He forced his crusty eyelids to separate. Sunshine seared his eyeballs in a blurry haze of light. His body rocked, and agony radiated from his arm. His empty belly roiled. He closed his eyes, swallowed, and waited for the sick feeling to pass. When he no longer felt as if he were going to puke, he tried again.
He opened his eyes and turned his head from side to side. He was lying in the bottom of a canoe. The overcast sky made it difficult to estimate the time. A few inches of water had accumulated in the aluminum bottom. His jeans and sneakers were soaked. Since he’d tied his T-shirt around his arm to stop the bleeding, he was shirtless.
His flight the night before rushed back to him. Images and sensations flooded him as if he were right there, experiencing the night all over again. He forced the slideshow to cut off.
Paul was dead.
His eyes had been empty, staring at the ceiling. No life left inside.
Evan remembered the very last words he’d said to Paul. I wish you’d never married my mother. Those were words he could never take back, as much as he wanted to—mostly because they weren’t true. He was ashamed that they’d come out of his mouth. When he spent time with Kirk, he turned into his father, as if douchebaggery were contagious.
His stomach turned again, nausea compounding his misery. Tears pressed against the backs of his eyes. He fought them back. He couldn’t afford to lose it, not if he were going to survive.
Not that he was even sure he wanted to live. Did he deserve to?
He shoved the memory away. Pain, throbbing and hot, brought his attention back to the present. He’d been freezing all night, but the morning was heating up fast—and so was he.
He was dehydrated, and he needed to do something more with his wound than tie a T-shirt around his arm. The canoe shook, startling him.
He lifted his head and looked over the edge. The canoe was caught on something in the center of a river or creek, maybe the Deer River. Brown water bubbled white, eddying around rocks. Where was he? The storm had been wild. He’d been swept out of the lake, but he had no idea where the water had carried him. Remembering the torrential rain, thunder, and wicked streaks of lightning, he was surprised he hadn’t drowned.
Something buzzed near his ear, and Evan startled. A dragonfly cruised past his head. Its long, slim body hovered over the water next to the canoe. Bulbous eyes seemed to stare at Evan for a minute before it zoomed away. He’d better get moving too.
He sat up. The shoreline was thickly wooded, and the river was clearly swollen from the heavy rain. It ran all the way to the top of the bank. Water rushed past his canoe at a speed he’d never seen in the area before. He could hear it roaring downriver. If this was the Deer River, where he and Paul had camped, it looked nothing like the waterway had just a few weeks ago.
His canoe sat amid a pile of broken branches, maybe even a small tree, that had been swept down the river and gotten jammed up at a bend. He reached for the broken paddle lying in the water at the bottom of the canoe. He poked at the branches. The canoe rocked, but the floating debris held him fast.
Evan used the paddle to shift the lighter bits of debris, not an easy task with only one good arm. He moved a fat branch and revealed the wet sheen of a large rock beneath the hull. Pushing with the paddle, he moved the canoe. The metal bottom scraped as it slid off the rock.
The boat rocked and bobbed a few times, then floated away from the logjam.
The current picked up. Evan used the paddle as a rudder to steer toward the shoreline. The glaring sun amplified his thirst, and he desperately wanted to find some clean water.
But the river had other plans. The canoe dipped and shot back into the center. The boat rounded the bend. Evan’s mouth went even drier at the sight of white water and large boulders ahead. Sliding through an eddy, the canoe wobbled and nearly tipped. Evan grabbed for the sides and tried to use his weight to balance the canoe. But this wasn’t a kayak. The canoe was made for calm water, not rapids.
He reached out with the paddle to catch the branch of an overhanging tree. The paddle caught, but the pull of the current ripped it right out of Evan’s hands. With no way to steer, he held on as the canoe slid down a short waterfall and went nose first into a deeper pool. The boat hit the water and rolled, pitching Evan over the edge.
The water closed over his head, shockingly cold after the warmth of the sun. He tumbled, out of control, striking rocks and debris. He broke the surface and spit out a mouthful of mud. Trying to suck in some air, he coughed and sputtered as he was swept along.
