Page 18 of Midnight Secrets

“Ma’am, may I have your name, please? And before you say no, it would be in your best interest to cooperate.”

There was a short huff. “Bethany Cable.”

“Thank you.” I added her name to my notepad. “Why has your child been skipping Mrs. Hammond’s class?”

She stayed silent.

I held back a sigh. Some people needed some extra encouragement. “Ms. Cable, I am not here to get you or your child in trouble. I just want to rule your family out as suspects in her death.”

“Suspects? Because Misha skipped class a few times? He was just helping his nana.” The woman let out a soft groan of frustration. “My husband and I have had to pick up some extra work shifts lately. Grocery prices…” She trailed off, blowing out a breath before continuing. “Anyway, my mother isn’t in the best of health, and she can’t drive. Misha’s been leaving school to take her to her dialysis appointments.”

Mrs. Byron gasped. “Oh my. Why didn’t you say something? We have resources?—”

“Because it’s no one’s problem but ours. We don’t need or want your help.”

“It is our business, because Misha’s missing school,” Mrs. Byron said.

“He’s fine. It’s his senior year. And what’s he going to use history for? He’ll be a mechanic when he graduates. He only took the class because he needed an elective credit.”

Mrs. Byron opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. “Ms. Cable, Mrs. Byron tells me you’ve been refusing to respond to calls and messages about your son missing school. Has anything beyond that occurred?”

“Like what?”

“Contact with Mrs. Hammond in other ways.”

“Oh. No. I just delete all her emails as soon as I read them. And send her voicemails to the trash. We tried to tell her he had a good reason. She wouldn’t listen. So we stopped listening to her.”

I met Mrs. Byron’s gaze and shook my head. While I understood the family’s need to keep sensitive medical information private, a little explanation could have gone a long way.

But that was Mrs. Byron’s problem to deal with, not mine. “You haven’t talked to Mrs. Hammond beyond that?”

“No.”

“What about your son?”

“I doubt it.”

“Do I have your permission to speak to him?”

“No. He’s still a minor, so you need me or my husband there to interview him. Even if I wanted to do that, I’m not leaving work. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to that.” She hung up without waiting for a response.

I pressed my lips in a flat line. “Well, at least you got an answer to your problem.”

Features tight, she nodded.

“Could you call Ms. Alonso and Ms. Strand to the office so I can talk to them, please?”

“It’ll have to be one at a time. I’m the only one available to cover their classes.” She pushed away from the desk. “You can stay here. I’ll send Grace in momentarily.”

“Thank you.”

With a nod, she left.

While I waited, I sent a message to one of the county social workers, asking about transportation for elderly patients. The Cables might not accept help from the school, but maybe they’d take it from a different source.

A quiet knock on the open door had me looking over my shoulder. A dark-haired woman in her mid- to late thirties entered, offering me a soft smile.

I stood, greeting her. “Hello. I’m Detective Quartermaine. You must be Grace.”

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