I didn’t know we had a lawyer.
Krakauer seemed to be studying us like we were his psych experiment.
“We just need the information for our records,” Simms said. Her calm tone diffused the anger stifling the air.
Ray grunted. “Sure you do. Stop trying to intimidate Charlie. Take the box and go.”
“Actually, we have a search warrant for the house and the cabin,” Krakauer said.
Joe leaned forward like he planned to grab Krakauer’s tie and yank, which I’d seen him do to his brother Mike a couple of times.
I grabbed his bicep. He allowed me to pull him back into his chair. “If you want to go through the majority of Oscar’s things, you need to go to Goodwill.” I pulled the box toward me. “I saved his birthday cards and sent his school textbooks back. There are his old tax records but not much else in here.” I handed Oscar’s tax record folder to Krakauer. It occurred to me that Oscar had been holding on to the textbooks after he’d dropped out. Why? “The cabin has toilet paper and some kitchen things, but Ray and I cleaned it out.”
Krakauer’s eyebrows slid up his forehead from ‘curious’ to the ‘oh-no’ position. “When was that?” His gaze locked on me.
“The Friday after he died.” I doubted they’d find anything at Goodwill.
The coffee spluttered and hissed in the kitchen. I pushed back from the table and retrieved the coffee pot and placed it in the center of the table on top of a trivet. They could pour their own coffee.
Joe, always a gentleman, poured a cup and slid it toward Simms.
Krakauer helped himself to a cup. He sipped and hummed. “This is good, thank you.” He took another sip. “We talked to the ME’s nurse, Kristi Bias. She said you were close to Oscar.”
I reached for Joe’s hand. “We cared about Oscar. After his parents kicked him out we gave him the cabin to live in. We should have done more, been more present in his life, but as the boys drifted apart we didn’t see him as much and I missed a lot of what was going on his life.” That was a guilt I’d be hanging on to for a long time.
Joe squeezed my hand and I appreciated the extra boost of affection.
“Like what?” Krakauer asked.
“He was failing school. He was playing professional poker and was successful,” I said.
“I’ve got a list of the tournaments he played back at my place,” Ray said. “I interviewed some of the other players and he was well-liked.”
“Uh-huh,” Krakauer sounded unimpressed.
“What made you suspect Tyler was involved in Oscar’s death?” Krakauer picked up his cup of coffee and leaned back in his chair, like we were having a friendly after dinner conversation.
I glanced at Ray. He did a weird eye-thing that I couldn’t read.
“Well?” Krakauer prompted.
“Oscar is–was–a great guy and very careful about his diabetes. There was no way he’d accidentally overdose. I knew his parents wouldn’t bother investigating and Tom was happy with the accidental death ruling.” I ignored Tom’s uncomfortable gaze from across the table. “I knew if I wanted answers I needed to find them myself. I didn’t suspect Tyler at first. I thought it was related to the gambling or maybe a client of Tyler’s. He specializes in adoption. It wasn’t until I went to Tyler’s office, and his receptionist, Polly, mentioned Oscar started to act weird after the last adoption that I considered Tyler’s involvement.” I shrugged, not knowing what else to say.
“I still want to go through the cabin,” Krakauer said. He drained his cup. Apparently, he had an asbestos tongue, esophagus, and stomach.
“Fine,” Joe said.
“I’ll go with you,” Ray said.
Krakauer sighed, but he didn’t argue.
“I’d like to see the list of tournaments and people you interviewed,” Simms said.
“Sure. After we’re done in Oscar’s cabin.” Ray said in his cop-voice.
Krakauer knocked on the table. “Anything else you think we should know, Mrs. Sanders?”
“No. But I have questions. How did Tyler overdose Oscar? It’s not like he could inject him without Oscar putting up a fight. If he laced Oscar’s food or drink with insulin, how did he get Oscar home before he went into a coma?”
Krakauer cleared his throat. “We can only speculate.”
I leaned forward. “Tyler might not have had anything to do with Oscar’s death. I think he had a partner. And what’s going to happen to the adopted children? Will they be reunited with their families?” I asked.
Simms tight-lipped smile was not comforting. “It’s going to take some time to find the parents.” She wrapped her hands around her half-filled coffee mug. “In some cases, the mother may not be found.” She glanced up at Ray and then to me. “We start the search using the missing children reports, but if the child wasn’t reported it’s difficult to find their family.”
“Why wouldn’t the baby be reported as missing?” I asked.
She studied her cup. “It could be the baby was sold or the mother was forced to give up her baby.”
I looked at Joe, not understanding Simms.
He glanced at Simms. “You mean human trafficking?”
“Yes.” She pushed back from the table and stood. “It could take us some time to sort it all out.”
Human trafficking in Forest Forks. Cold slinked down my spine and goosebumps spread across my skin.
Joe stood and showed the agents and Ray out. I gathered the coffee cups and pot and entered the kitchen.
Numb.
I heard the lock snick on the front door and Joe joined me in the kitchen. He pushed two business cards into his wallet and slid his wallet into his back pocket. He picked up my wine glass and refilled it and grabbed a beer for himself.
“I can’t believe
