Page 41 of Dirty Looks

“Mom told me about the kid in the park,” he said, lighting his cigarette and taking a deep inhale. “She said y’all were looking for me.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually seen someone smoke a cigarette. I saw the occasional vape haze, but cigarettes were outlawed in and around all public buildings in Virginia, which was where I spent most of my time.

“That’s right,” Jack said. “We’re trying to get statements from all the neighbors to catch whoever did this to her. Maybe someone saw something unusual. You work at the airport?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Been there a couple years now. It’s an okay job. Traffic sucks, but what are you gonna do when your ex bleeds you for everything you have?”

Jack nodded sympathetically and asked, “What time did you get home yesterday?”

“I get off shift at four,” he said. “But there’s this bar not far from work where all the guys go on Monday nights. Had some dinner. Drank a few beers. Watched a Nationals game.”

“What time did you get home?” Jack asked.

“A little after eleven,” he said, flicking ash next to his work boots. “You’d think it was the middle of the night to hear Mom talk. She always falls asleep in her chair about seven thirty. Thenshe’ll wake up about nine and shuffle off to bed. This whole town drives me crazy. Nothing to do but watch the grass grow and paint dry.”

“Tell me about when you got home,” Jack said. “Any other drivers on the road?”

He flicked the cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, and then tapped another out of the pack from his pocket, lighting it with the ease of long practice.

“Hard to say,” he said. “I wasn’t really paying attention. Just wanted to get home and get to bed. I have to leave for work around four every morning.”

“I’m not here to bust you for drinking and driving,” Jack said affably. “We’re looking for someone who raped and beat a twelve-year-old to death. So I’ll ask you again if you saw anyone on your way home.”

Jackson let out a long stream of smoke and sized Jack up. And then he must have believed him because he said, “Passed a black SUV on Jane Seymour.” He pointed to the corner less than twenty yards away.

“At least tried to pass it,” he said. “I was a little buzzed and I wasn’t expecting anyone to be driving around the neighborhood so it took me off guard. Their lights flashed right in my eyes and I might have swerved off the road some. And then I turned the corner and there was another car. They honked and I just kind of parked as close to the house as I could get and stumbled inside.”

“You said the lights flashed right in your eyes,” Jack said. “Brights or regular lights?”

“Felt like brights,” he said. “I couldn’t see anything. Blinded me for a second. Thought I was going to take that mailbox out over there.”

“Did you see who was driving?”

“I just told you I couldn’t see anything. At least not in that car.”

“But in the other?” Jack prompted.

“Looked like a woman,” he said. “I think I scared her as much as she scared me. But she drove on.”

“The first car,” Jack said. “You remember what it looked like?”

“Dark,” he said. “Might have been an SUV. But it was a small one if so. Big headlights.”

“Was it going fast or slow?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but then stopped and closed it again. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“Huh,” he said. “I would have said he was going fast, but I don’t think he was. I think I was the one going fast. I think he might have just been sitting there at the corner. Or moving real slow.” He closed his eyes like he was trying to conjure up the scene in his head. “I think that’s why I swerved. It was real dark. That streetlight on the corner over there is out. And the angle the car was sitting made it kind of blend into the darkness. That’s why I was so surprised. It’s like the headlights were all of a sudden right there, so I swerved into that yard over there. Sobered me up for a second. I didn’t need that headache on top of everything else going on in my life right now.”

“Was the car still there when you went inside?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, I think so. Just driving around the park.”

“How long have you lived here?” I asked him.

His gaze shifted to me. “Six months. Been going through a divorce. Had to sell the house to pay off all the credit-card debt she racked up in my name, so I was forced to move in with Mom.”

“You ever see those vehicles in this area before?” I asked him. “Maybe parked in one of the neighbors’ driveways?”

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