They took the Mustang, leaving the park entirely, and drove up around the hill to get to the next parking lot. When they arrived, Mason saw it was more of a gravelly wasteland than a parking lot.
“Just up here, man.” The kid was pointing to a tree, which had five parking spots tucked away behind it. The dividing lines were marked by shoddy rows of rocks.
“Get out,” Mason said, stepping onto the dusty path. He closed the door, stalked around the car, and dragged the kid again, this time by his arm. “Show me.”
“This is it,” the kid cried. “This is it. Just let me go.”
Mason obliged, releasing his arm, but he wasn’t done with him just yet. “Did you know this kid? The one who was murdered?” He glanced around at the site, wondering where he’d begin his search.
“Never heard of him.”
“Interesting. I didn’t tell you his name.”
The boy flushed a hot red and rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean—”
“Cut the crap. Tell me about him, and then you can leave.”
“You swear?”
“Unless you killed him yourself, yeah,” Mason said, only half-joking.
“Fine. All right. His name was Johnny Walker. Bit of a nerd, if y’ask me. Always had a lot to prove.” He put a hand on his shoulder, rotating and stretching the joint. “If he came up here with a woman, he probably had to pay for it, ya know? Nobody liked him.”
“You think he was specifically targeted?”
“I don’t… Maybe. Nobody hated him. He was just an ugly kid.”
Mason looked at him, wondering exactly who he was calling ugly. This Johnny Walker boy may not have been the most handsome, but at least he didn’t have a gaping hole in his ear and buck teeth. “All right. That checks out. Now get lost.”
“Whoa, whoa. You’re not gonna drive me back?”
“You can go, now,” Mason repeated, staring daggers at him.
The kid must have seen the frustration in his eyes, as he turned and began the long hike back without another word.
Alone now, Mason studied the site. Tire tracks were still evident, and they could have been fresh. It proved nothing, but it was a place to start.
The further he considered this case, the less sense it made. Who’d want to murder an innocent kid? Why bring him all the way out here? What happened to the boy’s car?
Looking around, Mason saw nothing of note nearby except a couple of bushes, though he wasn’t prepared to go rooting through them just yet. At least, not until he saw something glistening in the sunlight. He reached an arm through the thorns and pulled out the shiny object. The zipper of a Star Wars wallet.
Please be Johnny’s. Mason fingered through it, looking at the ID cards. His breath caught as he read the name on the driver’s license: Jonathon Walker.
“Thank God,” he muttered. Next he pulled out a stash of business cards, flipping them away as he read each one. He found nothing of interest until he reached the last one. It was pink, distinctive, and had a drawn silhouette of a woman lying by a fireplace.
PRICELESS BEAUTIES
THE ONLY PLACE FOR MASSAGES AND MORE!
It had an address, and Mason intended to use it. He stashed the card in his coat pocket and took the money from the wallet. It was only fifty bucks, but that wasn’t the point. If anyone else stumbled upon it, he wanted it to look like a simple theft. The last thing he needed was the police asking why he was looking into this case.
After wiping away the prints, Mason tossed the wallet back into the bush and went back to his car. At least now he had somewhere to check out.