Page 63 of The Bright Lands
Bethany Tanner burst from the front door of the school, her blond hair flying. “Stop!” she shouted. “He was with me!”
“That’s enough, darling,” said Mr. Boone sharply.
“But it’s true!” Bethany shouted. Clark saw faces in the classroom windows watching them, saw sashes sliding up so the folks inside could listen. Bethany repeated, “Jamal was with me all weekend!”
“Mayfield, what the fuck is this?” asked Clark. “Why didn’t you call me?”
Without a word, Mayfield tossed her the bag in his hand.
It was an evidence bag, she saw. Her first thought was of protocol: why was there evidence floating out here in the wild and not locked up, logged and tagged, in the station? Then she saw what was inside.
A sock, so stained with blood Clark thought at first the fabric had been brown when it was bought. Only the upper hem of the sock remained white. Written along the hem in black marker were the initials DW.
JOEL
He’d fallen asleep—no, that wasn’t the word for it, in sleep you gotrest—sitting in a stiff chair in his old bedroom. He awoke to the sound of his phone ringing. His back hurt and his neck hurt and his nose was filled with the smell of clay, blood, decay.
“Joel,” Clark said when he answered the phone. “They’ve arrested Jamal.”
Joel struggled to his feet. His body was weak, his mind sluggish. “What? How?”
“Reynolds’s Explorer has had alternator trouble. It’s been in the shop since Monday. Early this morning one of the mechanics started to clean it as a courtesy for keeping the car so long and they found a bloody sock wedged in the fold of the back seat.” Clark hesitated. “It had your brother’s initials.”
Clark had told him last night that Dylan’s body had been found without a shirt or socks. It didn’t matter. Joel tasted bullshit.
“One sock? It’s just been sitting there this entire time?”
“Exactly. They were in such a rush to arrest the kid they didn’t even bother to log the evidence at the station before they cuffed him. They’re only now typing the arrest warrant. It’s fucked, Joel. It’s fucked.”
Joel fumbled with his bottle of Adderall, fished out a pill and chewed it. He’d never taken one this early but he knew a cup of coffee could do nothing to fight the fog that still floated in his head. After a second’s hesitation he chewed another.
“A wound like Dylan’s must have drained blood for ages, right?” Joel said. “If Jamal transported the body in the back of his car, would he even be able to clean it all up?”
“That much blood would have got into the carpet’s padding. A car in a hot mechanic’s bay would have started to stink something awful. They’d have noticed it days ago.”
“And why the hell would he take off a dead person’s socks? It’s the perfect piece of evidence to incriminate you.”
Clark whistled. “Exactly. Portable. Blood soaked. Easily identifiable. Whoever was smart enough to unlock Dylan’s phone with his thumb on the night of the murder planning to contact you the next day...is it a stretch to think that same person would have taken the bloody socks off the boy’s corpse in the hopes of pinning the murder on someone?”
Joel paced his room. “I take it this hasn’t been a topic of conversation at the station.”
Clark hesitated. “Mayfield says Jamal must have been in a hurry, panicked and realized he had the sock still in his possession after he dumped the body so he stuffed it in the seat and forgot it. But shit, Joel—why would he even leave it in his car at all? Why not burn the fucking thing?”
Joel wished the Adderall would hurry up and kick in. “Who’s this mechanic?”
“Alan Sparks owns the place, he’s alright. But the kid who found the sock is named Waley Cabe—he’s got a sheet of priors as long as my arm. He just got let out for assault a few months back.”
“Maybe I should pay him a visit.”
“I wouldn’t recommend it. If Cabe’s doing somebody’s dirty work you might just make more trouble for yourself. And it gets worse.” Clark sighed. “Bethany Tanner came running to stop us this morning, screaming her story for the whole school to hear, not that the men paid her any mind. I just spoke with her father about it and he told me she’s delusional or else covering up for her friend Jamal. When I asked him about the cameras on his property he said the security footage is only saved for three days because he don’t want to pay extra. He’s just trying to keep her nose out of things, I’m sure of it.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Joel said, his fingers tapping on his knee. “And even ifhedoesn’t have it, is it possible the security company keeps it on their servers for a few weeks?”
“I was thinking the same thing. Maybe I can get Mr. Boone to subpoena them. If we can place Jamal at the house all weekend...” She broke off, sounding dubious. “I’m going to put out a new APB on KT Staler’s Tacoma. I might add a few shades of green to the description and see what happens.”
“Can you talk to Jamal yourself? Privately? Maybe he knows something about KT and Dylan that he wanted to keep quiet before. I doubt Jamal would be willing to cover up dirt for KT much longer now that the kid’s story’s gotten him arrested.”
There was a long silence. When Clark came back on her voice was lower. “Sorry, I thought someone was coming in the women’s toilet. I’ll work on Jamal as long as they don’t make the kid confess. What about you?”
