Brian Freeman - Spilled Blood

‘You don’t need to explain,’ he said.

‘It was a stupid mistake.’

‘Was it?’

She looked uncomfortable. ‘I’m not saying I regret it, but we don’t have to make a big thing out of it, do we?’

‘Maybe we should.’

Hannah reached for his face, but she pulled her hand back. ‘Think about our situation, Chris. We have enough to worry about with Olivia. We don’t need to add more complications right now.’

He nodded, but he wasn’t happy. ‘That’s true.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, you’re right.’ He nodded at the house. ‘Do you want to rescind your invitation?’

‘About staying here? No, you should.’

‘What do we tell Olivia?’

‘We tell her that it will be easier if you stay in the house. She doesn’t need to know what happened between us.’

Chris didn’t think it would be easier for him, being around Hannah after they’d made love again, but he didn’t object. He opened his car door, and before he climbed inside, Hannah embraced him. She held on longer than two friends would. When they broke apart, the flush on her face suggested that she was conflicted about their relationship too. He drove off without saying more, but he watched her in the mirror, and she followed him with her eyes until he was gone.

Things were already complicated.

He headed north on the lonely highway toward the courthouse in Barron for his meeting with Michael Altman. When he arrived at the grand old building on the hill, he found the county attorney waiting for him on a bench among the empty flower urns. Altman had his black trench coat draped over his arm and his fedora planted neatly on his head. His black glasses were pushed to the end of his nose, and he had his mobile phone extended at the end of his arm. He squinted, trying to read.

‘Mr. Hawk,’ Altman said. ‘I need coffee, do you mind?’

‘Not at all.’

Altman slid his phone into his suit coat pocket. ‘These little screens are a conspiracy of the young. I’m sorry I won’t be around to enjoy it when the current generation turns fifty and their eyes give out.’

Chris laughed. The county attorney bounded off the bench and led him down the terraced steps toward the town’s main street. He struggled to keep up with Altman, and he was convinced that the older attorney would outlive most of the younger generation. Altman led Chris across the street to a dive called Jack’s that smelled of beer and stale smoke. He waved at the bartender and slid into a booth covered in torn red vinyl. Chris sat opposite. They were the only customers inside.

‘This place is old Barron,’ Altman said, laying his fedora on the table. ‘Pre-Mondamin. It’s been around since before I became county attorney. They water their beer so much they could sell it as Dasani, but I’ve got a soft spot for the place. That, and they make morning coffee so strong you can chew it.’

Without being asked, the bartender dropped a steaming mug in front of Altman and stared at Chris with a question mark on his face. Chris shook his head.

‘You wanted to see me?’ Chris asked, when the bartender was gone.

Altman blew on his coffee. ‘I hear you’ve been busy.’

‘You could say that.’

‘The sheriff says you dropped off bloody clothes belonging to Johan Magnus.’

‘That’s right.’

‘So Johan was in the park that night. I’m impressed. Do you think he killed her?’

Chris thought about Glenn Magnus. I hope we’re both right. ‘I don’t know, but he had a motive. Ashlynn dumped him when she got pregnant. She had an abortion. He could have lost control when he found out.’

Altman sipped his coffee and used a napkin to wipe the mug and the table. ‘I’m not sure a jury will see Johan as a killer. I’m not sure I do, either.’

‘There’s as much evidence to suggest that Johan killed her as there is to suggest that Olivia killed her. Your airtight case just sprang a big leak.’

The county attorney smiled at him over the top of the coffee mug. ‘I’m used to defense attorneys blowing smoke, Mr. Hawk. You’re trolling for other suspects, which is fine, but the evidence still points squarely at your daughter.’

‘I reviewed the evidence the police gathered,’ Chris added. ‘Something else doesn’t make sense.’

Altman lifted an eyebrow. ‘What’s that?’

‘Ashlynn didn’t have a laptop. It’s not in the inventory of personal possessions, either in her car or her room.’

The county attorney frowned. ‘That’s a little odd, I’ll grant you.’

‘I can think of a few reasons why the police didn’t find it. One, Ashlynn got rid of it herself before she arrived in the ghost town. Two, it was taken from her, either before or after the murder. Three, Florian and Julia removed it from her room prior to the police search.’

‘Why would they do that?’

‘Maybe because there were things about Ashlynn they didn’t want anyone to find.’

‘Or maybe Olivia took the laptop herself,’ Altman said.

‘Now who’s blowing smoke?’

Altman smiled. ‘Exactly what do you think was on Ashlynn’s laptop that makes it so important?’

‘I have no idea. E-mails? Calendar items? A history of web sites she visited?’

‘I’ll talk to Florian,’ Altman said. ‘There may be an innocent explanation. Her computer may be at school or somewhere else in the house.’

‘Maybe.’

Altman put his mug down and folded his hands together. ‘I understand your interest in conspiracy theories, Mr. Hawk, but let me explain something to you about the men and women who serve on juries in this county. They’re not fools. They’re solid, hard-working Christians with a lot of common sense. If you think you can misdirect them, you’re wasting your time. If you really want to help your daughter, tell her to come clean, and we’ll see what we can do for her.’

‘She didn’t kill Ashlynn.’

Altman sighed. ‘Mr. Hawk, I don’t like to see a seventeen-year-old girl spend the rest of her life in prison, no matter what she did, but at the end of the day, my responsibility is to Ashlynn Steele. I knew that girl well. I’m not going to let her death go unpunished.’

‘There were other things going on in Ashlynn’s life. There are other possible motives for her murder.’

‘Like what?’

‘Vernon Clay,’ Chris said.

He expected another dismissal from the county attorney. You’re chasing ghosts. Instead, Altman pursed his lips with concern and eased back into the booth. He studied Chris with a new curiosity. ‘Why bring him up?’

‘I didn’t. Ashlynn did. She was asking questions about him before she was killed.’

For the first time, Chris saw a tiny crack of doubt in the man’s eyes.

‘You’re sure about that?’ Altman asked.

‘I am.’

‘Who was she talking to?’

‘I’d rather not give you a name right now, but my source is reliable. Ashlynn talked to him directly.’

‘Is it someone at Mondamin?’

Chris said nothing.

Altman gently drummed his fingers on the table. ‘Vernon Clay left town years ago. Do you have any actual evidence that Ashlynn’s interest in him had something to do with her death?’

‘No, but I don’t have her laptop.’

‘Ah, yes, of course. The mysterious laptop. I like how you tie things together. So what do you want me to believe? You think Ashlynn was poking around in her father’s secrets because of Vernon Clay, and she learned something that put her in danger?’

‘Maybe. If she kicked the hornet’s nest, who knows what flew out?’

‘Do you have any theories?’

Chris leaned forward across the table. ‘You tell me, Mr. Altman. I get the feeling you know something you’re not sharing with me.’