Page 61 of The Catcher
She never answered. “I thought you were better than this.”
He narrowed his eyes.
Natalie squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Look, I get it, you’re pissed. I would be. But you have to understand my father doesn’t have time for petty rivalries. So stop pointing the finger at him! I wish I had answers for you, but I don’t. So unless you have anything else to say, please leave before I call the cops.”
He laughed. “Is that meant to be a joke?”
She shook her head, looking disappointed, before heading back inside.
Noah’s waterfronthome stood silent against the darkened night’s backdrop. Inside, the soft glow of lamplight illuminated his face as he dug through the box he’d received earlier. With the files spread across the floor, he took a swig from a bottle of beer, his eyes scanningthrough the material. It was an overwhelming amount of information, enough to keep him occupied for weeks.
Clad in jeans, a white T-shirt, and a grey cardigan, Noah made notes as he delved into the case details. One name stood out to him: Thomas O’Connell, the investigator assigned to the case. Curiosity piqued, Noah turned to the internet for more information about O’Connell. Despite it being before his time, he managed to find a few articles but no photographs.
Determined to learn more, Noah called the department, hoping to obtain any contact details O’Connell might have left before retiring. A colleague assured him they would get back to him, leaving Noah to continue his investigation.
Taking another swig of beer, Noah was interrupted by a knock at the door. He answered it to find McKenzie standing there.
“McKenzie. Things good?” Noah greeted him.
McKenzie exhaled. “Been better, been worse. Can I come in?”
“Sure,” Noah said, stepping aside to let him enter. McKenzie surveyed the papers scattered across the countertops and floor as he entered the living room.
“Some light reading?” McKenzie joked.
“You know I like to unwind with the classics,” Noah shot back, a smile forming before he hurried around, scooping up papers to clear a space for him to sit.
McKenzie settled into a seat amidst the scattered files, and Noah grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, handing one to his unexpected visitor.
“So, what brings you by this late?” Noah asked, sitting across from McKenzie, ready to catch up and gain some perspective on the case.
“You caught the news?”
“Nah, I’ve never been one for celebrity gossip.”
McKenzie grinned before it faded. “They got him, Noah. At least Terry Braithwaite thinks so. Joe Mitchell, the high school janitor. We raided his home today after his print was found at the scene of the Banning boy. They ran it through CODIS and got a hit. The guy has a record. On top of that, they were able to triangulate what they believe was Hailey Matthews’ cell phone. Sure enough, when we arrived, a phone was found at his property, along with over 100 photos and 20 videos of underage girls. He’d created a fake profile on a social media account to groom girls and get them to send him nudes and their addresses. A couple he tried to meet in person. Fortunately, those meetups failed.”
“Catfishing?” Noah asked.
“That’s what they call it. Also, that size 12 print found near Pete Landry matches one of Joe’s work boots. A hair follicle extracted from the Matthews girl’s clothing appears to be Joe’s too. On the surface, it makes sense. He saw the teens on a daily basis, and he had access to lockers, the drawer with Landry’s phone, and the swimming pool.”
Noah nodded, studying him. “Sounds like a slam dunk.”
“Yep,” McKenzie said.
“So why the sour face?”
“Because I don’t think it’s him.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Noah’s mouth. He was curious to see why. He had his theory, but he wanted to learn McKenzie’s. “How so?”
“Beyond the obvious. Mitchell doesn’t strike me as a smart man. At least not the kind to go to all the trouble of creating those riddles and geocaches.”
“Can’t judge a book by its cover.”
“See, that’s the thing. I think we can on this one.”
“All right. Let’s hear it.”
