The Competition (14 page)

Evan’s house was
a single-story ranch. It was smaller than Caleb’s, but it was nicely maintained, and there were multicolored ice poppies lining the front of the house. Evan’s mother answered the door. She was petite and dressed in a spandex workout outfit that showed off a well-toned body. Her blonde hair was gathered up in a tight ponytail. Her makeup was subtle and flawless. If not for the crow’s-feet and a few laugh lines I’d have thought she was in high school herself. Bailey made the introductions.

She dipped her head. “I’m Mikayla, please come in.” We followed her into the living room, which was sparsely furnished in beige and cream. The room was immaculate. There was very little in the way of ornamentation. No flowers, no framed photos. One silver Nambé-style bowl sat precisely in the center of the coffee table, and two matching beige ceramic lamps on the side tables—that was it. We sat on the couch. Mikayla perched on one of the loungers, feet together, hands on her knees.

“Do you know Logan Jarvis, ma’am?” Bailey asked.

“Yes. He and Evan became friends shortly after we moved here. I heard what they’re saying about him on the news, but from what I know, he’s a lovely boy. Kind of on the shy side, but very sweet.” She gave us a tight “I’m trying to help” smile.

I could tell from that smile alone that we wouldn’t get anything useful from her, and after a few more minutes Bailey came to the same conclusion.

“We’d like to see Evan now, Mrs. Cutter,” Bailey said. “And I hope you don’t mind if we speak to him alone.”

She’d kept her head down, made only sporadic eye contact before, but now she looked up at Bailey with alarm. “He’s not in trouble, is he?”

I shook my head. “No, not at all. It’s just better—less distracting—if we talk privately.”

Mikayla nodded. “I understand. I’ll go get him.”

Evan looked surprised to see us. He gave us a nervous “Hey” and took his mother’s place on the lounger.

“I’d like to go back over the morning of the shooting,” I said. “I’m sorry, I know it’s upsetting, but we don’t want to miss anything.”

He nodded and dipped his head. Just like Mikayla. “Sure. I get it.”

“Did you see Logan the morning of the shooting?” I asked. “I mean, before school.”

He gripped his knees. “Uh, I don’t remember.”

Yes, you do. “Evan, I don’t want to scare you, but it’s a criminal offense to withhold information.”

Evan looked down at his lap and picked at the knee of his jeans. After a few moments, he spoke. “I saw him for, like, a minute. He was in the parking lot, standing by his car.”

“Did you speak to him?”

“Yeah. Just for, like, a second.”

“Who spoke first?” I asked.

“I did. I said, ‘Hey’ and ‘What’s going on?’ and, like, that.” Evan pressed his lips together.

“And what did he say?” Bailey asked.

“Said he was waiting for someone.”

“Did you ask him who he was waiting for?” I asked.

“No. I saw Otis heading over so I took off. He can be kind of a blabber sometimes, and they make you pick up trash around the school if you’re late.”

But that wasn’t the whole story. “What else happened, Evan?”

He pulled at a thread on the arm of the lounger. I saw his Adam’s apple bounce. “I told Logan I had to get to class.” Evan licked his lips with a dry tongue. “He told me I should cut and not come back.” Evan finally made eye contact—a brief apologetic look—then dropped his gaze back to the floor. “I’m sorry. I guess I should’ve told you before. But I knew it would sound bad. And I didn’t want to believe…any of it.”

And he didn’t want to be another brick in the wall of mounting evidence against his friend. “It didn’t sound bad at the time?” I asked.

“No. I just took it as him saying ‘Dude, fuck school.’”

“Did you leave after that?” Evan nodded. “So you didn’t talk to Otis at all?”

“No.”

“Where did you go?” I asked.

“Homeroom.”

I’d get that verified, though I had no doubt it would check out. It was too easy for us to bust a lie like that.

“Did you notice anything in his car?” Bailey asked.

“No, but I wasn’t looking. The whole thing took maybe ten seconds.” He glanced up briefly and gave us another apologetic look. “I really am sorry. I sort of told myself it wasn’t important. But I guess I just didn’t want to be talking bad about a friend.” Evan shook his head. “Stupid, I know.”

