“Which friend was he with?”
“He was with Easton Crandall.”
My heart dropped at that name, “Is Easton okay?”
“Yes, he is a suspect. I think he knows more than he is letting on.”
“No, not Easton. He and my brother…no, Easton loves Jared like a brother. There has to be someone else.”
The officer held up a hand. “It’s going to take time to piece this all together, but we will get to the bottom of it. I wish that I had more to tell you, but I don’t, not yet. I will be by your home tomorrow to talk and explain to you everything I’ve learned.”
I wanted to keep asking questions, anything that would keep me there, I didn’t want to go home to a place without Jared.
I finally conceded and let the officer lead me from the room as I looked back just in case Jared would be there.
I woke to a reeling mind, there was so much to get done, starting with organizing a funeral. I walked out to the kitchen of our small house to make something to eat, I had no clue when was the last time I had eaten. But plans for food was thwarted by a knocking at my door.
Shit, the detective, he was here, and now more than food I needed to know about my brother.
I opened the door, finding the detective waiting for me.
“Good morning, Miss Brogan, may I come in?”
I stepped back to let him enter and then headed back to the kitchen. He took a seat at my table.
“Before I begin, I did a little research last night and discovered that you’re only seventeen. Since Jared is listed as you guardian, I had to notify the department of family services.”
“What the fuck? My brother just died, and you want me to go into the system?”
“I thought that would be your reaction, so I downloaded these for you.” He slid several sheets of paper my way. “It’s a declaration of emancipation. Fill these out, there is no reason that it should be denied. Your house is paid for. Are you still in high school?”
“No, I just finished it online.”
“Just fill them out and have them ready for when the social worker comes by,” he told me.
“Fine.” I shoved one hand through my hair. “Now, about my brother?”
“Like I said last night, he was in DT Coyote area, they have a funny way of deciding who is allowed to be there and who isn’t. They could have shot him for something as simple as trespassing or because they didn’t like the color shirt he was wearing.” Detective Getty stared at me, our eyes locked. “Or, your brother had pissed one of them off. Do you know if your brother had any enemies?”
“No. Jared was the kindest person you could ever meet.”
“How about Easton, have the two of them been fighting?”
I thought about it but couldn’t remember a single time the two had ever argued. I shook my head adamantly. “No. Easton is like a brother.”
“Gangs are dangerous, and the Coyotes are no exception, we don’t always know why they do the things they do.”
“Are you sure it was a gang?” I asked, gripping the arms of the chair. I needed to know these little details because he was my brother, my best friend, my protector. We had been there for each other when no one else had.
I stared at the detective, who was looking down at his hands. He cleared his throat. “We don’t know for sure,” he finally answered. “It is just an educated guess when I say it was a DT Coyote. I’ve seen way too many deaths in my career. I find that people tend to look for elaborate reasons, conspiracy theories when in all truth the simplest answer is usually the correct one.”
“Occam’s razor,” I stated. He looked at me somewhat baffled, maybe shocked that I knew what Occam’s razor was, I wasn’t dumb.
“Exactly,” Detective Getty confirmed. “The easiest conclusion is often the right one.”
“What do you think that is?”
“Easton Crandall wasn’t shot. The DT Coyotes aren’t exactly merciful, there is a reason that Easton survived.”
This man was crazy. “I don’t believe you. There is no way Easton was involved. You’re just going to jump to conclusions?” I said the words in a high, sarcastic fashion. “He was my brother, my best friend, and he was murdered. Doesn’t that mean anything to you people? You just want to close the case. You’re going to pin it on Easton just so you don’t have to do anything else.”
“No. I’m going to bring Easton in and talk with him, I’ll get to the bottom of this, but just to let you know, your brother’s friend is refusing to talk,” Detective Getty responded. He was overly calm. “We are still launching a proper investigation, but so far we haven’t found anything that would identify the car or any of the passengers. Ballistics might come back with a match to a prior, but we have to wait on the lab until then all we have to go on is Easton Crandall.”
My anger continued to rise. “You better find out who did this, and you better arrest them. Because Jared was a good person, and he didn’t deserve it.”
“I’m sure he didn’t.” The detective was placating.
All of this infuriated me because the detective could go home to his family and laugh about stupid things, I would never laugh again.
Easton
Dirt.
I could tell you with unascertainable doubt what dirt smelled like. It smelled like the wall of the outside of my house.
There had been a knock on my door and as soon as I answered, a cop had his hands on me and was pulling me out on to my front porch.
“Easton Crandall, you are under arrest for the murder of Jared Brogan.” The officer had his hand on the nape of my neck and was pushing my face forward. “You have the right to remain
