The Competition

29

We were already in the neighborhood, so it took just five minutes to get there-which meant I had no time to think about what I was going to say.

Sonny and Tom Barney sat together on the couch, their hands intertwined. The fear in their faces was a painful sight. Even worse was the small flicker of hope that still burned beneath it. I looked from one to the other, then forced out the words. “Otis’s body has just been identified as one of the two boys found in the library. I’m so sorry.”

Sonny jerked away from her husband and began to scream. “No! No-no-no-no-no!” Then she dissolved into tears. Tom wrapped his arms around her, buried his face in her hair, and began to sob.

I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes. I willed them back and tried to swallow the lump in my throat so I could offer words of comfort, but the words wouldn’t come.

Finally, Sonny lifted her head. She spoke with a tear-choked voice. “But then Otis couldn’t have been involved, could he? We told you! We told you!” She lapsed into sobs again, as she wrapped her arms around her torso and rocked back and forth.

Tom, picking up on our silence, looked from me to Bailey. “You can’t still believe…”

I took a deep breath. I’d almost dreaded this more than the death notification. “We don’t know. It’s still possible he was involved. But I promise you, Mr. Barney, if we can clear him, we will.”

Tom clenched his jaw. I watched his face as anger battled with grief. Grief lost. His voice was harsh and low. “It was crazy to call Otis a suspect in the first place, but now? It’s not just wrong, it’s downright cruel. I’m calling the DA! And the chief! You’re incompetent…you-you monsters!” He stood up and pointed to the door. “Now get out! Get the hell out of my house!”

When we reached Bailey’s car, I saw that her face looked drawn. I was sure mine looked no better, but I offered anyway, “Hey, how about you let me drive for a change?” If she said yes, it’d be a first.

“I feel like shit, but I don’t have a death wish, Knight.”

So she wasn’t completely wrecked. But I felt pretty lousy too. I knew there was only one thing that would make us feel better. “What’s the story with Luke Jarvis? Is he in pocket?”

“Yep. He’s at work. Gets off at six.”

“If we launch from here we can make it to Oxnard in an hour.”

“Let’s hit it.”

Work: the great healer. Well, the great distraction.