The water sucked him down, then tumbled him into a rock. His injured shoulder took the brunt of the impact. Pain blasted through his arm. His lungs burned as he fought for a breath when his head broke the surface. The water sucked him down again, rolling him over and over until he didn’t know which way was up.
He floated, suspended in the murky cold, considering what it would be like to simply let the river take him. Would all the pain go away?
Disoriented, Evan opened his eyes and looked for the light that would lead him to the surface.
But all he saw was darkness.
Chapter Eleven
Morgan sat in the passenger seat of the Jeep, her thoughts churning. Normally, the sheriff’s request to question Tina at the station would not set off Morgan’s alarms. But the sheriff had not been up front with them. She had sensed hostility radiating from him, like the hot wind that came before a vicious thunderstorm.
Lance drove beside her, tense. He knew something was up too. Tina sat in the back seat, shredding another cuticle. How did a parent cope with not knowing whether their child was alive or dead? Morgan couldn’t even think about being in that situation without risking a panic attack.
They parked and went inside. The sheriff met them in the hallway and escorted them into one of the nicer conference rooms. It contained a wooden table and upholstered office-type chairs. He gestured toward a small table in the corner where a pod-style coffee maker stood. “Help yourself to coffee. I’ll be right back.”
Tina sat at the table, facing the door. Lance declined coffee. Morgan went to the machine and brewed two cups. She set one on the table in front of Tina.
Without drinking, Tina cradled the Styrofoam cup in both hands. Her demeanor had changed after the scene at the morgue. She seemed less desperate and more determined. The initial shock of Paul’s death and Evan’s disappearance had settled. She looked like a woman getting her act together to take action.
Morgan sat next to Tina. Lance took the chair opposite her.
The sheriff entered the room, a manila file tucked under his arm.
Tina’s swollen eyes fixed on the file. “Have you found my son?”
“Not yet.” The sheriff settled in a chair at the head of the table. “I have dozens of law enforcement officers in the field searching for him. A K-9 unit is working the woods and shoreline all around Deer Lake. If Evan is anywhere in the vicinity, the dog will pick up his scent. A good dog is worth a hundred men when tracking a person. We have the ground search covered. The most useful thing you can do is give us more information.” The sheriff’s mouth tightened. He opened his file. “We also talked to all of Evan’s friends on the list you gave us. They all denied seeing him tonight or knowing where he is.”
Which meant nothing, Morgan thought. Sixteen-year-olds were good at keeping secrets from adults.
The sheriff’s chair squeaked as he leaned back. “At this time, we do believe Evan’s disappearance and Paul’s murder are linked.”
Linked was an interesting word choice. Lance tilted his head, one eyebrow shooting up in a no shit expression. Morgan touched his foot with hers and gave him a cool it frown. On an ordinary case, his temper could run short. His close relationship with Evan would slice his tolerance for bullshit in half.
“Did forensics find anything useful at the scene?” Lance rested his forearms on the table, his posture deceptively relaxed. His tension was all in his eyes.
“A few things, yes.” T
he sheriff leaned back and folded his arms across his slight paunch. “The blood on the fence, the back door, and Evan’s phone is type B negative.”
Tina stiffened. “Evan and I are both B negative.”
“Paul was O positive.” The sheriff nodded. “I’ve asked that the DNA tests be expedited, but I can’t say when the lab will get to them. However, only about one point five percent of the population has B negative blood. I’d say the chances are good that the samples belong to Evan.”
“So he’s definitely hurt.” Tina wiped a hand under her eye.
“Yes, ma’am.” The sheriff reached behind him and took a box of tissues from a credenza. He set it on the table in front of her.
“Thank you.” She sniffed and plucked a tissue from the box.
“The front and rear doors of the house were unlocked. The garage door was secure. All of the windows were locked and intact. Does anyone else have a key to your house?”
Tina shook her head. “No, and Paul didn’t believe in those electronic keypad or wireless locks either. He didn’t trust electronics and said anything accessible by Wi-Fi could be hacked.”
