Wedding Bell Blues (28 page)

Well, that wasn't going to happen. At least, not if I had
anything
to say about it. As far as I was concerned, nothing was more important
the next few days than keeping Maryanne calm and happy. An angry bride
I did not need in my life, especially not when an angry bride also
meant a very angry mother.

Particularly when it meant that very angry mother was my
mother as well as the bride's.

So, when I opened the door and saw Colton's grim expression, I
knew
I'd have my work cut out for me. At least he had the sense to smile in
greeting and try to act as if nothing were the matter when Maryanne
stepped up beside me. God, I hoped she hadn't seen his concern.

Right. And maybe I wouldn't have to wear the maid-of-honor
dress she'd chosen for me.

Wait! What was I thinking? It could be worse. She could have
gone
along with Mr. Henri's latest brainstorm. Talk about having to choose
between the lesser of two evils - the harlequin dress or the
Wizard of Oz
. At
least I was too tall to be a munchkin.

"You ready?" Colton asked.

"I just need to grab my purse." Which was, fortunately,
resting on the hall table just a few feet away

"You'll be back in time for dinner, won't you?" Maryanne's
voice was soft, her expression worried.

"Of course we will, Tink. We wouldn't miss it for the world."
I
smiled and gave her cheek a quick kiss. "I promise." Then, just to be
sure he didn't say anything that might be construed as a contradiction,
I shot Colton a quick, fulminating look. He frowned slightly but nodded
in agreement. Thankfully.

"Jessie, please be back in time for dinner." She grabbed my
hand and held on like she might never let go.

"Maryanne, I promise we'll be here. Nothing can keep us away
from this or the rest of the wedding activities. Right, Colton?"

"Err, right."

"But the sooner we get out of here, the sooner we'll be back."
I
nodded to where she still held my hand in a death grip and she
reluctantly let go. "Tell Mom we'll be back as soon as we can."

Before anything more could be said, I stepped outside and
started
down the walk, Colton on my heels. Despite my reassurances to the
contrary, I wasn't convinced we'd be back in time for dinner. Not when
Colton looked so serious, and not when he failed to make even a lame
effort at teasing my sister. Something was wrong. I knew it. Just as I
knew better than to demand an explanation just then. Better to wait
until we were in the car and away from the house.

"All right, Colton, what gives?" I asked as we drove away from
the house.

He didn't answer right away - never a good sign. Instead, his
fingers tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles shown white.
Something was definitely wrong, and he was trying to decide whether to
tell me now or wait. Wonderful.

"Colton?" I prompted when he didn't say anything.

"Jess, not now. I'll explain when we get to the station."

That was not what I wanted to hear, and my stomach did a slow
roll. "Just tell me this. Am I in any sort of trouble?"

"What?" Surprised, he glanced over at me for one quick moment
before
returning his attention to the road. "No, of course you're not in any
trouble. It's just that I'm still trying to work it all out in my mind
and don't want to do or say anything that might influence you later.
We're already walking a very thin line."

"Are you in trouble?" If someone had told his superiors that I
was
staying with him, he could be reprimanded - worse if they knew we were
sleeping together.

"No, and I want to keep it that way."

So something had happened, whether he wanted to tell me or
not.
Well, I could be patient. I'd wait until we got to the station to find
out why he'd come for me. I'd even wait until we got home to find out
what he meant by his last statement. But I would find out, and the
sooner he accepted that fact, the better for both of us.

Twenty minutes later, Colton escorted me through security and
upstairs to his office. We paused at his desk long enough for him to
grab a couple of files. Then he led me into a room off the main squad
room. As he closed the door behind us, I looked around, suddenly
uneasy. This room looked eerily like the interrogation rooms on TV.

Swallowing
hard, I pulled out one of the ancient metal chairs and sat at the
table. My heart beat a little faster, and I was suddenly cold, as if
all the warmth had been leeched from the room. Had Colton lied to me?
Had he brought me here because he now thought I had something to do
with the fire? Or worse, did he think I'd been involved with Manny's
murder?