Not so much stupid as typically teenage. Or maybe just typical, period. After all, who
does
want to think their friend, son, brother is a mass murderer? “Did Logan ever talk about guns?” I asked.

Evan frowned, then shook his head. “Nothing sticks out in my mind. If the subject came up, he sure didn’t say anything that made me go ‘whoa.’”

“Did you ever see him with guns?” I asked. “Either in person or in photos?”

“Logan? Never. That’s why this whole thing with him is so…bizarre.”

“Can you think of anyone besides Otis who might’ve been in on this with Logan?” I asked. “Anyone else Logan was hanging out with who seemed like trouble?”

Evan frowned. “No. And to tell you the truth, I don’t even really believe Otis was in on it. I know I said he was a loser and all. But after I talked to you guys, I got to thinking about it. Otis was kind of annoying, and he was a weird little dude, but he wasn’t
that
kind of weird.” He went back to picking at the arm of the lounger.

“Did Logan ever talk to you about a girl named Amanda?” I asked.

He looked up at me. “Amanda? Where’d you get that name from?”

“So he didn’t talk to you about her?”

“No.”

“Did he mention any other girls?” Bailey asked.

“What, ever?” Evan looked incredulous. “Yeah. Of course. But not in a ‘love’ way or anything.”

“Did you ever meet Logan’s brother, Luke?” I asked.

“Yeah, once or twice.”

“What was your impression of him?” I asked.

Evan shrugged. “I don’t know. He seemed okay, I guess.”

“When did you last see him?” Bailey asked.

“Not that recently. He and Logan didn’t really hang out. At least not from what I saw.”

“If Logan was looking for a place to hide, where do you think he’d go?” I asked.

“No clue. He’s got cousins in Colorado, I think. But I don’t know where.”

“Was there someplace you two used to hang out when you didn’t want to be in a crowd?” I asked.

“Just his house or mine.”

“Did he ever talk about friends or relatives he was close to? Maybe who lived outside Los Angeles?” I asked. These were all questions for Logan’s parents, and either Bailey and I or a uni would ask them. But given how little Bonnie seemed to know, and how little cooperation we could expect from Brad, I didn’t hold out much hope for those interviews. Evan was my best shot.

Evan shook his head. “Not that he ever told me.”

I’d had the impression he and Logan were closer than what I was hearing. “How long did you say you’ve known Logan?” I asked.

“Since we moved here. About a year ago.”

“You move a lot?” I asked. Evan nodded. “What’s your dad do?”

“Works for an oil company based in Texas.”

We weren’t getting anywhere. And if Evan picked at the thread on that lounger any harder, he’d unravel the whole damn thing. “Okay, thanks, Evan. That’s all we’ve got for now.”

We stood up to go, and Evan jumped to his feet, looking visibly relieved—and a little frightened. Was he just glad to be off the hot seat? Or was it something more? The tattoo was the most incriminating piece of evidence we had so far. But Logan’s warning to Evan that morning was a pretty damning piece of the puzzle too. Was he afraid Logan might remember that and come after him? It was hard to believe Logan would risk coming back to shut him up. But then again, as Bailey said, who knew what these psychos would do?

“Evan, I want you to know that whatever you tell us is going to stay under wraps until we have the suspects in custody.”

Evan nodded, but wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Okay, thanks.”

“Are you worried about…anything?” I asked.

“N-no.” Evan swallowed and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Because if you are—”

“I’m not. Really. It’s just…this is pretty strange. That’s all.”

I didn’t believe him. But I also didn’t think he was in any real danger. And if I kept pressing him, I’d only make him think he had good reason to be scared. We told him we’d be in touch and to contact us if he thought of anything else about Logan or the day of the shooting, then headed for Bailey’s car.

“I’m probably being paranoid, but can we try to get some extra patrol on his house?” I said as I belted up. “Just in case.”

“Yeah.” Bailey pulled out her cell phone. “I can’t believe Logan would come back for him, but the kid did look nervous. And while I’m at it, I’ll see if we’ve heard back from the bank about Logan’s cash flow.”

“What about setting up a visit with the brother…Luke?”

“I’ll check on that too.”