“It’s not that hard to pick a lock,” Lance said. “What about fingerprints?”
The sheriff didn’t respond. “So far, all of the fingerprints that we’ve identified in the house have belonged to family members—and you.” The sheriff nodded at Lance. “Unknown latent prints were submitted to AFIS but no matches so far.”
This was not unusual. AFIS held the known fingerprints of criminals and unknown latent prints found at crime scenes. Unidentified fingerprints taken from the Knox residence would be kept on file for comparison in the event a suspect was later arrested.
“Now I have a few questions for Mrs. Knox.” The sheriff leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his focus narrowing on Tina’s face. “Two months ago, deputies were called to your house because Evan and Paul were fighting.”
Morgan didn’t react, but why hadn’t Tina told her about this?
“Arguing,” Tina corrected. She shifted her torso, settling back into the chair, distancing herself from the sheriff—or the question.
“All right. Arguing. Important distinction,” the sheriff acknowledged with a nod. “Can you tell me what they argued about?”
Tina sighed and scrubbed both hands down her face. “Kirk had just won his visitation petition, and Evan had had dinner with him the night before. He told us he wasn’t going back.”
The sheriff’s eyes narrowed. “Why is that, Mrs. Knox?”
“Because his father is an asshole.” The skin around Tina’s lips wrinkled as her mouth pursed. “Paul said he had to or there would be legal repercussions. Kirk was claiming parental alienation. Kirk said that, while he was in prison, I had turned Evan against him, as if that was even necessary. That was when Evan started yelling. But he was angry in general at the situation. His temper wasn’t really directed at Paul. Paul just happened to be the one standing in front of him.”
The sheriff lifted a sheet of paper from the table. “The police report says Evan took a swing at Paul.”
“He didn’t hit him, and Paul wasn’t mad.” Tina exhaled audibly through her nose. “He knew how much Evan was hurting. I don’t know how to describe how upset Evan was that day.”
“Their argument was loud enough that your neighbor Mr. Palmer called the police,” the sheriff pointed out.
“The windows were open.” Tina’s tone was more hostile than Morgan expected from her.
Lance’s head swiveled around. He and Morgan shared a concerned glance.
Morgan stepped in. “Where are you going with these questions, Sheriff?”
“Just trying to get all the facts that might help us find Evan.” The sheriff glanced at Morgan with irritation.
Morgan bit back a bullshit. She had established a shaky working relationship with Sheriff Colgate since he’d taken over the department. On one hand, she did not want to jeopardize his cooperation. The previous sheriff had made every aspect of her job as difficult as possible. On the other hand, she did not like the direction he’d taken with this line of questioning.
He was treating Tina more like a suspect than a victim.
“How have visitations gone with Evan’s father since then?” The sheriff set the paper down and steepled his fingers.
“More often than not, Kirk cancels, which is fine with all of us, but this week he actually showed up.” She paused for a breath. “Sunday night, I picked Evan up at the restaurant, and he refused to speak all the way home. He went straight to his room. He was still mad when he came home from school Monday. When Paul asked him to mow the lawn, he refused and started yelling. Paul and I could both see that he was hurting from whatever Kirk had said to him. Usually, he doesn’t mind helping out. He knows Paul has—had—a bad back.” She caught herself with a quiver to her breath. “But Evan went to his room and slammed his door.”
“Was Paul angry?”
“No. Paul said, ‘He had a rough night. Give him some space.’ Because that’s the kind of man he was.” Tina’s gaze dropped to the tissue in her hand. “I went to work. I thought seeing Jake that night would cheer up Evan.”
“Evan had a record before you married Paul.” The sheriff had clearly also worked late gathering background information last night.
“He had a hard time when his father went to prison. Although frankly, that was the best thing that could have happened to us.” Tina frowned. “Have you questioned Kirk? He told Evan that Paul was the reason we couldn’t be a family.”
“Was he?” the sheriff asked.
