which means you most likely already know the answers to the questions you’re inquiring about today.”
“We just want to hear it from you. You were their neighbor. You were best friends with Lucas Carter. Best friends usually tell each other their secrets. By all accounts, you and Lucas were incredibly tight.”
I felt rage boil deep within. Lucas Carter was the gentlest soul I’d ever met, and for them to sit across from me and imply he wasn’t was an injustice.
“There’s a reason why I was best friends with Lucas,” I replied with bite. “Because he was a genuinely good person. Mason Carter was the opposite, which is why I had little to do with him. Like I said to you on Friday night, I haven’t seen either since they left over ten years ago. So instead of nosing in on my relationship with the Carter brothers, why don’t you tell me a bit more about what this is about?”
“Bones,” Walsh conceded. She watched intently, and despite my pounding heart, I gave her nothing. “Bones were discovered deep in Little Valley woods. While we are yet to make a positive ID on the remains, we are almost certain it will close a decade-old missing person’s case. We’ve done the rounds around Dangerfield Drive where our suspected victim was frequently seen, and fingers are pointing toward the Carter residence. More specifically, the Carter brothers.”
While my mouth was dry, my palms were furiously sweating. I shifted in my seat uncomfortably, weighing up the pros and cons of discussing anything further with the detectives.
If I divulged what I saw, Lucas would be brought into question, possibly imprisoned for something that had Mason written all over it. Lucas always had his back, and that night was no exception. If I told, Mason would seek the retribution he always promised.
If I maintained my silence, the detectives would be without a massive piece of evidence to solve the crime and Lucas wouldn’t become collateral damage. Mason would see I kept my word and go on with life as normal.
“Ms. Sinclair?” Detective Walsh tilted her head again in question bringing me back to the present.
“Yes?”
“You drifted off there, is everything okay?” She wasn’t asking out of care. Her tone was rightly loaded with suspicion.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“Ms. Sinclair, are you planning on traveling anywhere in the next two weeks?”
I shook my head clearing the haze. “Ahh… possibly to my parents’ house in Maine.”
Detective Walsh pulled a small notebook from her breast pocket and tossed it in front of me. “Would you mind providing the address of your parents’ house in the event you do leave?” Her eyes met mine. “For your safety, of course.”
“Fine,” I said, nodding, feeling the situation slipping from my grasp. Absently opening the desk drawer, I reached for my pen. Instead, I was pricked by something sharp.
“Ouch!” I muttered turning my gaze to the culprit.
A single rose lay on top of my organized stationary, its stem covered in razor-sharp thorns. A Post-it note was positioned under it, a message scrawled across it.
Shh!
Mason had been in here, snooping around my space, making his presence known. I slammed the drawer closed before anyone else noticed. My finger pad beaded with blood, and I snatched a tissue from the box located at the front of my desk.
“Are you okay?” Walsh asked again, this time with a bemused smile. My continually odd behavior was raising her suspicions.
“I’m fine.”
“Yes, you say that a lot. Your behavior tells me otherwise.”
“Look, I will assist you in any way I can,” I placated. “And I’ll contact you if need be. But for now…” I stood up and smoothed my skirt, “… I do have to attend to another pressing issue, and that’s our overnight break-in.”
The Detectives didn’t move.
“Was anything stolen?”
“Ahh…” I rubbed my temple in suppressed frustration. “No. Just vandalized.”
“Seems like a dangerous mission to break into an institution such as this just to destroy someone’s work.”
My patience was up.
“Detective Walsh, people do crazy things without a second thought. Especially when it’s personal.”
She gave a knowing smile, one I found overly patronizing. “Yes, yes they do, Ms. Sinclair.”
They both stood and made to leave before Walsh stopped by the door. “Just remember, hate-fueled crimes of the personal nature are often the worst.”
Chapter 5
THEN
“The Blackwells are hosting the annual street party this year. God save us all,” my mother began, shaking her head in disbelief.
We were nearing the end of our four-hour road trip back home after a week’s holiday in New Jersey. Pulling into Little Valley, my father navigated the streets at the regulated forty miles per hour allowing my mother plenty of opportunities to whine about the Blackwells. “Do you know there’s a rumor Shelley Blackwell was responsible for the food poisoning outbreak with her chicken casserole last year, and now she’s in charge of organizing this year’s!” My mother’s voice became high pitched toward the end, incredulous over the anointing of the newly-in-charge.
“I, for one…” she continued as a matter of fact, “… will not be risking a weekend locked in the bathroom because of her lack of hygiene.”
“I ate the chicken casserole last year, and I never got sick,” my father bravely interjected.
I watched from the middle back seat as my parents dueled it out, but I was more eager to pull into Dangerfield Drive and see Lucas.
Less than a minute later we turned left into our street. Sprinklers were casting their watery halos over already plush green grass, and the smell of fresh cut lawns gave the feeling of home. The Carter residence no longer looked a part of the neighborhood, ever since Mr. Carter left. The grass was never watered, and the roses Mrs. Carter once took pride in were nothing but short, undernourished twigs. But there, up ahead standing at the end of the driveway, was Lucas. I smiled excitedly when he waved, my father’s humored eyes catching mine in the rearview mirror.
“He could smell you coming from down the street,” he teased.
I gently punched his arm, and he feigned injury like he’d been hit by a professional boxer. Giggling at his response, I slipped over to the left side of the backseat and gave Lucas a small smile as we turned into our drive.
Before we had come to a complete stop, I was out the door and crossing from my yard to his. Lucas’s smile widened when we met with open arms, and he wrapped me up tightly. We were more than just friends. We were kindred spirits. Lucas had lost weight. More than he should have lost within the timeframe I was gone.
“That was the longest week ever,” I mused against his neck.
“I barely noticed you were gone,” he quipped, which earned him a poke to the ribs. We pulled away, and it was then I noticed Mason. He was sitting on the driveway behind his upturned bike which was currently minus one wheel.
“Hi, Mason,” I greeted quietly and without the fanfare given to Lucas.
“Hi,” was all he replied, hardened eyes meeting mine through the wheel spokes.
“Can we go?” I asked, turning my attention back to Lucas.
“Your chariot awaits.” He kicked up the stand, and I hopped onto the handlebars while he kept the bike steady. As we cruised down the drive and onto the street, we both turned at the sound of a crash, metal against concrete followed by cussing. Mason angrily kicked at his bike that now sat in a deformed heap.
My parents who were still unloading the car stopped momentarily to watch the display. Mason Carter’s behavior was not news to anyone on the street, especially to my parents.