While Bailey made the calls, I revisited the possibility that Logan might come after Evan. Logan had to know that we’d figure out he wasn’t one of the dead bodies in the library and land on him at some point. Evan’s information was good stuff, but it was hardly a smoking gun. On the other hand, I was being rational, thinking like a lawyer. Logan was smart, but rational…not so much. And if there was a second shooter, who knew how unbalanced and paranoid
he
was? Evan didn’t know yet that Otis was dead. But he’d find out soon enough. And when he did, he’d realize he didn’t even know who to look out for. Now that I thought about it, Evan had more reason to be nervous than even he knew.

Bailey ended her call. “Valley Division’s putting extra patrols on Evan’s house starting tonight.”

“Good. And the bank?”

“Logan wiped out his checking account a month and a half ago. Apparently it’d been dwindling steadily for the past year, but he still had about five hundred dollars in it until his last withdrawal.”

“Did it sound like he had enough to pay for the arsenal they had?”

“No. I’m getting copies of the statements so we’ll be able to see exactly what the cash flow was, but from what I heard, I’d say the other kid had to have kicked in his share too.” Bailey wore a grim look.

“So they’ve been building up their cache for, what? A year?”

“Give or take.”

I told her my theory about why Evan seemed to be so nervous.

“Hell, yeah, that makes sense,” she said. “Me, I think the kid could just be feeling guilty about not warning anyone and snitching on a friend. But you’re right. Evan might have good reason to be worried. And remember, he was in that gym too. It didn’t look to me like those shooters were being all that picky about who they fired on. It was just dumb luck he didn’t get killed. So much for his great friendship with Logan.”

I nodded and checked my cell, saw I had a message. I hit play and listened. “That was Sonny Barney. They can meet with us now.”

We were already
in the neighborhood, so it took just five minutes to get there—which meant I had no time to think about what I was going to say.

Sonny and Tom Barney sat together on the couch, their hands intertwined. The fear in their faces was a painful sight. Even worse was the small flicker of hope that still burned beneath it. I looked from one to the other, then forced out the words. “Otis’s body has just been identified as one of the two boys found in the library. I’m so sorry.”

Sonny jerked away from her husband and began to scream. “No! No-no-no-no-no!” Then she dissolved into tears. Tom wrapped his arms around her, buried his face in her hair, and began to sob.

I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes. I willed them back and tried to swallow the lump in my throat so I could offer words of comfort, but the words wouldn’t come.

Finally, Sonny lifted her head. She spoke with a tear-choked voice. “But then Otis couldn’t have been involved, could he? We told you! We told you!” She lapsed into sobs again, as she wrapped her arms around her torso and rocked back and forth.

Tom, picking up on our silence, looked from me to Bailey. “You can’t still believe…”

I took a deep breath. I’d almost dreaded this more than the death notification. “We don’t know. It’s still possible he was involved. But I promise you, Mr. Barney, if we can clear him, we will.”

Tom clenched his jaw. I watched his face as anger battled with grief. Grief lost. His voice was harsh and low. “It was crazy to call Otis a suspect in the first place, but now? It’s not just wrong, it’s downright cruel. I’m calling the DA! And the chief! You’re incompetent…you—you monsters!” He stood up and pointed to the door. “Now get out! Get the hell out of my house!”

When we reached Bailey’s car, I saw that her face looked drawn. I was sure mine looked no better, but I offered anyway, “Hey, how about you let me drive for a change?” If she said yes, it’d be a first.

“I feel like shit, but I don’t have a death wish, Knight.”

So she wasn’t completely wrecked. But I felt pretty lousy too. I knew there was only one thing that would make us feel better. “What’s the story with Luke Jarvis? Is he in pocket?”

“Yep. He’s at work. Gets off at six.”

“If we launch from here we can make it to Oxnard in an hour.”

“Let’s hit it.”

Work: the great healer. Well, the great distraction.

We pulled up
just after six o’clock. Night had already squeezed all but a sliver of sunlight from the sky. I don’t know why I had the idea Luke worked at an ordinary gas station. It was actually a high-end auto-repair shop. The kind of place Jay Leno would go to have his Maseratis or Model Ts fixed. At the counter in the tiny office at the end of the repair bays sat a completely bald man whose coveralls looked like they’d been handed down by his much bigger father. The name Alfred Bedigian was stitched above the pocket on his left chest. A magazine lay open on his lap. I got a glimpse of a pouty, large-breasted blonde before he slapped it closed and stuffed it under the counter.