“No.” Tina shook her head. “I would never take Kirk back. He’s a thoroughly nasty man. However, he can put on a charming front for a short period of time when he needs to.”
“In what way was he nasty?” the sheriff asked.
“He insulted me every day, telling me I was ugly and stupid. He threw temper tantrums and broke things. He screamed and yelled, always stopped just short of physical abuse. I think he knew that’s where I would draw the line. Plus, he was allergic to work. He was always scheming to avoid getting a real job. It was ironic that he called Paul a gold digger, as if Paul and I were rolling in money.”
“Was money tight?” the sheriff asked.
“Not tight, but we lived on a budget.” Tina frowned. “We have Paul’s pension and my income. He considered getting a job, but he has a lot of lower back pain from wearing a duty belt all those years. Plus, he really wanted to be at home so he could spend time with Evan.”
The extra twenty pounds of awkward equipment on a duty belt could do a number on a cop’s back over the course of a career, especially if he spent many hours sitting in a patrol car.
“Why did you stay with Kirk?” the sheriff asked.
Tina lifted one shoulder. “I thought that’s the way all men were. But the first couple of weeks after he went to prison were the most peaceful of my life, and I decided Evan and I were much better off alone.”
The sheriff tapped his pointer finger on his file. “But you married Paul not long after that.”
A tear fell from Tina’s face to the table. “As you know, Paul arrested Kirk. But we didn’t see each other again until months later. Paul came into the urgent care for a few stitches.” She wiped her eyes. “A few weeks later, he asked me to dinner. He was so different from Kirk. Paul wanted to take care of me and Evan.” She took a fresh tissue from the box. “Could it have been Kirk? He hated Paul enough.”
The sheriff opened the manila file in front of him and flipped through several papers. “His group home has an eight p.m. curfew unless residents are at work. He swiped his card to check in at seven thirty.”
Lance craned his head, clearly trying to see the sheriff’s papers. “Is there any type of additional monitoring?”
The sheriff rested his arm across the page. “Residents aren’t under house arrest. The curfew, along with a list of other conditions, is set by the home. But the supervisor on duty Mon
day night confirmed that Kirk came in at seven thirty.”
“Did anyone see him at the home after seven thirty?” Morgan asked.
The sheriff ignored her question, turning back to Tina, which Morgan assumed meant no.
“Tell me more about the relationship between Paul and Evan. Was it rocky from the beginning?” the sheriff asked.
“No. Actually, Paul and Evan didn’t argue often. Most of the time they got along well. Paul took him shooting a few times. He wanted to be a good stepfather. Evan needed a good example in his life. They even went camping last month, and Paul talked about finding a couple of used kayaks.”
“Where did they go camping?” the sheriff asked.
“The woods behind the house,” Tina said. “They left the house on foot with two backpacks.”
The sheriff flipped over his page of notes. “And when was the last time you spoke with Evan?”
“Before I went to work on Monday. Why are you asking me this again?” Suspicion narrowed Tina’s eyes.
“We ask the same questions over and over again, Mrs. Knox. It’s routine. Sometimes witnesses remember more details after the initial shock has worn off.”
Morgan thought it much more likely that the sheriff was trying to catch Tina in a lie.
“Is Tina or Evan a suspect, Sheriff?” Morgan cut to the chase. Working relationship or not, she was tired of the bullshit. The boy had been missing for over nineteen hours.
“Everyone involved with Paul is a suspect until they are cleared.” But the sheriff’s eyes belied his words.
Tina’s head snapped up. Anger and surprise flushed her face. “That’s ridiculous. Evan is just a boy. He would never hurt Paul. My son was probably shot by whoever killed my husband.” Her voice rose, all traces of shakiness gone. “And you are wasting time and resources thinking Evan did it.”
“As I said before, everyone is a suspect.” The sheriff kept his voice calm. “We can’t know Evan’s side of the story until we find him and talk to him.” The sheriff leaned forward. “Why is he hiding from us? Why didn’t he try to get help?”
Secrets Never Die Page 9
