The Competition

27

“But that picture of Logan on his computer-”

Bailey nodded. “And the hate band posters on his wall-”

And he fit the profile: a loner who’d been bullied by jocks, a follower who’d been Logan’s acolyte-someone likely to follow his leader into hell. Who’d written that a perfect city is one without people. And who had that weird laugh. Neither of us spoke for several moments. I slid down in my chair and let my gaze wander. It landed on the jewelry kiosk to my right. The fake baubles were dazzling in the lighted glass case. Dazzled, that was us. “We fell for it. We fell for the stereotype.”

Bailey raised an eyebrow. “Really? Just like that you’re ready to dump Otis? Clichés are clichés because they’re true, Knight. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean he wasn’t a shooter.”

“But why would Logan kill his partner?”

“Shit. Who knows why these fools do anything? Maybe Otis was a weak link, and Logan wanted to cut the deadweight-”

“In which case maybe we only have one shooter on the loose.” Not that one wasn’t enough.

“Or…”

I sighed. “Or, Otis was involved but he wasn’t a shooter.” In which case we still had two shooters out there. I bent my straw into tiny, accordion squares. “I agree, we can’t rule Otis out as a possible suspect just because he’s dead. But that photo on his computer. The more I think about it, the more it bothers me.”

“The one of Logan with the gun,” Bailey said.

“Yeah. Why would Logan send something like that just before the shooting? If Otis’s parents had seen it, that could’ve screwed up their whole plan.”

“True. So what are you thinking? That Logan sent that photo on purpose, to incriminate Otis? Or a third mystery guy-maybe the second shooter-sent it?”

“The mystery guy, more likely,” I said. “And yeah, to frame Otis.”

“But that still leaves your question: why take the risk?”

“Because only Logan would’ve been tagged. He’d still be in the clear.”

“So you think our unknown guy was willing to go through with the shooting alone?”

“Probably not his first choice. And he didn’t have to go through with it. If the shit hit the fan with Logan’s photo, he could pull the plug and do it another day.” I let go of the straw. It uncoiled and lay semi-curled on the table. I reached for it again.

“Then you’re also saying this unknown guy deliberately imitated Otis’s laugh during the shooting?”

I started to fold the straw again. “Why not?”

“He would have to have access to Logan’s computer-”

“Logan’s got friends,” I said. “And laptops move around. He could’ve taken it anywhere-to work, to school.”

Bailey grabbed the straw out of my hands. “Give it a rest, would you?” She put the straw on her plate. “Okay, let’s assume that plays. Why pick Otis?”

“If our mystery guy is a friend of Logan’s, he probably knew Otis. So he knew Otis fit the profile. A fringy loser who got knocked around by football jocks. He figured we’d jump on him.” I grabbed the straw off her plate. “You know, like we did.”

“That’s pretty friggin’ smart for a kid.”

“Not really. Anyone can read about these school shooters. There’s stuff all over the place. And we’re pretty sure our shooters did study the others. Besides, who says these guys aren’t smart? Just because they’re fucked-up and homicidal-”

“Yeah, ‘I may be crazy but I ain’t stupid,’” Bailey said. “But I’m an Occam’s razor kind of guy. When in doubt, go simple. Logan sent that photo to Otis the night before the shooting to celebrate their big day. And he wasn’t worried about the risk because Otis told him his parents never check his computer.” Bailey glared at the straw, which I’d resumed torturing, then looked me in the eye. “And as we know, he was right. They didn’t.”

And they probably didn’t check because having his password made them feel secure. I couldn’t argue that one. “I’m just saying we can’t ignore the possibility that Otis was an innocent bystander.”

“Who just happened to be in the library at exactly the right time to be killed and set up to look like one of the shooters?”

“Might’ve just been a lucky break for them.” Awfully lucky, I had to admit. But stranger things have happened.

“Whatever.” Bailey sighed. “We’ve got to notify his parents.”

And we wouldn’t even be able to give them the comfort of knowing their son was in the clear. “You want me to set it up?”

“Yeah. And I’ll try to think of something better to say than ‘I’ve got bad news and…bad news.’”

I left a message for the Barneys asking if we could come by in the early evening. When I ended the call, I tried to focus on what little bright side we had. “We still have Logan. And he looks solid.” I mentally went through the to-do list we’d put together for the unis. “Did anyone report in on his bank account yet?”

“No, but I can goose them. And I’ll get unis to go talk to those other salesclerks at the shoe store.” Bailey pulled out her phone and punched a number.

“I want to go back to Logan’s buddies, Caleb and Evan-”

Bailey gestured to the phone. While she spoke, I remembered the other person I wanted to see.

Bailey ended the call. “We should get the info on Logan’s financial empire by the end of the day.”

“I want to get out to Logan’s brother too. The sooner, the better.”

“He’s in Oxnard. I vote we get the local police to help us set that up before we run out there.”

Oxnard was an hour and a half north of us, and if we hit traffic, it could easily be double that. We couldn’t afford to spend hours in travel only to find out the brother was in the wind. “Okay, then let’s hit up Evan and Caleb again.” I looked at my watch. It was after three. School would be out by now. “I’d like to get them somewhere quiet.”

“How about their cribs? We can tell the parents we need to talk to them privately.”

We went to Caleb’s house first. It looked similar to Logan’s. Two stories, but with a brick-and-white, wood-trimmed front. Caleb answered the door in his socks. He looked less than thrilled to see us. “Oh, hi.”

We said we had a few more questions for him, and he reluctantly stood aside, then gestured for us to follow him. Lucky for us, his parents weren’t home. He led us to the kitchen. “I’m just having a sandwich. My mom hates it when I eat in the living room. You, uh, want something?”

“No thanks, Caleb,” I said. His ham and Swiss on rye looked pretty tempting though. We sat at the breakfast table, and Caleb took a man-sized bite. His cheeks bulged as he chewed.

“Did you see Logan at all on the day of the shooting?” Bailey asked. “Maybe on the way to school? At a gas station?”

Caleb swallowed and shook his head. “The last time I saw him was when I told you. A couple of weeks before in the parking lot. When Otis was hanging around.”

He took another bite of his sandwich. I let him swallow before I jumped in. “Do you drive?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you drive to school that day?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Did you happen to notice Logan’s car in the parking lot?” I asked.

Caleb picked up his sandwich, stared at it for a long moment, then shook his head. “I can’t remember. It’s not something I would’ve been looking for, you know?”

I nodded. He took another bite. “Remind me where you were during the shooting,” I said.

Caleb put down his sandwich and stared at the table. “I was in one of the lower rows, close to the floor. By the time I turned to see what everyone was screaming about, they had started shooting. I dropped to the ground and hid under the seat.”

“Did you hear what the shooters were saying?” I asked.

“I thought I heard them yelling things when they were up at the top of the bleachers, but I couldn’t make it out. I was pretty far down and then I got under the seat. And everyone was screaming and…” He looked away.

I felt guilty about making him relive it, but I couldn’t risk missing anything. “Did you hear either of the shooters laugh?”

“No. I’ve already told you everything. Really, it was all just a blur. I’m sorry.”

We left Caleb to his sandwich. He didn’t seem as interested in it anymore.