“Just how medieval?”
“Broke my left arm pretty good.”
“Seems like an overreaction.”
“Yeah, well, when a school social worker did a little unannounced pop-in on a Wednesday morning while he was cooking meth in the garage—my stepdad didn’t seem to think it was an overreaction.”
“And your mom?”
“Doesn’t matter. She got sick of dealing with me a long time ago. I’m now what you call emancipated. That means I’m legally responsible for myself.”
“That must have been hard.”
“Whatever. They don’t require a license for parents. Did Casey tell you about his family? They sent him to some brainwashing camp where a supposed counselor tried to rape him back into being a girl.”
“You say Casey’s a freak but I notice you refer to him as him, not her.” Ellie had heard enough about gender identity to correct Rogan’s initial use of feminine pronouns, but she had to admit, the preferred terminology did require conscious effort. “I know what you’re doing. You actually accept Casey at heart, but you want to make him sound troubled enough to do something like kill Julia.”
“And I know what you’re doing. I don’t need your friendship.”
“And I don’t need two selfish kids who would lie to churches for bus money taking advantage of these grieving parents. This isn’t a joke, Brandon. You may not have given a shit about a rich girl like Julia, but she’s dead. You may want us to believe that Casey killed her, but I could just as easily tell her parents up there that you and Vonda are making up this story to cover your own asses.”
“Cover our asses for what?”
“For killing their daughter.”
Beneath the tattoos and piercings, the color dropped from his face. “But—that—no, no way, lady. I knew we should’ve bailed. I knew the cops wouldn’t listen to us.”
“Tell me the truth and I’ll listen plenty.”
His moment of panic passed. The next time he spoke, the stammer was gone. “Point the finger at us all you want, but we’re not the ones who were messing around with Julia. Or have a key to this place.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Casey may not have given us a play-by-play of what he did to Julia, but we are telling you the truth. You’re right. He is my friend. And, yeah, me and Vonda are only here because of the money. But Casey said he killed Julia. And he—not us—could have gotten in here to do it. Julia gave him a key to this place when they hooked up. Why don’t you ask him about that?”
Ellie was starting to worry about the growing contradictions between Brandon’s statements and the impression Casey had created. First the hookup with Julia. Now a key. If Casey had access to the townhouse, he had access to Julia. And her computer. He could also be the one posting the threats on Adrienne’s blog.
“What did Casey think about Ramona’s family?”
Brandon chuckled. “You mean his future in-laws?”
“Casey loves Ramona that much, huh?”
“Totally. He’d fucking die for that girl, you know? But her parents? He thought they were spoiled pricks.”
“Why was that?”
“Because they are.”
“You know them?”
“The type. Sure.” He looked around his current, opulent surroundings as if the decor explained his point.
“Did he ever say anything specific about her parents?”
“Not really. Just that he’d gone over there once and could tell they were eyeballing him. You know, like something wasn’t right.”
She still didn’t believe Casey confessed a murder to these two kids, but parts of Brandon’s story had the ring of truth to them. She realized now that her compassion for Casey’s personal situation had caused her to give him too quick a pass. She should have done a more thorough interview while she’d had him at the park.
Brandon stared at his crossed feet. When he looked up, Ellie saw a surprising softness in his expression. “Like I said, Casey’s my friend.” Ellie forced herself to remember he was only sixteen years old and had lived a young life so horrible that his current existence—alone on the streets of New York City—was an improvement.
“So when do we get our money?”
And, just like that, the moment of sympathy passed.
Chapter Thirty
Ellie and Rogan found Katherine Whitmire in the den on the second floor. Like the sitting room downstairs, this space was filled with stuffy, hard-edged furniture and ornate rugs. It had neither a television nor a bed, making it useless as far as Ellie was concerned.
Katherine immediately rose from her chair as Ellie and Rogan approached. Down the hall, they spotted her husband, Bill, on his BlackBerry in the kitchen. It struck Ellie as a strange moment for the two of them to be apart. If the appearance in their home of two teenagers claiming to know the identity of their daughter’s killer was not enough to bring the pair together, Ellie wondered whether the two were ever in the same room.
They all convened in the kitchen. “Have you put out a warrant for this Casey Heinz girl?”
She did not have the time to explain to a record producer the process that was required for obtaining an arrest warrant.
“We’re going to check out Heinz right now,” Rogan said. She noticed that her partner omitted the fact that they’d already spoken to Casey the previous night. “I’d suggest that you hold off on giving those two scroungers down there any money for now.”
“But Bill told them—”
Rogan shook his head. “Trust me. You give those kids ten grand, and they’ll be in Seattle by tomorrow night. Slip them a couple hundred bucks and tell them it’ll take time to pull the rest together? They’re not going anywhere.”
Bill Whitmire was pacing back and forth in the aisle between his kitchen island and cabinets. “Can’t you arrest them to make certain we don’t lose them?”
Ellie shook her head. “They haven’t done anything illegal.”
“They waited until a reward was announced to tell anyone they knew about a murderer!”
“I’m afraid the law doesn’t require people to come forward with knowledge about illegal activity, Mr. Whitmire.”
“But that’s ridicu—”
“Otherwise, you’d be required to call the police every time someone lit a joint in your recording studio. You see?”
“It’s not the same—”
“I’m just explaining why we can’t take these two into custody.”
“Aren’t they runaways?”
“Vonda is of age, and Brandon claims to be legally emancipated, in which case he’s also considered an adult.”
“But what about, what’s it called? Material witnesses, or something?”
“That’s only if they’re uncooperative. Like my partner, I’m quite sure they’ll stay exactly where we need to find them unless you suddenly give them enough money to leave.” She was getting sick of fielding Bill Whitmire’s legal questions. This wasn’t a citizen training academy. “We’ve had some other leads in the case as well. We need to ask you about your daughter’s relationship with Adrienne Langston.”
Bill Whitmire’s expression was completely blank. It was his wife who spoke up. “You know who she is, Bill. Ramona’s stepmother. You mention how youthful and natural she is every time you see her.” Her voice became slightly less bitter when she returned her attention to Ellie. “Julia was very fond of Adrienne. Always saying what a wonderful mother she was. The underlying message wasn’t lost on me,” she added sadly.
Now that Bill understood the question, he was not about to wait for answers. “This is ridiculous. You should be looking for Casey Heinz.”