Thomas sat forward.
“So Dawn had a sibling.”
“A brother, yes. Alec Samson. He was a year younger than Dawn.”
“Did the kid have a record?”
“Nope. You’d figure a kid who suffered through that much torment would get into trouble—fights, drugs, something. But he was clean as a whistle. Anyhow, we tried to link the Dawn Samson and Skye Feron cases. It was a dead end road.”
“You’re certain Dawn’s suicide wasn’t foul play.”
“I trust Virgil’s opinion. As I recall, the ligature marks on her neck indicated suicide. A chaotic pattern would have suggested someone tied the rope around Dawn’s neck and fought her. That wasn’t the case.”
“And with Skye…”
“She just vanished. There was no evidence to tie her to Dawn Samson, though I always worried we’d missed something important.”
A black crow flew past the window and set down atop the guest house, its head swiveling as the sun dissolved into the bird’s black eyes.
“Sheriff, this Webb-WLHS person claims Paige and Justine tortured Dawn.” Gray went silent. “Did you hear what I said?”
“My God, Thomas. That’s the missing link. Did those girls drive Dawn to suicide?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Saturday, August 14th
1:20 p.m.
LeVar stood before the mirror and scowled. He looked like a penguin.
“You’re very handsome,” Naomi said from behind, straightening his jacket. “I’d hire you in an instant.”
“I don’t know.” LeVar pushed his hair back. “Should I hide the dreads inside the jacket?”
The horrified look Naomi gave him in the mirror answered his question. Watching from the front room of the guest house, Scout snorted. Naomi shot her daughter a warning glare not to upset LeVar.
Not that it mattered. His heart pounded, and he couldn’t breathe with the tie cinched up to his Adam’s apple. Even when Ruth Sims interviewed him for the Broken Yolk job, he’d been a hot mess. But this was the real deal. The big leagues. Three months ago, he was a street kid living on borrowed time. After today, he might have a full-time job in his dream profession.
If he didn’t blow the interview.
After Raven called with the good news, he’d borrowed a navy blue jacket, matching slacks, a white dress shirt, and a tie from Thomas. Fortunately, LeVar still had his dress shoes from two years ago when Trey died. LeVar almost quit the Kings after someone gunned down his friend in Harmon. The police never found the shooter, though LeVar suspected the rival Royals gang murdered Trey.
Staring into the mirror, he wiped his clammy hands on his jacket and forced his best smile.
“Just relax and be yourself,” Naomi said, picking lint off his shoulder. “You know Chelsey.”
“Yeah, and she hates me.”
“She hates everyone,” said Scout, wheeling herself down the hallway. “Don’t take it personally.”
“Thanks a ton.”
“She doesn’t hate you,” Naomi said, tugging on the jacket sleeves. No matter how hard she worked, she couldn’t alter physics. LeVar was two sizes larger than Thomas. This was the best they could do on short notice. “Thomas says Chelsey is going through a tough time. All the more reason she needs someone reliable to help her at the office. I’m sure Raven put in a kind word for you.”
LeVar’s mouth was too dry to swallow. As if she sensed his discomfort, Scout tossed him his iced tea.
“Thanks.” He took a swig. “I owe you one. Both of you.”
“You buy the pizza after your first paycheck,” Scout said.
“I low-key can’t wait until I get this interview done with. At least I still have the Broken Yolk if today goes south.”
“Positive thoughts,” Scout said, drawing a nod from Naomi.
He gave the mirror one last glance.
“Okay. I can do this.”
As he fidgeted with the cuffs, Naomi rounded Scout’s wheelchair.
“Let’s give LeVar space so he can get ready.”
His hands refused to sit still. He straightened the tie for the hundredth time, tucking the end into his jacket. The tie was like an ill-mannered snake that refused to stay in its cage.
“Call us when it’s over,” Naomi said, patting his shoulder as they headed out the door. “You’ll knock her socks off.”
The door closed, locking him inside the silent house. Alone with his thoughts.
Was this actually happening? If Chelsey hired LeVar, he wouldn’t need a college loan. He pictured his mother’s face if he won the job. Despite Serena’s differences with Raven, she always expected her daughter to achieve success. But not LeVar.
Until now.
He peeked out the window. Naomi pushed Scout up the walkway Thomas carved last spring. His heart warmed. For the first time in his life, he had dependable friends and an extended family to pick him up when he was down. People believed in him, and he wouldn’t disappoint them. His car, a black Chrysler Limited that had once been the most feared vehicle in Nightshade County, waited in Thomas’s driveway. He calculated the drive to Wolf Lake Consulting in his head, intent on arriving five minutes early, even if he encountered traffic. Which meant he needed to unlock his frozen knees and get moving.
He inhaled deeply and let the breath out.
Grabbing his keys off the counter, he pocketed his wallet. Then the phone rang.
LeVar considered letting the call go to voice-mail. What if it was Chelsey changing the appointment time?
He answered without glancing at the screen.
“LeVar, I’m in trouble.”
Anthony.
LeVar set his hand on the jamb. He’d been seconds from walking out the door.
“Now is not a good time, bro. I got things to do.”
“It’s Rev. Somehow, he found out. He’s gonna kill me and my mom.”
LeVar closed his eyes. Not now.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Kilo pulled me aside, man.” Kilo was the new enforcer for the Harmon Kings, the thug who took LeVar’s spot. He’d earned his moniker by pushing drugs in Harmon, another reason LeVar left the Kings. “Says Rev heard I was tryin’ to get out. He ain’t playin’, LeVar. This time it’s for real.”
“Where are you?”
“In my apartment. They’re outside. The Kings. At least seven of them surrounding the place. I can’t find my mom. She
