“Tell me where she is,” D.D. whispered next to his ear. “Just tell me where Sandy is, Jason, and I’ll bring her home to Ree.”
He leaned closer, so close his lips might have brushed the curve of her cheek, and he could feel the slight involuntary quiver of her body. “Ask Ethan Hastings,” he whispered.
D.D. recoiled. “You’re blaming a thirteen-year-old boy?” she asked incredulously.
“Never underestimate youth,” he said, stony-faced. “Why, the things I did at that age…”
D.D.’s features had shuttered closed. “Jason,” she said tersely, “for a smart man, you’re being very stupid.”
“Because I won’t let you arrest me?”
“No, because you’re not connecting the dots. Let me put it this way By your own admission, you’re not the one who harmed your wife-”
“True.”
“Yet by your daughter’s admission, someone entered your home Wednesday night and harmed Sandy.”
His voice was rougher this time. “True.”
“Your daughter knows something, Jason. More than she’s willing to say. Marianne Jackson is convinced of it. So am I. And I’m telling you now, that girl gets so much as an unexplained freckle and I will pursue you to hell and back.”
He didn’t answer anymore. Mostly because he was too shocked to speak. “You mean… you mean…”
“We’re watching you. Every minute of every hour of every day. You keep that girl safe.”
He got it then, not just the threat, but more subtly, the detective’s warning. Ree was the last person to see Sandy alive. Ree knew more than she was currently willing or able to say. Ree held the key to the puzzle.
Meaning whoever harmed Sandy had one helluva incentive…
Jason couldn’t finish the thought. His chest had grown too tight. Fear or rage? It was too hard to tell. Maybe, for a man like him, those emotions were one and the same.
“No one will harm my child,” he heard himself say. “I will keep my daughter safe.”
D.D. just looked at him. “Yeah? And how many times did you think the same thing about your wife?”
Jason Jones stalked off. D.D. didn’t follow. She returned to the principal’s office, where she and Miller had another go at Ethan, with pretty much the same results. Ethan Hastings was convinced that Jason Jones was pure evil, yet could not offer a single compelling reason why Sandra Jones might claim her husband was dangerous. The boy had found his heroine, and in Jason Jones, the dragon guarding the keep.
His parents were distraught, the father going so far as to pull D.D. aside to mention his wife’s brother, Ethan’s uncle, worked for the state police…
D.D. didn’t have the heart to tell the man that a family connection with the state police hardly bought you brownie points with the BPD.
She and Miller jotted down Ethan’s statement, seized his cell phone to search for incriminating messages between him and his twenty-three-year-old teacher, then hunted down Elizabeth Reyes, aka Mrs. Lizbet, who had a more even-handed assessment of things.
By the time they finished up at the school, it was five o’clock and D.D. was in the mood for lasagna.
“You’re awfully perky,” Miller informed her.
“Good day,” she agreed.
“We still haven’t found Sandra Jones, and now we have a third suspect to consider-a thirteen-year-old Romeo.”
“I don’t think Sandra Jones was sleeping with Ethan Hastings. Though it’ll be fun to search his cell phone.”
Miller slanted her a look. “How can you be so sure? You been watching the same national news I have? Seems like all the pretty teachers have eighth grade boyfriends these days.”
“True.” D.D. wrinkled her nose. “And no, it doesn’t make any sense to me. I mean, hell, it’s not like a woman who looks like Sandra Jones would have a problem attracting male interest.”
“It’s a dominance thing,” Miller assured her. “These women don’t want an equal relationship. They want a relationship with a male who will do whatever they say. And since those of us with testosterone aren’t known for our cooperation, they skew to the younger crowd.”
“So the testosterone is to blame?” D.D. arched a brow. “Huh, maybe I should spend more time at the local middle school.” She blew out a puff of air. “I still don’t think Sandy was sleeping with Ethan Hastings. How could she? By all accounts, she always had her child with her.”
Miller considered the matter. “Maybe it was one of those, what do they call it, ’emotional affairs.’ Sandy basically seduced Ethan via cell phone, e-mail, etc. Then her husband stumbled across some of the messages, and killed her in a fit of jealous rage.”
“Or she mentioned it to the local pervert, Aidan Brewster, and he killed her in a fit of jealous rage. You’re right, we do have too many suspects. But look on the bright side.”
“The bright side?”
“Sandra Jones’s alleged relationship with a student gives us probable cause to seize her computer.”
Miller perked up. “Good day,” he agreed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
