Page 53 of Silent Bones

The room fell quiet. The static on the TV flickered like an old ghost behind them.

“Are you going to take me in?”

Noah stood. “You’re not under arrest. And you’re not being charged.”

Logan blinked. “Then… I can go?”

“No. You’re not going anywhere. You’re the only witness we have in an active investigation. You’ll stay in town. Here at the motel. A deputy will be parked out front. Understood?”

Logan nodded.

McKenzie added, “We’ll need your clothes. Bag. Everything from the trip.”

Logan looked like he wanted to protest, but slumped back against the wall instead and went about collecting clothes he wore that night. He’d had a friend bring some fresh clothes by.

Noah turned to leave, then paused. “Is there anything else? Anything you remember, no matter how small?”

Logan stared at the carpet, then whispered, “It sounded like more than just people screaming. It sounded… like something big. Something angry.”

Noah’s gaze held him. “What do you mean? Something… human?”

Logan didn’t answer but a shake of his head implied something else.

Back outside, the night air had gone colder, damp with oncoming rain. The hum of the old motel sign buzzed behind them, flickering over cracked gravel. Somewhere near the vending machine, a moth battered itself against the fluorescent glow, frantic and aimless.

Noah paused at the bottom of the stairs, watching the light from Logan’s room spill weakly through the drawn curtain. A shadow moved. Logan pacing.

“You buy his story?” McKenzie asked, voice low, arms crossed over his chest.

Noah exhaled slowly. “I buy that he’s scared. That he heard something.”

McKenzie frowned. “But what the hell did he hear? You think he saw the killer?”

“I don’t think he knows what he saw. The weed probably didn’t help.”

McKenzie’s voice tightened. “We’re chasing shadows, Noah. First Theresa points at Jesse’s father, now we know Stephen’s a victim, not a perp. Now Logan’s painting bearded drifters in the woods and growling sounds in the dark? Fuck, I have no idea what to believe.”

“He’s not the first to mention a strange presence out there.” Noah looked toward the road, where distant headlights flared and faded.

They started walking back toward the SUV, boots crunching in the wet gravel. Thunder rumbled low, barely more than a groan in the mountains.

“If someone is tying up loose ends, we should keep eyes on him,” McKenzie said.

Noah nodded. “We’ll have Callie check in with him. And put a patrol on the place.”

At the vehicle, McKenzie paused, hand on the door. “I wonder if Jesse’s father could’ve done it?”

The question stopped Noah cold.

Mark Linwood.

The man who was accused of reacting to Stephen and Jesse. The man with a temper and reputation for control. The one who might’ve seen his son’s sexuality, or secrets, as threats to his reputation. Noah considered what Theresa had said. That Stephen was scared. That Jesse had been hit. That someone was willing to go to extremes to silence the past.

McKenzie clicked his fingers. “Noah, you with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Could he kill his own son?” McKenzie pressed.