The Push Page 9

  “On what basis did the coroner decide this was a homicide instead of an accident?” Mr. Allister asked, genuine curiosity lacing his voice.

  “I can’t disclose that information at this time,” Lane said, honestly.

  “I find that completely unacceptable!” Mr. Allister blustered. “We came here in good faith. You could at least extend to us the same courtesy.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just not at liberty to do so at this time.” Lane smiled smartly. “Besides, I had planned on speaking with Brent later today. So, this was actually quite fortuitous.” She turned her eyes back to Brent. “I happened to notice an exchange between you and your friends. Lucas and Gabe? At the ranger’s station yesterday?” Lane glanced back over to his grandfather. “Brent seemed to want to have a word with Deputy Pickens here. However, he was greatly discouraged by your presence.” She flipped over a page on her notepad. “You weren’t wanting to confess to anything were you, Brent?”

  “Brent. Don’t answer that.” Mr. Allister pushed the coffee mug back and faced his grandson. “This is exactly why I didn’t want you to say anything. See how they are already twisting things?”

  “Mr. Allister, with all due respect. It’s a simple question.”

  “No, Sheriff. It’s not simply a question. It’s an allegation!” Mr. Allister fired back. Lane could see he was use to theatrics in the courtroom.

  “If he doesn’t want to answer. I have to ask myself, why? Is it because Brent didn’t want anyone to see him?” Lane turned up the heat.

  “We came here in hopes of helping you—,” Mr. Allister started, his face reddening.

  “It’s an easy question.” Lane leaned towards him, her face grave and her palms flat on the table. “Brent! Did anyone see you going up or down The Mole Hill?” Lane asked sternly, her eyes intent on his and giving the table a slam. She could do theatrics too.

  “Don’t answer that question!”

  Brent looked between the sheriff and his grandfather, trying to decide on what to say…or not to say. He shook his head, making up his mind.

  “Yes, ma’am. I did.”

  “Damn it, boy!” Mr. Allister stood up. “What good am I to you, if you won’t listen to me?”

  “Sorry, Gramps.” Brent looked to his grandfather, his face flushed with embarrassment and confusion. “I’m just wanting to be honest.”

  “Not saying anything isn’t being dishonest, Brent. It’s your right to not self-incriminate,” Mr. Allister said sharply, shooting a hard look at Lane. “You don’t know how things can get turned around and how quickly it can happen.”

  “No one is trying to entrap anybody here, Mr. Allister. We’re just looking for an honest answer as to what happened to Janie. Isn’t that what we all want? To find out what happened to Janie?” Lane decided to play on Brent’s heartstrings. He appeared to be racked with guilt of some kind. One could assume it was the guilty conscious of a killer. On the other hand, it could just as easily be guilt from having been the last person to see Janie alive.

  Brent stared at his hands, thinking the answer over, biting down on his lower lip in concentration.

  “I saw a couple of people.”

  “Who?” Lane was ready with her notepad.

  “The first was Gabe Garent. But he’d never hurt her, ever.”

  “Which way did he see you?” Deputy Pickens suddenly asked, dropping his chair back to the floor with a clunk. Everyone looked at the deputy mildly surprised.

  “What?” Brent asked, not understanding the question.

  “Which way did he see you? Going up or going down?” Caleb clarified, an official tone in his voice, his face a blank mask. Lane had to admit. It was impressive.

  “Up.”

  “And he was going which way?” Caleb asked, putting his hand up to halt anyone from interrupting.

  “Down. He was going downhill. On his way out of the park.”

  “What time was this?” Lane asked, nodding to her deputy. He’d asked a good question.

  “At the beginning of my climb. I’d say six-thirty a.m. Way before I saw Janie.”

  “Did you talk with Gabe?”

  “For a minute or two. Just shot the breeze.”

  “What was he doing out there?”

  “Huckleberry picking.”

  “Huckleberry picking?” Lane raised an eyebrow of doubt.

  “Sure. You can find them higher up this time of year and less likely to be eaten by the bears on The Mole Hill. He collects them for his grandma Betty. She makes jams and preserves with the berries. The town goes nuts for them at the farmer’s market on Sundays,” Brent explained with a smile.

  “Do you think Janie saw Gabe?” Lane suddenly wondered.

  “If she did, she didn’t say anything.”

  “And was Janie happy to see you?” Caleb asked, seeming to know something Lane didn’t.

  Brent looked at Caleb, who was waiting for his answer, his face red.

  “Listen, I never would have hurt her. I can tell that’s what you’re thinking. That I pushed her off the cliff?”

  Caleb shrugged his shoulders, not admitting it was exactly what he thought.

  “And Gabe wouldn’t either.” Brent shook his head, turning back to Lane. “I don’t know who would have. Honest.”

  “Who was the other person you saw?” Lane asked, waiting for the lawyer to advise Brent to stay quiet.

  “Angie Bennett. She was on horseback. I don’t think she saw me though.” Brent licked his lips, staring at the pop can again.

  Lane pushed it towards him, only to have his grandfather push it back.

  “Anyone else?” she asked, frowning at the lawyer before returning her eyes to Brent.

  “Um. I don’t know if this counts but I saw Lucas Wilson’s truck.”