Bailey flashed her badge. “Mr. Bedigian?”

His eyes got big when he saw the badge, and he jumped up out of his chair. “Yes?”

I could see a smile twitching at Bailey’s lips. “We’re here to see Luke Jarvis.”

“I already gave his time card to those other cops. They told me it was just routine. Was that wrong? Is Luke in trouble?”

We’d had Luke checked out the moment Logan was identified as one of the shooters. Luke had been at work—confirmed not only by his time card but also by a couple of customers who’d come in on the day of the shooting.

“Not at all,” Bailey said. “We just want to talk to him about someone he knows.”

“Because if he is, I need to know about it,” he said. “He’s a great mechanic, but we don’t run that kind of place. He’s got problems, he’s out of here.”

“Really, Mr. Bedigian,” I said, “he’s done nothing wrong.”

He gave me a skeptical look. “Better not,” he muttered. “Come.”

Bedigian trotted around the counter and gestured for us to follow, the dirty rag stuffed into his back pocket wagging like a tail with every step. He stopped abruptly at the last bay, where a midnight-blue Porsche sat three feet up on the lift. Unless Luke was hiding in the trunk, there was no one there.

“Could he have left for the day?” I asked.

“Not without telling me.” Bedigian said. He took the rag out of his pocket and nervously wiped his hands.

A tallish man with short dirty-blonde hair walked into the bay, pulling on a fleece-lined denim jacket.

“Luke Jarvis?” Bailey asked.

“That’s me,” he said. He favored us with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. He looked like a younger version of Treat Williams—handsome in a regular-guy kind of way.

Instead of badging him, Bailey put out her hand. “I’m Detective Bailey Keller and this is Deputy District Attorney Rachel Knight. We need to talk to you.”

Luke’s smile fell away. “Right.”

“Do you have a place we can go to talk?” Bailey asked.

Luke glanced around the bay. “Uh…”

Bedigian interrupted. “Use the office. It’s time to close up anyway.” He cast a glance across the three of us that was still mildly suspicious and told Luke, “Lock the door when you leave.” Luke nodded, and Bedigian trotted out.

Five minutes later, we sat down in the small waiting area in the office. Bailey took the lead. “I guess you’ve heard Logan’s been named as a person of interest in the Fairmont High shooting.”

Luke nodded, and looked from me to Bailey anxiously. “Have you found him?”

“No,” Bailey said. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, but Logan’s not just a person of interest. We’re fairly certain he was involved in the shooting.”

Luke sat back as though he’d been punched in the chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but for a few seconds nothing came out. “What—how do you know?”

Bailey told him what we’d learned so far. Ordinarily, she might not have been so forthcoming. Even though we knew Luke couldn’t have been the second shooter, he still might’ve provided some outside help. But there was no indication the brothers had spent any time together in the past few months. No one in Oxnard had seen Logan around, and no one in the Valley had seen Luke hanging out with his brother. We’d had unis track down all the checks Logan had written in the past year and go through the records of all the local auto parts stores. Logan’s dwindling bank account showed he’d been spending money all right, just not on his car. So Bonnie’s belief that they’d been refurbishing Logan’s car together had proven to be wishful thinking. The brothers hadn’t been in contact on any kind of regular basis in some time.

When Bailey finished, Luke stared out the window. Tears welled up, and he angrily swiped them away with his sleeve. “I just don’t get it,” he said. “Why would he do that? He was never,
never
someone who’d do anything to hurt anyone.”

Bailey shook her head. “We might never have the whole answer to that.” The expression on Luke’s face was heart-wrenching. She gave him a few more seconds to regroup, then continued. “I understand you enlisted in the Army when he was in fifth or sixth grade?”

Luke nodded. “Yeah. Had to. I was screwing up all over the place. Flunking out at Cal State Northridge, drinking, drugging. My folks finally kicked me out of the house—rightly so. The Army was my last shot to pull my head out of my ass. I can’t say I loved it, but it did the trick. And that’s where I found out I loved working on engines. From there, everything in my life just kind of fell into place.”

“How old was Logan when you got out?” Bailey asked.

