Marcia Clark - The Competition

“Yes. So?”

“So, there’s no way! He couldn’t have done the shooting at that theater.”

“Why not?”

“Because he was gone! He ran away; it was on the news!” Tears sprang to her eyes.

I didn’t bother to argue. “Then you haven’t heard from him since he gave you the last letter?”

“No.”

“Please read these letters, Amanda. It’s important that you know the truth.”

Amanda took the letters and sat down on the ottoman. Her mother leaned in and read with her. I watched as the horror spread across their faces.

Everything we’d believed about Evan was a lie. The distraught, conflicted friend, the frightened witness-all of it was an act.

Harrellson had said Evan was present in homeroom the day of the shooting. But now that I thought about it, he could easily have slipped away when the class headed for the gym. The gym. Didn’t Harrellson say he thought he’d seen a witness statement putting Evan in the gym at the time of the shooting? But I couldn’t remember him ever saying he’d confirmed it. I’d bet there was no such statement.

Then I remembered how Evan had talked about Otis during our first interview. What he said, the way he’d said it. Just enough spin to build suspicion, but not so much that it seemed pointed or vindictive. And Evan and Otis were close enough in size. Otis, the loner loser-and the perfect patsy. I thought about the timing of the second letter. If Evan got the second letter to Amanda on Thursday, it could easily have gotten to me the day of the Cinemark shooting. The timing worked.

As for the logic…that did too. There was no doubt that the same shooter who’d done the Fairmont High attack had done the Cinemark shooting. And we now suspected there was only one shooter at the Cinemark. Evan was never “on the run.” He was just gearing up for his next massacre.

In fact, now that I thought about it, all his tweets about “police harassment” were nothing more than window dressing, meant to set us up to believe he was scared so we wouldn’t get suspicious when he took off.

“Oh, God!” Amanda dropped the letters, covered her mouth, and ran out of the room. From down the hall, we heard the sounds of violent retching. Janice picked up the pages and stared at them, pale and speechless.

A few minutes later, Amanda stumbled back into the room clutching a wad of Kleenex, her face clammy. She squeezed into the wing chair with her mother and put her head on Janice’s shoulder. Janice wrapped her arms around Amanda and stroked her hair.

Did it occur to me that this might be an act? Of course. After Evan’s successful feint I was ready to second-guess gravity. But this time I was prepared. “Amanda, I showed you those letters because I need you to understand how important it is that you be completely honest with us. We have every reason to believe he’s going to commit another mass murder. We don’t know where or when, but we know it’s coming. And soon. Whatever information you have, anything you know about him, it’s critical that you share it with us.”

“But I don’t have any information! I don’t know what he’s going to do. He never told me anything!”

He probably didn’t tell her what he intended to do. That much I believed. But she had to know something. She’d mailed those letters and apparently never thought to question it. Why? I knew there was more to that than just blind trust.

I wanted to think about it before I pushed the issue any further. For the moment, I turned to Janice. “Did you meet Evan?”

“No, but Hank did.”

“Your husband?” Janice nodded. “How did that come about?”

Amanda looked up and darted a glance at her mother out of the corner of her eye. “My dad took us to a gun show,” Amanda said. “He hunts. I don’t. But I like to go to the range and do target practice.”

I smiled at Amanda. “Me too. When was it that you all went to the gun show?”

Amanda fidgeted with a spot on her jeans. “I don’t know. A while ago.”

She seemed uncomfortable. I had a feeling it had to do with her mother being there. “Janice, do you think I can impose on you for a glass of water? All this clean air is starting to get to me.”

Janice patted Amanda’s arm. “Of course. Detective Keller, can I get you something as well?”

“Do you have tea?” Bailey asked. Janice nodded and stood up. Bailey joined her. “Let me help you.”

Bailey hated tea. But that was her signal that she was buying me time alone with Amanda. When Janice and Bailey left the room, I leaned toward Amanda, who’d reseated herself on the ottoman, and kept my voice low. “You’re not in any trouble, Amanda. I’m going to tell your mom that you won’t need a lawyer. But I think it’d be better if we talked privately. What do you say?”

Amanda nodded and swallowed hard. “Only, can you promise not to tell anyone what I tell you?”

“I can promise to try. Okay?”

She sighed and looked away. Her hair fell forward, cloaking her face like a blanket. Eventually, she nodded. Bailey came in carrying a cup of tea and raised her eyebrows at me in a silent question. I nodded. Janice followed, carrying two bottles of water. I took one of the bottles and thanked her.

“Amanda is not going to need a lawyer. She’s not in any trouble and she’s not going to be.”

Bailey took over. “But we will need to talk to her for quite a while. So if you wouldn’t mind calling the school…”

Janice nodded and turned to look at me. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely. I’ll put it in writing and on tape if you like.”

“No, that’s okay.”

“But it would help if we could talk to her alone,” I said. “We need her to try and remember a lot of details, and having someone else listening can be a distraction.” I wasn’t sure that was true, but it was the best I could come up with off the cuff.

Janice looked uncertain. “I think I’d rather-”

“Mom, it’s okay. I’m not a baby. Let me do this. And you need to get to work anyway. These guys can take me to school when we’re done.”

Janice studied her daughter. “No, I’m staying here. Work can wait. But I won’t sit with you, okay? I’ll just be in the den…”

Amanda sighed. “Okay.”

Janice scanned us all with one last look of concern, then left the room. Amanda moved to the wing chair and tucked her feet under her. I picked up where we’d left off. “When was the last time you went to a gun show?”

“Last spring. I wasn’t that interested, but Evan wanted to go.”

“Was that out here in Colorado? Or in Texas?”

“Here, in Colorado Springs.”

“So he traveled out here to see you?”

“Not just me. He said they were going to visit family out in Utah.”

“So he didn’t come alone?”

“No, he brought Logan.” Amanda swallowed, her expression wary. “He’s the guy…the other shooter, isn’t he?”

“Yes. Was he friendly with you?” Amanda let her hair fall all the way across her face. The gesture couldn’t have been more obvious. “It’s not your fault, Amanda. There was no way for you to know.”

After a few moments, she nodded. “He…sorta had a crush on me. But I got the feeling it was mostly because he always wanted what Evan had.”

“And were you Evan’s girlfriend?”

Amanda nodded shyly. I saw a faint tinge of pride before she dropped her eyes. “We got together just before I moved out here. Back in Lubbock, we saw each other every day, but we didn’t really get, like, involved until about a month before I left.” Amanda gazed off into the distance of her memory, a happier place. “Evan could get any girl he wanted. Even last year’s junior prom queen. She was a model. And he was just a sophomore.”