When they shook hands, Jack took hers in a strong, callused paw. She wondered if his grip reflected the strength within him.
“Mr. McClelland,” she said, showing that she didn’t need an introduction to the attorney as she offered a handshake. His dark, bushy eyebrows made a solid slash over his eyes and were his most outstanding feature. McClelland had on his signature Stetson hat and Western suit that he wore during all seasons of the year, including summer. He stared at her nametag and repeated her name aloud while he shook her hand.
“Let me show you to the room where we’ll conduct the interview, and I’ll let Detective LoSasso know you’re here,” Mattie said.
“Thank you,” McClelland said, taking the lead.
Mattie ushered them into the interview room, where four hard-plastic chairs sat around a utilitarian stainless-steel-topped table. There were no other furnishings, and Mattie had always considered the place cold and bare.
“I’ll get us another chair,” she said, leaving to go to the staff office, where Robo was having a midday nap on his cushion. When she returned with a plastic chair she’d found beside one of the staff desks, McClelland had arranged three of the others on the far side of the table. She placed the one she had in hand next to the chair in front before leaving them alone again.
She found Stella in Sheriff McCoy’s office, evidently talking strategy. “They’re waiting. McClelland’s got them all sitting on one side of the table. A united front.”
“That’s fine,” Stella said. “We’ll see how cooperative they plan to be and take it from there. I know I’m going to want this kid’s DNA, and Sheriff McCoy can get us a warrant if we have to go that way.”
Mattie nodded and then followed Stella to the interview room, where all was silent. She wondered if even a word had been said in her absence. The three men stood when she and Stella entered the room, shaking hands with Stella as she introduced herself.
McClelland smiled warmly at the detective while he assured her he remembered her well. Stella had once interviewed him as a person of interest during the Grace Hartman investigation, and he’d ended up asking her to dinner, which the detective had declined.
“Let’s all have a seat,” Stella said, taking direction of the interview, and the three settled back into their chairs, with Brooks seated between the two men. “Thank you for coming in with Brooks today, Mr. Waverly. Your son has come to our attention as someone who can provide us with information regarding the death of one of our local students, Candace Banks.”
Jack inclined his head slightly, but it was McClelland who spoke. “I want it made clear for the record that Brooks Waverly and his father are here today of their own free will and plan to provide whatever information they can for the purpose of assisting you with your investigation. As long as said information is for said purpose and not aimed at an attempt to deceive or maneuver culpability on the part of my client in the aforementioned young lady’s death.”
Stella sat back in her chair and aimed her too-sweet smile directly at the attorney. Mattie knew the detective well enough to tell that she was suppressing laughter. “Mr. McClelland, believe me when I say that I would never attempt to deceive or maneuver. You’ll know what information I need and why I need it when we get there.”
And with that, Stella turned her full attention to the teen. “Do you know Candace Banks, Brooks?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Have you called her on her cell phone and texted her?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Is she one of your friends?”
Brooks squirmed slightly. “You might say so.”
“How did a girl from the junior high get to be one of your friends?”
“She’s friends with a lot of us older kids.”
“Is that unusual, older kids befriending someone that much younger?”
Brooks looked down at the table. “Not really.”
“I have her cell phone, Brooks. I’ve read the texts, seen the pictures.”
Brooks blanched.
“I need to see that cell phone,” McClelland interjected.
Stella gave him a withering look. “You’re way ahead of yourself, Counselor. It’s not available, nor is it appropriate, for you to see it at this point.” She shifted her attention back to Brooks. “Please explain your relationship with Candace, Brooks.”
Jack Waverly turned sideways in his chair so he could look at his son, but Brooks kept his face tilted downward toward the table. “I . . . I was having sex with her,” he muttered, barely audible.
Jack’s eyes narrowed, and he shifted slightly away from his son, but he didn’t say a word. Well coached by his attorney, Mattie thought.
“Let me clarify. You were having sex with a thirteen-year-old girl. Were other boys at the high school having sex with Candace?” Stella asked, evidently wanting to see how much Brooks would say.
“Yes.” Brooks looked up at Stella, possibly seeing a way to avoid being singled out. “A bunch of guys have had sex with her. She’s willing to put out for anyone. She . . .” His words trailed off as he apparently realized he wasn’t making himself look any better.
Stella prompted him. “She what?”
Brooks shook his head, looking down at the table. “I was going to say she was the town tramp, but that’s not a very nice thing to say about her.”
“Especially now that she’s dead, right?” Stella tapped a nail on the table. “Tell me about the last appointment you had scheduled with her.”
Brooks swallowed. “The one yesterday?”
“Wait, Brooks,” McClelland said. “What appointment are we talking about, Detective?”
“Brooks had an appointment scheduled with Candace Banks at three thirty yesterday afternoon. It’s documented in the cell phone texts.”
“I never saw her,” Brooks said to McClelland. “She wasn’t there.”
McClelland seemed to be considering the information and then nodded. “Go ahead.”
“I was supposed to meet Candace on Smoker’s Hill . . . yeah, at the time you said. But I got hung up in a meeting with the coach about baseball practice, and by the time I got up there, she’d left. She wasn’t where we were supposed to meet. I figured she’d gone home, so I left too.”
Brooks fanned his hands, palms down, on the table, and Mattie noticed scabs on most of his knuckles. He’d worn a long-sleeve T-shirt, so she couldn’t see if he had scratches on his forearms. She’d already looked at his feet to see what type of shoes he wore—tennis shoes, like the other boys had worn, not smooth-soled boots. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been wearing boots yesterday.
“What time did you go up the hill?” Stella asked.
“I left the gym about four o’clock. I remember checking the time on my way out.”
“We’ll be confirming your story with the coach, Brooks,” Stella warned.
“It’s the truth.”
“Who else has been with Candace?” Stella asked.
Brooks studied the detective’s face. “I’d rather not rat out anyone. Besides, if you have the cell phone, then you already know.”
Stella smiled at him, but somehow, there was no humor in it. “You might reconsider your position on that. This is a homicide investigation. Homicide. That means someone killed Candace. Withholding information is a crime.”
McClelland raised his bushy unibrow and turned to his client. “It’s not ratting out your friends, Brooks, it’s cooperating. Go ahead and say what you know about the others.”
Brooks wore a strained look on his face, but he gave up the names of the two boys who’d already been interviewed as well as two others.