Page 56 of Don't Say a Word

“I’m not thinking anything until I find out what happened the day leading up to his death.”

“Financial crime isn’t my area,” Rick said. “We have an entire team that works those cases. Most EBT fraud that we investigate is where stores let those on welfare use the cards for ineligible items.” Rick paused. “I’m not going to jam up people for buying smokes. I don’t like it, they’re supposed to use their money for food, but we have far worse crimes to worry about.”

“It’s just a thread I’m tugging.”

“If it was common, like they did it regularly and not just for a few friends and family, then they would have to cook the books—meaning, ring up an eligible item, but sell them an ineligible item. The manager would definitely know about it though, because they would be responsible for inventory. If it’s a big enough scam, then the financial manager for the business would eventually figure it out. You want me to reach out to one of my buddies in financial crimes?”

“If you have time. Just so I can get a handle on how these scams work.”

“I’ll send her your name and number.”

“I appreciate it.”

Rick finished his last couple fries. “That particular Cactus Stop is in a sketchy neighborhood. Think something else might have been going on? Something that could have put the kid in danger? That area gets a lot of calls.”

In cop-speak, that meant PPD had an active presence.

“Possible,” I said. “He walked home every night, between eight and nine. He could have witnessed a crime, or was in the wrong place, wrong time. But that still doesn’t explain how he ended up at a park more than a mile away dead of a drug overdose. There’s a five-hour window that’s unaccounted for.”

“But the police didn’t find anything.”

“The police did shit.” I winced. I was blunt by nature. Sometimes it was a good thing. Not so much when I was talking to a friend who was a cop.

I tempered my tone and said, “I think Detective King was premature in writing off Elijah’s death as an accidental overdose.”

“That would be the ME’s determination.”

“Elijah died of an overdose, that’s not in dispute. There were no signs that he was suicidal, hence accidental overdose. But what if it wasn’t?”

“You mean if someone killed him.”

I hedged, just a bit. “I haven’t gone that far yet. But considering that Lena Clark, the counselor at the school,wasstabbed to death less than two weeks after Elijah died, and she was asking questions about his death, I need to consider the possibility. The police didn’t retrace his steps. They don’t know where he was the hours before he died.”

“Margo, while I have a lot of issues with some detectives down at headquarters, I don’t think they would have closed the case if there were signs that something was amiss.”

“I do,” I said. “I’m not ready to say he was murdered, butsomeonehas to know what he was doing for those five hours. Josie thinks there’s something there, but she’s not in a position to investigate—and she got slapped by King for adding information to the report after the case was closed. Plus, King blames Josie for Lena Clark’s complaint about the investigation. Both Josie and I talked to one of Elijah’s friends, a girl named Angie. She’s adamant there was something going on with him that wasn’t drugs.”

“Your cousin has a soft spot.”

“Then I guess so do I.”

Rick snorted. “You don’t believe that, Margo. You can smell bullshit a mile away, but when you believe in someone, you fight for them. You believe in this teenager.”

I considered. “To a point. I met her this morning. She’s street smart, but she’s also book-smart. I definitely thinkshebelieves that Elijah was as clean as Mother Teresa, but I also got it out ofher that he had been preoccupied and aloof the last few weeks. Uncle Rafe brought Elijah’s mother to me. He was her only son. Her husband died ten years ago. I want to find the answers, good or bad.”

“I get it.” He thought a moment. “If something is going on at the Cactus Stop, if it’s a white-collar or fraud crime, I may not have paid attention. We get dozens of bulletins a day.”

“The joys of paperwork.”

Rick grinned, rose. He took out his wallet and I pushed his hand back. “Nope, you helped me, my treat.”

“I don’t know what I did, but I won’t say no to a free lunch.”

We walked out together and as I unlocked my Jeep, Rick said, “I mean it about Sam’s games. She’d like to see you.”

What about you?I thought but didn’t say.

I couldn’t even say that I wanted to get back together with Rick, even if he wanted to. What he said back in January hurt, and if he didn’t trust me to always do right by Sam, I didn’t know if I could live under those conditions. I don’t know if I would go back even if he apologized. Which he hadn’t.