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SIXTEEN
Jesslyn’s phone buzzed with a call from a number she didn’t recognize, but she swiped the screen anyway. She often got calls without any ID. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Jesslyn McCormick?”
“It is.”
“This is Isabelle Sims. From Tradition’s Custom Touch. You left your card with me the day you visited and asked about my grandfather and his recordkeeping system.”
“Oh yes, hi. What can I do for you?”
“I was talking to my grandmother and asked her what happened to all of the old files, and she said she has everything in her basement. She never got rid of them.”
What she was saying sunk in. “You mean you have all of the files from the old sales?”
“Exactly. I thought you might want to come look at them.”
“That would be incredible.” She chewed her lip for a second. “But let me see if I can arrange to have everything transported to the police station.”
“Oh. Okay. I don’t mind you coming to her house. The basement has a separate entrance.”
“It would be a real pain for her to have us there for as long as it’s going to take us to go through the files. Trust me, it’s better this way.” And if Jesslyn was at her home, there was always the possibility of her attacker following.
Isabelle laughed. “I guess you have a point. That’s fine. Just text or call when you’re ready to come get the files. Her house is only about five minutes from the store so I can meet you any time.”
“A team of officers will come and make quick work of moving them. But I’ll let you know when they’re on the way. Thank you so much.”
Jesslyn hung up and made the calls to arrange for the files to be picked up and delivered to the local police department. Nathan and Andrew had a small office there that they’d been given permission to use for the duration of the investigation, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t be big enough to hold the files. They’d probably have to use the conference room. She called the police chief to verify if that was all right and he agreed. She then left messages with Nathan and Andrew about what she’d done and sat back with a huff.
Her hands had started to throb and her leg was about to make her loony. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could ignore the pain.
Lainie walked over and held out a hand with a dose of pain meds. In the other hand she held a bottle of water.
Jesslyn raised a brow. “So, you can read my mind now?”
“I’m observant. It’s part of the job description.”
“I can’t take anything that will make me sleepy, Lainie. I’ve got too much to do.”
“This isn’t a narcotic. It’ll cut the pain but won’t knock you out.”
“Oh. Great.” She checked to make sure she had all the information from the gym fire that Charles, the Asheville fire marshal, had covered for her, then popped the pill with a swallow of water. She set the bottle on the coffee table and closed her eyes. “Wake me when everyone gets here?”
“Of course. Rest. You need it. Your body’s been through a big trauma.”
“I know. I’ll try.”
Jesslyn shut her eyes, worried she’d dream of the attack or the man in her room, but found herself dozing, aware of the others near her, knowing she was safe—for the moment.
NATHAN AND ANDREW HAD A CHAT with the chief before they walked into Kenny’s interrogation room, garnering the facts of how they’d found him. When they walked in, the smell hit them first and Nathan winced. Andrew grimaced and shook his head.
Kenny was dozing, head cradled in his arms. At their entrance, he blinked and looked up, eyes bleary and bloodshot but hard and angry. “I haven’t done anything wrong and I’m missing classes. You can’t keep me here.” He picked up the towelette next to him and rubbed his hands with it. Nathan was glad to see they’d already swabbed them for residue, although it might be too late at this point to get anything from them.
“You didn’t seem too concerned about missing classes when you were passed out drunk behind the gas station.” One of the attendants had stepped outside to take out the trash and found him. Thinking he was dead, the guy called 911. Officers arrived and recognized him about the time Kenny started to wake up. Once they discerned he wasn’t hurt, merely drunk, they brought him in and the chief had texted Nathan.
The door opened and a young officer handed Andrew a folder. “Results.”
Andrew flipped it open and drew in a breath before shutting it and shaking his head at Nathan.
No residue on his hands. Great. Andrew passed him the folder. The chief had included a note. Sorry, but ask him questions and let him go. We’ve got nothing.
Nathan wanted to pound the table with a fist. Instead, he looked Kenny in the eye. “We just wanted to ask you a few more questions, then you can go.”
Triumph flickered briefly and Nathan wished he knew why.
He set the surveillance picture on the table and slid it over so Kenny could see it. “Take a look at that, will you?”
Kenny raised a brow but leaned forward to look. He frowned and glanced up. “We all know I was at the scene of the fire. What’s the big deal about this picture?”
“The big deal is the guy standing behind you to your right. Recognize him?”
Kenny looked again. “Whoa. What? Brad? What was he doing there?”
“That’s what we want to know,” Andrew said.
“I don’t know. He didn’t come with me. I had no idea he was back there.”
Nathan scoffed. “Right, nice try.”
“I’m serious, man. Ask him.”
Nathan hesitated. “We can’t.”
Kenny frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Kenny, I’m sorry you have to hear it from us, but Brad died early this morning.”
The boy paled and shook his head. “Died? No. You’re lying.”
“We’re not lying,” Andrew said. “The word is he jumped off the dorm’s roof.”
“No! It’s not true! This is really cruel, even for the FBI. Why would you tell me that?”
Nathan’s heart ached for the guy’s potent grief, and he hated to be the one to have to break the news to him this way. “He was your friend. I’m sorry. I’ve lost someone I was close to and I know your grief.”
At the kind words, Kenny nodded. “It’s really true?”
“Yeah, man, I’m so sorry. Really.”
Tears spilled over the young man’s lower lashes to stream down his cheeks. Andrew grabbed a box of tissues and placed them on the table. Kenny grabbed a handful and shoved them against his eyes. “It’s not true. Brad wouldn’t jump. He wasn’t suicidal. No way you’ll ever convince me of that.”
Nathan glanced at Andrew. Three denials of any suicidal tendencies. True? Or just clueless friends?
“Okay, if Brad didn’t jump, can you think of someone who’d want him dead?”
He hesitated, then sputtered, “No, of course not. We’re just college students, trying to figure out life. Did you ask Heath?”
“Yes. He said the same thing you did.”
“This is wrong,” Kenny whispered. “So messed up.”
“Kenny, if you’re hiding something, protecting someone—”
“I’m not.”
He was lying. Every instinct shouted it at Nathan, but if the guy wasn’t talking, there wasn’t much more they could do about it. He rubbed his temples.
The chief—and their SSA, who was in agreement with the chief—might make them let him go, but they could keep an eye on him.
“You can call someone to come get you,” Andrew said.
“Give me my phone and I’ll call an Uber. I’m going back to campus. I need to be there. The guys will need my support.” He looked from Nathan to Andrew back to Nathan. “Can I go now?”
“Yeah. You can collect your stuff from the officer at the end of the hall. The one behind the window,” Nathan said.
Kenny shot them an open glare and left the room.
Nathan’s phone rang and he glanced at the screen. Eli. For crying out loud. He sent it to voicemail and followed Kenny out the door, thankful to see an undercover unit watching from a distance. An Uber arrived and Kenny climbed in. The unmarked unit followed and would report where Kenny wound up.
Nathan checked the time.
Jesslyn was waiting. He texted the group he was on the way, said goodbye to Andrew, and hurried to his car.