Lucas wondered what this kid had been like before he improved. Lucas also pondered Coulter’s knowing who he was and the movement he had seen on the hills in front of his trailer that morning. Despite the wondering, when the interview was over, Lucas only knew that Coulter did not have an alibi for last night. Not much.
The principal had enjoyed the interrogation, so after expressing halfhearted reservations, he allowed the detective to interview the rest of the victims’ children and stepchildren, but not the McCarty’s Creek teenager. That would require parental permission.
As it turned out, not being able to talk to the boy from McCarty’s Creek didn’t matter. Interviewing the remaining children took four and a half hours, and school was out by then anyway.
Lucas walked down the empty school corridors and thought about the day. Except for Coulter’s attitude and a shaky alibi, none of the interviews had provided an iota of a clue as to possible connections between the children or with the murders of their parents.
What a waste of time, Lucas thought. Unless, of course, Coulter panned out. He figured the chances of that were about as good as Detective Spurlock finding something on B. R. Matthews. It was doubly depressing to think he was following in Spurlock’s footsteps.
Lucas’s head was down in thought, so he didn’t see the secretary when she walked out the door. He bumped into her and grabbed her elbow to keep the woman from falling.
She pushed her glasses up her nose indignantly. “They did it, didn’t they?”
Lucas released her elbow. “Who?”
She looked up and down the hall and whispered, “Joe Coulter and William Barrett.”
Lucas wasn’t surprised at Coulter. He didn’t understand her suspicion of Barrett. He was the kid from McCarty’s Creek.
Lucas shrugged. “I don’t know.” He wanted to gain her confidence, so he emulated her caution and looked toward both ends of the empty hall. He said quietly, “Why do you think William Barrett had anything to do with it?”
“Dungeons and Dragons.”
“What?”
“In the library. Every day during lunch. He plays Dungeons and Dragons on the computer.” The secretary pushed her glasses up again and nodded knowingly. “It’s Satan’s work.”
Lucas was tired. He’d had precious little sleep the night before. Now he wanted to go home, have a beer, and go to sleep.
But he couldn’t. He hadn’t talked to William Barrett yet. Lucas had thought that could wait, but the secretary’s revelation changed his mind. For Lucas Anderson, unraveling Teal County crime was his life. Other than his trailer and the Toyota, his reputation for doing that was all he had.
He drove to McCarty’s Creek.
The Barrett house sat on the crest of a hill that overlooked the subdivision. To its rear was a pasture that had provided a clear shot from the woods on the other side. William Barrett’s father had been sitting next to the pool drinking a gin and tonic when he was shot.
Lucas talked to the mother first. She was reluctant to allow the detective to question her son. She said he was just recovering from the shock of his father’s death. She added that shortly before the murder, his father had told William that he had been adopted as an infant. Two jolts within a month. Now, his grades had improved and he was beginning to lose some of his lifelong shyness. She didn’t want him traumatized again.
Lucas told her that his questions would be gentle. He wouldn’t discuss the murder. He only wanted to ask William about some other students at school. Finally, the mother agreed.
When the mother left the living room to find her son, Lucas took advantage of her absence to look around. It had been over a year since he had been in the home, and at the time he hadn’t focused on it. The murderer had obviously not come near the house. In fact, Lucas had seen nothing of it except this living room, where the victim’s wife had answered questions about her husband.
The living room featured French doors that led to the pool area. Doors to the right led to a dining room, the kitchen, and the entrance foyer with stairs to the second story. A door to the left was closed. Lucas approached it, looked around, turned the knob quietly, and pushed it gently. The door swung open to reveal a study.
A fireplace surrounded by bricks stood on the opposite side of the room from where Lucas stood. There was a massive desk to his right. The pictures hanging on the wall behind the desk were shots of William’s father while he was in the marines. An elaborate and fully stocked wet bar stood next to the desk. Lucas’s attention was drawn to the wall to the left of the fireplace.
A finely crafted teak display cabinet ran the length of the wall. The detective wanted to go look, but was afraid William and his mother would return. He had no warrant and the door had been closed. He didn’t want to find something that he couldn’t use in court. That drove him crazy because the cabinet was filled with weapons.
Colonel Barrett had been a collector. The case contained pistols, shotguns, and rifles. The distance from the door was too great for Lucas to identify the rifles, but he assumed several were capable of firing a .223-caliber round at a hundred yards with accuracy. When Lucas heard footsteps coming down the stairs, he closed the door and returned to the chair in which he had been sitting.
The boy walked behind his mother. She reached back and tugged on his arm before he came into full view. William was small for his age. His pale face contained delicate features. His hair was of medium length and bangs fell across his forehead. When he moved to the sofa to sit, Lucas noticed his graceful gait. Lucas wondered how Colonel Barrett had felt about the feminine son he had adopted.
Lucas said he was investigating the father’s death and apologized for bringing up a painful memory. The boy nodded. Lucas questioned him as he had the others and heard similar answers. William knew some of the other victims’ children, but none were close friends. He had seen Joe Coulter, but had never talked to him. He had spent the previous evening alone in his room playing Nintendo. His voice was flat.
When Lucas asked about Dungeons and Dragons, William’s mother spoke. “You weren’t supposed to play that anymore.”
For the first time William’s face showed some emotion. His thin, rosy lips pressed together and his eyes narrowed. “That’s when I was younger. I’m older now.”
His mother glanced at Lucas. “We’ll talk about that later.”
Lucas tried to figure out some way to be invited to look at the guns in the den, but couldn’t think how to do it. He didn’t want to spook the boy.
Not yet, anyway.
Something was all over his face, licking and yapping. Lucas reflexively swatted at it and felt something furry go flying, followed by a yelp. He opened his eyes, and in the reflection from the light of the full moon that seeped through the jalousied window above his head, saw a snow-white blob of fur jump at him from the floor. He swung again, harder, and this time the dog got the message. This time she stayed on the floor and yipped.
Lucas rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock radio. Four forty-five. He leaned over the edge of his bed and yelled, “Shut up!”
Responding to the attention, Fluffy jumped up and down and increased her pitch.
After throwing his pillow at the frenetic dog, Lucas sat up and subtracted. This time, it wasn’t difficult. He’d collapsed at nine the night before, and immediately knew he’d had plenty of sleep. He got up, opened the metal door of his trailer to let the dog out, and started the coffee maker.