"Colton?"

He looked up from where he'd been arranging his notes, and his
expression changed. No longer was it closed, cold. Concern seemed to
war with frustration and, somehow, I knew it was frustration with
himself, with the way he was handling this and not with me. That
knowledge made me feel a little better, but not much. Nothing would
make me feel much better until I knew exactly why he'd brought me here.

"Jessie, I'm sorry. I'm so wrapped up with this that I didn't
think." I could tell he wanted to reach out and take my hand but didn't
dare. Not when we could be interrupted at any moment. "I want to go
over some things about the case with you, have you look at some photos.
We're in here so we can spread out and won't be distracted by the
others in the squad.

"Also, Detective Davalos will be joining us shortly. She asked
to
have the chance to talk with you, to tell you what she's found out so
far."

The fear that had formed a cold knot in my stomach slowly
unwound.
Everything he said made sense. So I nodded and looked around, curious
now about my surroundings.

"It really does look like the TV shows," I commented and
smiled as he chuckled softly.

"It's probably the one thing they do get right. Are you ready
to get started?"

"Yes. The sooner we do, the sooner I can get back to my
parents' and
help Maryanne get ready for tonight's dinner party." I'd been careful
not to mention the fact he was to be there as well, in case someone was
observing, but the look I sent him spoke volumes and he nodded slightly
in response. Good. Unless something unforeseen came up, he'd be there
as well.

With that settled, Colton was finally ready to tell me why I
happened to be sitting in an interrogation room at the police station
instead of helping Maryanne get ready for the night's festivities.

"After talking with you this morning, I paid a visit to the
assistant DA assigned the case. She agreed we needed to have a look at
the parking records for the school. So I paid a visit to your
principal."

Oh boy, no wonder he was so grim. Mamie Peterson is formidable
at
the best of times, always so convinced that she's right and the rest of
the world is wrong. To find a police detective in her office would have
put her in the worst mood possible, especially after discovering he
wanted to have a look at student records. As far as she's concerned,
none of our students can do any wrong. She's also of the opinion that
we shouldn't flunk anyone because that might damage their psyche. Of
course, she also believes if there's one student struggling with a
lesson, none of the others should receive high grades for their work,
even if they deserve the grade, because you can't punish a student for
not being as gifted as his classmates. She is, to be blunt about it,
full of crap.

"I'm sure she greeted you with open arms." I grinned,
imagining just
that. Of course, her arms might be open, but she had knives and guns in
her hands, all aimed at Colton and anyone who happened to be with him.

"You could say that." Now he grinned. "When I explained why we
were
there, she refused to give us access to the student parking records.
Kept spouting off about the privacy laws and such. I simply reminded
her that we could very easily go out onto the parking lot and take
photos of every car there and then run them against DMV. Who knew how
many outstanding tickets, warrants and the like we might find then. I
was also more than ready to go get a warrant and had, in fact, already
discussed the matter with the ADA. Of course, if she forced me to take
that route, the media was sure to find out, and wouldn't the parents of
her students wonder what she was allowing to happen on campus?"

I clapped my hands and grinned like a loon as I pictured the
scene.
Mamie Peterson must have about died right then and there. No principal
wants media attention for anything not related to sports or academic
excellence. To have the media speculating on why a homicide
investigation was centering on students at the school…well, that would
be more than her job was worth.

"And?" I prompted.

"With much protestation and after a call to the school
district's
attorney, she agreed to let us look at last year's and this year's
parking permit list. Three of us spent the morning going through it,
trying to narrow it down to vehicles matching the description you gave."

"Did you find one?"

"Before I answer, I want you to take a look at something for
me." He
pulled his laptop from his briefcase and opened it. While it booted up,
he moved around the table to sit at my side. "I'm going to show you
some images of different SUVs and I want you to try to pick out the one
you saw. Okay?"

