Helpless

Chapter 43

The Shilo Wildcats won the Thursday night football game against Cumberland by a score of 37 to 17. Rainy Miles hadn’t come to watch football, though. She’d come to talk with Tanner Farnsworth.

After the game, she spotted Tanner in the parking lot, hanging out by a red Mustang.

Nice car, she thought.

Tanner was out of shoulder pads and into his street clothes. He was also surrounded by a group of a dozen or so other teenagers. As a collective, the group seemed to be competing with each other for top prize in the Most Uninterested Teen contest.

Dressed in dark jeans and a suede jacket, Tanner radiated the sort of magnetism that drew the girls’ glances and kept the boys hovering nearby. He was tall, well built, and handsome, coolly detached in a way that suggested he was the leader of this pack. Through her investigative work, Rainy had seen her fair share of boys like Tanner Farnsworth. One of them had passed around a naked picture of Melanie Smyth.

Rainy stepped out from the shadows and approached the group. Their expressions all said, “You’re not thinking of talking to us, lady.” But as she neared, that hostility dimmed as one by one they stopped paying attention to her. It was as if by tuning out this stranger, they had somehow become invisible to her. Of course they hadn’t. They just wanted to be.

“Are you Tanner Farnsworth?” Rainy asked. She tried to sound friendly, but years spent arresting people tainted most everything she said with a hint of menace. The other boys took a few cautious steps in retreat, leaving an island of space around her and Tanner. He was tall, and Rainy had to crane her neck to make eye contact.

“Who are you?” Tanner asked.

“Agent Loraine Miles. I’m with the FBI.”

Rainy flashed her badge and studied Tanner’s expression for any sign of a tell. Rapid blinking. Head turning. Eyes averting her gaze. A hand to the face, throat, or mouth, some reflexive gesture to scratch away the invisible itch of guilt. Tanner did none of those things. Even so, Rainy’s internal radar blinked out the word creep like a neon sign.

“Weren’t you at our school?” Tanner said.

Tanner produced a cocky smile that Rainy disliked intensely. It suggested that he recognized her as an adversary, and that awareness brought him a degree of pleasure.

“Yes, I was,” Rainy said. “I’d like to talk with you about Lindsey Wells.”

Tanner’s cocky armor began to crack. “What about her?” he asked.

Rainy had already sent a preservation request to Tanner’s cell phone provider. Any evidence against him would remain on the servers.

“Are you two dating?”

“We were,” Tanner said. “She dumped me. I guess she prefers older men.”

“When did she dump you?” Rainy asked.

“A couple days ago. Are you here to investigate why we broke up?” He smiled a wry, unpleasant grin. The boy’s arrogance was as repulsive to her as what she now believed he’d done with Lindsey’s pictures.

“Did Lindsey Wells send you any pictures of herself?” Rainy asked.

“What sort of pictures?”

“You know what sort of pictures, Tanner. Ones she’d want only her boyfriend to see.”

“No,” he said.

“Would you be willing to submit to a consent search?”

“What’s that?”

“Something that would let me check your phone. See what information and communication you’ve got stored there.”

“I don’t think I would.”

“No. I didn’t think you would, either. Did you encourage her to take pictures of herself and send them to you?”

“Nope.”

“Do you know that constitutes a crime in the federal system? You could go to jail. Or were you one of those boys who weren’t listening at my talk?”

“I was listening,” Tanner said.

Rainy could see that she’d punched another small hole through his defenses. She was within her legal rights to question Tanner, a minor, without his parents present. But she wondered how much more she could press him before he figured out he was under attack and asked for a parent or attorney to be present. In truth, she’d love for that to happen. It became harder to hide the truth once a suspect officially entered the system. Go ahead and lawyer up, Rainy thought as she decided to push ahead with the informal interview.

“So if you were at my talk and listening, you’d remember how much hard time you’ll do. Fifteen years. Maybe more. And that you’ll be registered as a sex offender.”

“What is it you want from me?” Tanner asked.

“The truth. Any idea why Lindsey thinks that you did something with those pictures?”

“You’re the cop.”

“FBI.”

“Whatever.”

“So, any ideas?”

“I told you, I don’t have a clue. She dumped me, remember? If she said anything to you about any pictures, it was probably just to get back at me. Don’t ask me for what. I’m not the one getting Tom-a-Hawked.”

Rainy grimaced. “I’m assuming that’s your crude euphemism for sex,” Rainy said.

“Euphe-what?”

“Never mind,” Rainy said with a dismissive wave.

Two people approached Rainy and Tanner from the right. One was an older man, tall and handsome, the way an ex-athlete might look years after the glory days. The other was a boy near to Tanner’s age. They looked too much alike for them not to be father and son.

“What’s going on?” asked the man.

“Hey, Mitchell, Mr. Boyd,” Tanner said. “This is an agent from the FBI. She’s asking me about Lindsey.”

The older Boyd’s unflinching expression would have befit a statue. The younger one’s appearance was much edgier than Tanner’s: short hair with gelled spikes, a silver cross earring in his right ear.

“What’s up with Lindsey?” Mitchell asked. The boy’s expression darkened the way threatening clouds dim a sunny day.

“This is a private matter between myself and Tanner. It doesn’t concern anybody else.”

“Well, did he tell you what you wanted to know?” The older Boyd placed a hand on Tanner’s shoulder. “Tanner’s like family to us. If he’s in any trouble, I’d like to know.”

“Tanner’s a big boy,” Rainy said. “He knows what trouble he’s in.”

Roland stayed quiet for a long second. The kids circled around them again. Anyone watching from a distance would have expected to hear shouts of “Fight! Fight!” coming from the circle’s perimeter.

Roland unexpectedly extended his hand. “Forgive my manners,” he said. “My name is Roland Boyd. This is my son Mitchell.”

Rainy shook Roland’s hand. His grip was strong; the handshake professional.

“Well, if there is anything we can do to help with your efforts, you just let us know.”

“I sure will,” Rainy answered.

Something about the conversation struck Rainy as peculiar. Tanner didn’t come across as someone with a great deal of respect for Coach Hawkins. He sure as heck didn’t sound like an underling talking about the boss who allegedly paid him good money for naked pictures of Lindsey Wells.