The knock came before Ethan could take a sip from the coffee mug Sadie had set on the table in front of him. It seemed the rest of his life would be defined by knocks at his door.
The sound froze all three of them around the breakfast table. Sadie stood with coffee pot in hand. Her grip on the pot handle loosened so that the pot itself tipped forward, threatening to spill. Ethan turned to Graham sitting at the table to his right. Graham swallowed his mouthful of Cheerios and gently set his spoon back into the bowl.
Inevitably, a second knock followed the first.
Ethan stood slowly and went to the door.
Detective Randy Anderson greeted him with a somber nod.
“There's been a development in the case.”
Ethan's heart pumped harder. “This have to do with Rain's boyfriend?”
Randy chewed his lower lip, an uncharacteristic hesitation.
“What's going on?” Ethan asked.
“I need to talk with your son.”
“With Graham? Why?”
“If you don't mind, I'd—”
“Why?” Ethan insisted.
“May I come in?”
“No.”
“Mr. Trent, this isn't how you want to do this.”
“If you want to talk to my son, you have to tell me what this is about. Otherwise, you can call my lawyer.”
Randy hung his head, thinking it over. “How about you and Graham come over to see me at the station?”
“What the hell do you want with my son?”
“Some new evidence has come into play. A witness.”
“A witness to what?”
“Someone who can place Graham with Alison shortly before she was found murdered.”
Ethan's skin turned cold.
“It's best you cooperate, Mr. Trent. Best for everyone.”
They sat in the same room where Randy and Staver had questioned Ethan the night before. Graham sat beside Ethan at the table, taking an occasional sip from the can of Mountain Dew Randy had offered him when they first arrived. Between sips, Graham kept rubbing his palms over his thighs as if trying to work some warmth into them. Ethan felt the same chill in the air he had during his own interrogation.
They must purposely keep the room cold to freeze the truth out of you.
Only what was the truth?
Ethan tried to look Graham in the eyes, but Graham had refused to look much higher than waist level since leaving the house.
He wanted to ask Graham flat out if this supposed witness carried any weight, but the two-way mirror in the room stared at them like an accusing eye. Whatever they discussed here, the police would be privy to. And if there was any truth to what this witness said . . .
Ethan squeezed his eyes shut. He felt lightheaded and realized he held his breath. He focused on doing nothing but breathing for a moment. Just when he began to relax, the door opened and Randy and Staver entered.
“I already told you,” Ethan said, “we aren't saying anything until my lawyer gets here.”
Staver sat down across from them and folded his hands, tucking them under his chin and resting his elbows on the table. “Do we really need to bring a lawyer into all this? Just to answer some simple questions?”
Ethan crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Do you think this is my first run in with police?”
Randy, standing back by the mirror, cocked and eyebrow. “You don't have a record.”
“Not one you can access.”
Staver smirked. “Juvenile record, huh?”
“We'll wait for my lawyer.”
“Fine.” Staver turned his gaze to Graham. “You okay, son?”
Graham seemed to sink deeper into himself.
“Don't say a word,” Ethan cautioned.
Staver sighed, shook his head. “I knew we were going to have trouble with you from the start.”
“Quit trying to goad me.”
Another smirk. “Doesn't seem like I have to try very hard.”
“You're walking a fine line here, pal. Unless you want a lawsuit on your hands, I suggest you shut your mouth until I have legal counsel present.”
Staver cocked his head as if speaking over his shoulder to Randy. “Someone's been watching Law and Order.”
Ethan snorted, choosing to study his fingernails rather than respond. Staver obviously didn't know who he was dealing with. Ethan hadn't always been a high school Math teacher.
Randy moved from his post by the mirror to the door and put his hand on the knob. “I'm going to get him.”
Staver nodded.
Randy slipped out of the room.
Ethan glared at Staver. “You son of a bitch. My lawyer's here already, isn't he?”
Staver shrugged. “I thought we could cut through the bullshit, make this easy on your poor kid—”
Ethan slapped a hand on the table. “That's the bullshit. Don't pretend you're on our side.”
“I thought we both wanted to find your daughter's killer.” He looked to Graham. “If Graham was with his sister the night she died, he might be able to tell us something that could help.”
Still looking toward the floor, Graham said, “I'm sitting right here.”
“Of course you are,” Staver said. “I didn't mean to talk about you like you weren't.”
“And I don't know anything.”
Ethan put a hand on Graham's leg. “Quiet.”
Thankfully, the door opened and Randy entered with James T. Sabaugh, Jr. close behind.
Jimmy Sabaugh had just started at his father's law firm when Ethan, a mere thirteen years old, first required his services. It wasn't the only time Jimmy would stand up for Ethan against the law, but Ethan hadn't seen him in person for over ten years now. A few phone conversations to keep in touch around holidays had been the extent of their intervening contact, and while Ethan had always intended to invite Jimmy over for dinner or out for a drink, he never imagined he would need to hire him professionally ever again.