"Are these actual student vehicles?"

"No. This is to try to narrow down the make and model some."
He
typed something on the keyboard and waited. Then, with a nod of his
head, he turned the laptop so I could see the screen. "Take a look and
see if any of these match the one you saw at Manny's Saturday."

On the screen were six different SUVs. All black and all about
the
same age and size as the one I'd seen. As I studied them, feeling more
pressure to pick the right one than I'd ever felt before, I wished I'd
paid more attention growing up when my father tried to impart his love
of cars to me. But I hadn't. Now, put a Mustang in front of me and I
could tell you everything about it. That's because a Mustang isn't just
any car. As far as I'm concerned, it is THE American car. SUVs, on the
other hand, are just boxes with wheels that like to guzzle gas.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, doing my best to bring the
image
of that SUV to mind. There had to be something about it that would
differentiate it from the others. The problem was, the photos Colton
had me looking at were of the fronts of the vehicles. Now that I
thought about it, I didn't see the front of the vehicle, only the back
and side.

"Colton, is there any way I can see another angle of these?
Maybe see the hatch and side?"

"Sure. All you need to do is click on the image and use the
touch
pad to drag it in the direction you want." He put actions to words and
showed me by rotating the first image.

I followed his instructions and carefully manipulated each of
the
images. Two were almost instantly discarded when the hatches on the
rear didn't come close to matching what I remembered. The others were
more difficult.

Finally, with my choices narrowed down to two, I
couldn't do any more. Frustrated, worried it wouldn't be enough, I
pushed back from the table and climbed to my feet. It felt as if I'd
been sitting there for hours. I knew I hadn't, that it was stress
making it seem that way. But that didn't ease the headache building
just behind my eyes, or the fear in the pit of my stomach that I'd made
a mistake and chosen the wrong pictures.

"I'm sorry. It's one of these two, but I'm not sure which.
They are just too much alike."

"No, Jess. You did good. Really."

He smiled and I relaxed a
bit. At least he no longer looked so worried. Maybe I'd actually
managed to pick the right one. Still, wouldn't it have been better if I
could have narrowed it down to one?

Stop it. He said you did
good, so believe him.

As I paced the room, wondering how anyone could sit in there
and not
feel intimidated by the bright light overhead, the bare white walls
with the large mirror - which I assumed was two-way and allowed anyone
on the other side to look in, just like they did on TV - and the
Spartan furnishings, I kept telling myself that I had done the best I
could. Colton seemed satisfied, so I should be as well. The way he made
notes in his file before shutting down his laptop at least made it seem
he was excited about something. If only he'd tell me something,
anything, that might help reassure me we were finally making progress
with the investigation.

"Jess, sit back down. I want to go over some names with you,
see if
you recognize any of them," he said as I started yet another circuit of
the room. "Would you like a cup of coffee or something first?"

"No. Let's just get it over with."

He nodded and waited until I returned to my seat. Then he
produced a
sheet of paper with a list of names and vehicle information on it. It
wasn't hard to guess it was the list of parking permits for vehicles
similar to the ones I'd pointed out. A moment later, that guess was
confirmed.

One by one, he read me the names, wanting to know if I knew
this
person or that, what I could tell him about them. I don't know what
surprised me the most - the number of names on the list or how many of
the names I was familiar with. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending
on your point of view, I knew most of those he named. Some I knew
better than others because I'd had them in class. But none of them
stood out until he neared the end of the list and named yet another
student, this one a senior.

"Joseph Walters?" he asked and then looked up when I didn't
answer right away.

Joey.

The moment Colton said his name, I leaned back, shaking
my head in disbelief. I felt like I'd been sucker-punched. I not only
knew Joey, but I liked him. He might not be the best student I had, but
he didn't try to use his role on the football team for special
treatment - at least not with me. There was no way he could, or would,
be involved in all that had happened.