Page 88 of Vanish From Sight
“What you got there?” McKenzie asked.
He dangled the necklace and ring. “It belonged to Lena.”
He expected the Scotsman to crack a joke, whip out a smart-ass remark but he didn’t. Even he knew where to draw the line. Noah pocketed the necklace and was about to leave when Callie called out. “Noah.”
He cast a glance over his shoulder. She held up a photo frame. He squinted and strolled toward her. “Seems Nate Sawyer isn’t the only one that’s been lying.”
The photo was of three people out on a fishing boat. One of them was holding up a giant catfish, the other a fishing rod. Thomas Green was among the group, all smiles and celebratory. “Sonofabitch! Savannah was right.”
He charged out of the house with the photo but not before smashing it against the door frame and pulling out the picture.
“I’ll go with you,” Callie said. “Hold up.”
“I guess I’ll just stay here and see what I can find,” McKenzie muttered. Noah dashed back to his Bronco and jumped behind the wheel. With a screech of tires, he careened onto the dirt road leading back to the town.
The speedometer crept higher as Noah navigated the treacherous turns and bends, each one causing the vehicle to sway dangerously from side to side. Callie clung to the side of the door, telling him to slow down, but Noah was too furious to listen.
The Bronco hurtled down the road, and Noah felt his blood boil. He could feel the tension in his muscles as he gripped the wheel tight, white-knuckling it in frustration.
Finally, they screeched into the parking lot of the Sheriff’s Office, and Noah jumped out, his heart racing.
“He’s not going anywhere, Noah.”
“Damn sure about that.”
He burst into the building, demanding to have Thomas pulled from his jail cell. The correction officer in charge was taken aback at the request, certainly hesitant as he tried to make sense of the whirlwind before him. Following in his shadow, Callie was able to bring clarity to the situation while Noah paced, trying to calm himself.
They waited in a small interview room for an officer to collect the suspect.
The room was brightly lit, with a single fluorescent light flickering above them. The walls were a dull beige, and the onlyfurniture was a small metal table and two chairs. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and Noah could feel his impatience mounting with every passing second.
He glanced up at the clock.
It took close to fifteen minutes before Thomas appeared.
Finally, the door opened and the correction officer escorted the suspect in. Thomas looked disheveled and tired, his orange jumpsuit a stark contrast to the drab walls of the room. He eyeballed them both before slumping down on a chair across from Noah. Callie stayed off to one side of the room.
“Am I getting out?” he asked.
Noah wasted no time getting started.
“Is there anything about your statement you want to change?”
He frowned, his gaze bouncing between them, confusion spreading. “I told you everything.”
“Everything?”
Thomas shrugged. “Am I missing something here?”
“I don’t know. You tell me?”
“I was straightforward with you all.”
Noah dipped his chin and snorted, then lifted his eyes. “Thomas, you’ve been lying to us. About the dogs. About your involvement with them. Haven’t you?”
Thomas looked confused. “I’m lost. What?”
His anxiety only seemed to intensify. He struggled to keep eye contact with them, as his gaze flickered away whenever they bounced it back to him.