Their eyes met and they each exchanged a quick nod.
Jimmy swung his briefcase onto the table right in front of Staver as if the cop wasn't even sitting there. “'Good to see you again' isn't quite the right phrase at the moment, but the sentiment remains.”
“Hey, Jimmy.”
“These guys harassing you in the name of the law?”
“Of course.”
Staver rolled his eyes.
Randy's gaze kept switching from Jimmy to the back of Staver's head as if waiting for some cue from either man on what to do next.
“Mind if I have a moment with my client, gents?”
Staver braced both hands on the table and lifted himself from his chair as if it took all the energy in the world to get him moving. He hissed through his nose, lip curled.
“I know, I know,” Jimmy said. “Civil rights are such a pain in the ass.”
“Don't take too long,” Staver said and looked Ethan in the eyes. “Unless you want your daughter's killer to get away.”
Jimmy stepped into Staver's personal space, almost shoving the detective aside with his protruding belly and the large gold buckle on his belt. “You couldn't have possibly forgotten I was in the room, detective.”
Staver scowled, but backed away from the table, giving Jimmy room to take the vacated chair.
“And make sure to cut the audio,” Jimmy said as he sat. “I know how you kids sometimes forget that these conversations are privileged.”
Staver scratched the side of his nose with his middle finger.
Jimmy flipped open his briefcase and retrieved a legal pad and fountain pen as if the detectives had already left the room. He did not glance over his shoulder to make sure they were on their way out, didn't make a sound as he lined up his legal pad with the edge of the table, closed his briefcase, and slid it aside. Jimmy had dismissed them, and he showed no sign that he doubted their obedience.
Randy left without a glance or complaint, but Staver hesitated in the doorway, one last act of defiance before he stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
Jimmy sucked his teeth. “Like I haven't done this a billion times before. Why do cops think everyone else is an amateur?”
“Most people are,” Graham said.
Ethan started at the sound of Graham's unexpected words.
Jimmy smiled, showing a small diamond inlaid in his right front tooth. “Well said.”
Graham looked pleadingly at Ethan. Ethan got the sense his son wanted to tell him something, but after a moment Graham returned his gaze to the floor and wiped his hands on his pants.
Jimmy must have noticed the exchange. He slid his fountain pen across the table and offered him the legal pad. “It's unlikely the police will enjoy a seat at our conversation. But if there is something important you would like to share that you would rather we keep to ourselves, you can write it down.”
Graham continued to rub at his thighs while staring at the pen. Then he stopped, clasped his hands in his lap, and shook his head.
“You're sure?” Ethan asked.
Graham nodded.
“It's all right,” Jimmy said. “Our objective here is to get through some questioning without giving police the wrong idea. This isn't a courtroom, no one is on trial, no one has even been arrested. But it's wise to show caution as your father has because sometimes our champions of the law forget to look at the broader picture.”
Ethan eyed the two-way mirror. He recalled his first impression of Randy when he showed up at his door, the kind cast to his face, the gentle lilt of his words. He almost had Ethan fooled, almost made him forget what he'd learned about cops a long time ago. To them, everyone was guilty. Even if they were proven innocent.
The first step in reminding himself of that was to stop thinking of him as Randy, but the damn cop had put the name in Ethan's head when he had introduced himself and now Ethan couldn't think of him any other way.
“You with us, Ethan?”
Ethan blinked and looked at Jimmy. “Sorry. Yeah, I'm here.”
“First things first. I am so sorry to hear about Alison. You should have called me right away.”
“I'm still trying to get my head around it.”
Jimmy fondled a large golden cross on a chain around his neck. “It's a mad world.”
“I want to know who did this to her.” Ethan felt his throat threatening to close and took a minute before continuing. “These assholes keep wasting time harassing us instead.”
Jimmy nodded. “I know your history, so I understand your perspective, but you have to listen. If what they are saying is true,” he turned to Graham, “if you were with your sister the night she was killed, you might be able to help the investigation.”
Graham wiped his palms on his jeans.
Ethan snatched up the pen and scribbled a note on the legal pad, a question for Jimmy: If he was with her, won't they suspect him?
Graham peeked at the pad as Ethan spun it around to show Jimmy. His eyes widened.
Jimmy read the question without a single change to his expression. “Yes.”
Graham's eyes widened and his cheeks puffed out a little as if he might throw up.
Ethan said, “This is crap. If we're not under arrest, I'm not going to sit here and let them grill my son like some criminal.”
“That's you prerogative.”
“Can you get us out of here?”
“Consider it done.” Jimmy packed his legal pad and pen back into his briefcase. “Just realize that this isn't over. They can't force you to answer any questions now, but depending on what kind of witness they actually have, Detectives Staver and Anderson will return to your doorstep. I can guarantee it.”