“Let’s see, by the time I got back…I think Logan had just finished his freshman year.”

“Did you move back home?” I asked.

“Only long enough to find a place. I had a buddy from the service who was willing to share rent. So I moved out as soon as I landed a job at a gas station. Got a two-bedroom in Tarzana.”

“That’s pretty close to your folks,” I said. “Did you and Logan get to see a lot of each other?”

“In the beginning. Logan wasn’t driving, but I was just a short bus ride away. So we’d hang out a couple of times a week, but then…” Luke sighed. “Shane—that’s my buddy from the Army—turned out to be a great trench mate but a lousy roommate. He was into everything I joined the Army to escape. Booze, drugs, the wrong kind of women.” Luke shook his head, a disgusted expression on his face. “I’d come home from work and find the place just totally trashed, smelling like pot, and all these sketchy losers hanging around.”

“Shane didn’t work?” I asked.

“He’d work. And then he’d get fired. And then I’d get on his case about kicking in his share of the rent and he’d get hired again. No job ever lasted more than a couple of months.”

“How did Shane get along with Logan?” I asked.

Luke grimaced. “Total bromance. At least on Logan’s part. He started coming over just to see Shane. Shane was the cool guy Logan always wanted to be. Shane had tatts, he drove hot cars, and he was a babe magnet. Going to a party with Shane was like being the Invisible Man. Women you wouldn’t think would even spit on him would slide off their chairs.” His face reddened. “Sorry!”

I shook my head. “I get it. Was Shane into guns?”

“Oh, yeah.” Luke stopped and stared at me as the implications sank in. “And I’d bet he still is. I know he worked at a gun range for a while. I think he still helps out there now and then. But they didn’t give him enough hours to pay the rent, so he had to get a real job.”

“How good is he with guns?” Bailey asked. “Does he reload his own ammo? Can he repair them, alter them?”

“Yes. To all of the above. But I found out the hard way you have to watch out for his reloads. We used to go shooting together, and one time I guess he accidentally packed a double shot in one of my rounds. Thing had so much firepower it almost blew my hand off.”

“I take it you guys don’t see much of each other anymore?” Bailey asked.

Luke shook his head. “I had to get away from him. Too much temptation. That’s why I moved up here. I told him I had a job offer I couldn’t afford to turn down.”

“Did you?” I asked.

“No. I wound up sleeping in my car for a couple of months. But then I got a break. I came here looking for a job on the same day one of the guys gave notice.”

“Did you lose contact with Shane after you moved up here?” I asked.

“Pretty much. I let him keep the apartment in Tarzana for the rest of the month just to make sure he wouldn’t try and follow me here. But we stayed in touch for a little while. I didn’t want him as a full-time friend, but I didn’t want to dump him. We went through a lot together, being in the service and all.” Luke stopped and sighed. “At least, that’s what I wanted. But Shane couldn’t leave it like that. About a week after I landed this job, he said he was thinking about coming up here. Started talking about getting a place together again. That’s when I realized there was no halfway with Shane, so I stopped taking his calls. He still leaves me voice mails now and then, but I know better than to reopen that door.”

“Is it possible that Logan kept seeing Shane after you left?” I asked.

“I guess. He never mentioned it, but like I said, Logan had a real boy-crush on him.” Luke briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them, they looked pained and bewildered. The revelation about his brother was only just starting to sink in. It would probably take a while before he could really wrap his brain around the fact that his little brother was a mass murderer. If, in fact, he ever could.

“Would Shane have come by your parents’ place to see Logan?” I asked.

Luke shook his head slowly. “Doubtful. They only saw Shane a couple of times, but it was enough for them to get his drift. They didn’t care for him. I have to believe that if Mom knew Logan was hanging around with Shane, she would’ve done her best to shut it down.”

But as we’d already learned, there was a lot Mom didn’t know.

“Do you know where Shane is now?” I asked.

“Last I heard from him, he was working for a tree service up in Camarillo. I think the gun range is around there too.”

“Do you happen to know the names of those places?” Bailey asked.

Luke turned to stare out the window again, then looked at us apologetically. “Sorry, no. I’m sure he told me, but I don’t remember. I didn’t really want to know.”

But he did know Shane’s last name.