“Ah. Did you and Arlette see each other outside of school hours to talk about your shared interest of vampire books?”
“Yes, as often as we could.”
“Would you meet at her house?”
She paused. “Sometimes. But her uncle hated when she had people over. He complained he wanted to watch his TV in peace and quiet without loud teenagers around.”
“How was her relationship with her uncle?”
“In front of other people, like tribal members, he acted as if he liked having her around. But when it was just them two and her aunt? He wasn’t nice to her, and she heard him say he couldn’t wait until she was gone.”
My gaze narrowed. “Did you hear him say that?”
“Once. On one of the rare times I stayed over at her house. I needed a drink of water, and I overheard him and Arlette’s aunt arguing in the living room. He said he’d never wanted kids-his own or anyone else’s-and maybe if they were lucky, Arlette would screw up just like her mother had, and then they’d be rid of her.”
“Did you tell Arlette what you overheard?”
She shook her head. “It would’ve made her feel worse because she knew her uncle didn’t want her around.”
Rotten luck to overhear such a cruel remark in light of what happened to her friend. “Did Arlette ever tell you that her uncle physically hurt her? Or threatened to hurt her?”
“I don’t think so. He just said mean shit to her all the time. Especially after he’d been drinking.” Naomi’s eyes widened with fear. “You won’t tell him I said any of that?”
“No. Everything you tell us is confidential.” I glanced up from the scant notes I’d jotted in my notebook. “Who else did Arlette hang around with?”
“We were both kinda loners. People made fun of our interest in vampire books.” Naomi scowled. “She sometimes hung out with Mackenzie Red Shirt. But only when Mackenzie wanted something.”
“Like what?”
“Like a ride to one of the parties out at Dickie’s slough. Or if she wanted Arlette to do a report for her.”
“What would Arlette get in return?”
Naomi became interested in the frayed end of her scarf.
After a silent minute or two, Officer Ferguson prompted, “Naomi?”
She looked up at me. “Mackenzie kept promising to introduce Arlette to this older guy she’d been crushing on.”
“Did Mackenzie ever follow through?”
“Yeah.” Tears swam in her eyes. “That’s when everything changed. When Arlette changed. She started lying to her aunt about where she was going. She stopped caring about her schoolwork.”
Now, maybe this was making sense. “Who was the guy?”
“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me. She just called him J.”
Naomi must’ve sensed my skepticism because she blurted out, “I swear it’s the truth! Arlette said she found her Jacob but he wanted to keep their relationship secret. When I told her that was a bad thing, she accused me of being jealous. I should’ve made her tell me! I should’ve… done something, because now she’s dead!” Naomi set her head on the conference table and sobbed.
I wished Carsten was here. I stared at the bawling girl, unable to comfort her because petting and soothing weren’t my way. I waited, quietly tapping my pen on my notepad to the same cadence of my boot tapping on the floor. Fergie poured a glass of water and passed it to Naomi, offering the gentle, encouraging pat on the back I couldn’t.
The girl lifted her head and wiped the moisture from her face. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?” I asked.
“That Arlette was staked through the heart. With a wooden stake? Just like…”
A vampire.
Another chill zigzagged up my spine. Why hadn’t Triscell Elk Thunder mentioned Arlette’s obsession with the Twilight series and anything vampire-related?
She had to’ve known.
Did you know everything about Levi’s interests?
No. But I hadn’t lived with Levi, either.
“Yes, Naomi, I’m afraid it is true,” Fergie said gently.
“Oh God. That’s so sick-” Her voice caught on a sob, but somehow she didn’t break down.
“When was the last time you saw her or talked to her?”
She sniffled. “The day we had the fight.”
Poor girl. Talk about guilt. A fight with her friend, and then she winds up dead. I handed her a tissue. “How long was that before Arlette disappeared?”
“Three days.”
“Had Arlette ever mentioned wanting to run away?”
“No. She didn’t like it here, but she knew she’d have to graduate to get outta here for good.” More tears welled up. “We talked about leaving together. Until she started spending all of her time with J.”
Jealousy was a powerful emotion. Still, I had a hard time believing Naomi would murder Arlette because she’d ditched her for a guy. Even if the guy Arlette bragged about was her “Jacob.”
God. Teens really took the fictional world that seriously?
My freakin’ head was about to explode.
Officer Ferguson jumped in. “Did everyone know you and Arlette had a falling-out?”
Naomi shook her head. “And no one would’ve cared anyway.”
“Anything else you care to add?”
Another head shake.
“Okay. Thanks for your help. If we think of anything else, can we call you?” I glanced down at the paperwork and rattled off the numbers. “That’s your cell phone number?”
“Yeah.”
“I imagine it goes everywhere with you.”
“I guess.”
“Did Arlette always have her phone with her?”
“Not during school hours. She kept it in her locker because she got it taken away by the principal once and her uncle freaked out. Why?”
“Because Arlette’s phone was found in her locker. You think she just went someplace and forgot it?”
Naomi slid her arms into her coat sleeves. “Nope. That means she left school before lunch and planned to come back.”
• • •
Mackenzie Red Shirt, our next interviewee, didn’t show.
I returned to the empty conference room after a brief bathroom break, trying to sort through my notes. What would be the best way to track down Miss Red Shirt and convince her to tell us Arlette’s mystery guy’s name? I also wanted to talk to Triscell. I’d taken her vague, flustered state as a result of grief. So it surprised me to see a “No contact without permission from the tribal president” note on the file. That made zero sense.
I was lost in thought and didn’t notice that Turnbull had entered the conference room until he parked his butt on the table next to my papers.
He actually gave me a warm smile. “Great job with the friend.”
I leaned back in my seat. I hated how he invaded my personal space-and he was aware of it, so naturally he did it as often as possible. “Had you made the connection between the stake in the victim’s heart and vampires?”
“The thought had crossed my mind, but I dismissed it. I’m still not convinced there is any correlation. But I ain’t gonna write it off as coincidence.” Shay spun my notebook around to read my notes. Then his gaze hooked mine.
Damn man had the most compelling eyes. I could say that objectively, when he wasn’t annoying the piss out of me. He’d hit the lottery as far as good looks. Sporting the best of his Native American ancestry, he had chiseled cheekbones, smooth skin, and hair as black as tar worn long enough to brush the edges of his prominent jaw. His body appeared long and lean, but I’d trained with him at the gym and knew firsthand that well-honed muscles lurked beneath his casual work clothes. Add in his dazzling smile, an abundance of charm, and Shay Turnbull was a force to be reckoned with.
When he wanted to be.
So I wondered what he wanted now. “What?”
“Have you had lunch?”
“No. Why?”
“I’m following up on another case and wondered if you wanted me to bring you something back from Taco John’s?”