Page 9

He let silence linger for a few seconds before asking, “Could the bruises on your neck have come from another source?”

“Mayor Jennings thinks maybe my purse strap yanked against it when Ifell.” The emphasis she put on the last word was as clear as if she’d added finger quotes to it.

Eric shook his head. “Doubtful. The bruising would look very different. Those are strangulation marks.” Hope rose in her eyes. He hated to squelch it, but he had to cover his bases, and since she wasn’t getting the hint, he was going to have to be direct. “Has someone else hurt you? A boyfriend? Family member?”

Her mouth dropped open, but she didn’t break eye contact when she answered. “Absolutely not. You know my family would never do anything like that.”

He did—theoretically. He’d known them for a long time, and he and her brother had become good friends after Bryce’s return to Kincaid from active military service. In Eric’s opinion, her family would be the least likely suspects in something like this. But as an investigator, he’d had to ask. “What about a boyfriend?”

“I don’t have one.”

Good. Even as jaded as he was, the thought of Allye having an abusive boyfriend unsettled him. But the denial brought them back to square one. Someone had attempted to strangle her, and the only explanation she had was dubious at best. And while he only knew Allye to tell the truth—and to be terrible at hiding it on the rare occasions she tried to—she could still be protecting someone. That scenario happened more often than most people liked to consider. But if that was the case, there was little chance of determining the culprit without Allye’s cooperation.

He stifled a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ll file the report, but there’s not much I can do at this point.”

“Do you ... at least believe me?” Her voice was small.

“I believe something happened last night,” he said as gently as he could. “And like I said, I believe those are strangulation marks on your neck. But the evidence indicates you fell down the stairs and hit your head.”

She lowered her gaze, but not before he caught the sheen of tears. Great. Allye was the last person he wanted to make cry. But what could he say? He had to follow the evidence, which was severely lacking.

“Thanks for looking,” she mumbled as she climbed back into her car. She sat there for a minute, then pulled onto the road without her customary exuberant wave.

He watched as she drove away—the brightness of her cherry red Jetta a stark contrast to the slump of her shoulders. He hated seeing her disappointment, but he couldn’t lie to her. And there was little he could do without evidence to corroborate her story.

He put in a call to Mayor Jennings’s office and requested a callback to schedule an interview. He owed Allye that much. But he couldn’t spend much more time on this. There just wasn’t enough evidence to warrant it, and he had other cases that needed his attention. Cases like Ashley Harrison’s overdose.

He checked his phone. Nothing from Dion. The teen’s absence was concerning. If he’d skipped school because he was sick, he should have been at home. But he could be at a friend’s house. Overslept and decided not to show up late. Played hooky for some other reason. Not ideal, but at least he’d be okay.

Eric couldn’t shake the feeling that wasn’t the case though. Dion might be mixing with a bad crowd, but he was a good kid, a fairly responsible one. At least, he had been.

He tried calling him again. No answer, so he returned to his car and called the school again. Still no sign of him. Eric requested the names and numbers of his friends—especially any who had also missed school today—and was told they wouldget back to him. He pocketed his phone and stared through the windshield.

He’d check with Dion’s friends. If he got nowhere, he’d return to the boy’s home and see if he showed up. But if they still knew nothing by nightfall, he’d be adding a missing person investigation to the top of his caseload.

5

Allye wasn’t sure where she was headed,but she barely made it around a bend in the road before the tears started falling. She knew what had happened last night—had the bruises to prove it. Why wouldn’t anyone listen to her? Eric obviously felt bad about it, but he didn’t believe her either. She didn’t blame him. He was a facts guy, and there wasn’t much for him to go on. Didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

She thought back to her conversation with the mayor, tried to force herself to remember exactly what he’d said. He’d found her face down at the bottom of the steps. But she had no abrasions on her face. No sore spots on her forehead or the sides of her head—only a bit at the back where she remembered being slammed against the brick wall. It didn’t fit.

But she had to admit, her memories didn’t fit either. She should be dead. She was choked to the point of unconsciousness. Why hadn’t the attacker finished her off? How had he moved her to the foot of the steps and gotten away before the mayor’s arrival? And why bother?

She snatched a tissue from the box on her passenger seat and dried her tears. There had to be an explanation for last night’s events. Had to.

But what if the truth lay somewhere in the middle or in a third option? Her stomach tightened at the thought, but she forced herself to follow that line of reasoning. Could her recent health issues have progressed to include hallucinations? Over the past couple of months, she’d been experiencing severe brain fog in addition to a handful of other symptoms—including a persistent fatigue that no amount of sleep or caffeine could shake.

The threat of a cramp started in her right hand, and she shifted her hold on the steering wheel, using the thumb of her opposite hand to massage the offending area. Part of her wondered if dwelling on her condition had prompted the sensation—an anxiety response, as one specialist had suggested. But no. She pushed that thought aside. Again. She might harbor some anxiety about her health or lack thereof, but that had begun wellafterthe symptoms appeared. And her other doctors had agreed with Allye that something more was going on.

That was some comfort, even if they hadn’t yet pinpointed what that something was. So far all the tests had come back negative or inconclusive. Unfortunately, all that meant was she had a better idea of what she didn’t have—and any of the things they’d checked for would be better than what she suspected. She hadn’t shared her concerns with anyone but her doctors. But if she was correct, things were only going to get worse.

But hallucinations? That wasn’t part of the disease, was it? Potential cognitive deficiency, yes, but hallucinations ... that would be ten times worse.

And that possibility still didn’t explain the bruising on her neck.

She needed to do more research. When she found the energy.

Her phone chimed a reminder tone. She snatched it from the center console. What had she forgotten this time? She glanced at the readout.Senior Photos: Jayden Alexander, park,4:00 p.m.