  “Doesn’t he drive a blue Chevy?” Caleb asked, “With the funny bumper sticker in the back window?”

  “What does it say?” Lane asked curiously, looking over at Caleb.

  “I stop for hot chicks and Big Foot.”

  Lane cracked a smile, then turned back to Brent. “But you didn’t actually see Lucas?”

  “Correct.”

  “What time was this?”

  “When I pulled in, six in the morning. He was still parked there when I left to go to work.”

  “Any idea what he was doing in the park?”

  Brent shook his head no. “He might have been with Gabe. I didn’t think to ask when I saw him.”

  “Speaking of Gabe and Lucas. Can I ask why I didn’t see you when we were searching for Janie? The other two were there.” Lane flipped her notepad closed, indicating this was an off the record question.

  “I was on the mainland running errands for the office. Gramps called me and let me know Janie was missing, so I rushed back. They’d already found her by the time I got to the park.” Brent’s voice was thick with emotion again.

  “I understand you and Janie spent your summers together as kids and I heard you were there when her sister Danie drowned. Could you tell me—,” Lane was interrupted.

  “Sheriff, I think we’ve taken enough of your time today.” Mr. Allister gave a frosty smile while standing up, grabbing Brent’s elbow, pulling his grandson up with him.

  “Well, I’d like to ask a few more questions if I may,” Lane ventured, startled by the abrupt closing of the conversation.

  “I’m sure you would, but we have to be going.” Mr. Allister made for the door, waving Caleb out of his way.

  “Well, then.” Lane stood up herself. She knew the interview was over, no matter how nicely she asked or rudely complained. “I appreciate you coming forward, Brent. This gives us a timeline to start with. And…I need to advise you to please not leave the island. We’d like you to be readily available for any questions which might arise.” Lane offered her hand to Brent.

  “We will take your request into consideration. Please give my client the courtesy of calling my office first before reaching out to him directly,” Mr. Allister sai
d formally, and took Lane’s outstretched hand before Brent could. “Good day, Sheriff.”

  Chapter 17

  “Are you doing okay?” Jerry Holmes reached over and took Lane’s hand as she poked at her food with her fork. Lane looked up from her dinner plate, surprised at his touch.

  “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” She smiled and squeezed his hand lightly before taking it back and placing it in her lap.

  “You sure? You seem a little distracted.” Jerry picked up his napkin, dabbing carefully at his curled mustaches.

  “Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind,” she said truthfully, her conversation with the Allister’s still bouncing around in her head.

  “I can imagine.” He said warmly, his eyes sad. “I think we’re all still thinking about Janie’s death. Amy is especially taking it hard.” Jerry started to pick at the wrinkled label on his beer bottle. “As a dad, I hate seeing her in pain.”

  “She was good friends with Janie?” Lane knew the answer, but was curious to Jerry’s take on the friendship.

  “Amy was much closer with Danie than she was Janie. But yes, she considered her a good friend.”

  “Did she get to see Janie at all before….?” She let the question hang in the air between them.

  “No. That’s partially what’s bugging her. It’s the shock of it all. Amy didn’t even know Janie was back on the island.” Jerry took a swig from his beer. “In fact, it was Harry who told her. I guess Janie stopped by Hattie’s to buy a few things.”

  “Why do you think Janie didn’t tell her?”

  “Slipped her mind? Busy? Who knows?”

  “You don’t think they had a falling out?” Lane asked, pondering the question herself.

  “I wouldn’t have thought so…” Jerry’s phone buzzed on the table and he glanced at the caller ID before hitting the silent button. Lane noticed it read the name Heather. “But then, Amy can be difficult at times. I’m more apt to think Janie didn’t realize or know Amy was living back on the island.” He slipped the phone into his shirt pocket. “I believe the last time they talked was when Amy was still living in Seattle.”

  Lane knew Jerry’s daughter had been somewhat estranged from him, as he and her mother had gone through a messy divorce the year before. Amy had left the island to live with her mother in Seattle, but after starting to date Kody, decided to move back. Now, she was living with Jerry and working at Hattie’s General, until she could afford her own place.

  “Janie lived in Seattle as well though. They never got together for coffee or shopping?”

  “Hmm…You’d have to ask Amy.”

  “Has…” Lane had to raise her voice over the loud chatter from the table behind them. “Has Amy ever talk to you about Danie’s drowning?” She pushed her plate back and pulled her drink closer. “Expressed any doubts about what happened? Being she was there and all?”

  “Doubts? No. But then, we weren’t exactly on talking terms at the time. Things between my ex-wife and I were broken and Amy and mine’s line of communication kind of broke down with it. Why do you ask?” Jerry picked up the menu stuffed between the salt and pepper shakers. “Feel like a dessert? We’ve still got time before the movie.”

  Lane shrugged her shoulders to both questions. “Just curious. If you asked her now, do you think she’d—?”

  “Why would I ask her?” Jerry continued to peruse the menu. “It was an accidental drowning. There’s nothing to doubt.”

  “Well…” Lane leaned in, so the table behind them couldn’t hear. “I’d heard talk it might not have been an accident.” Lane knew that to be a lie, but she was fishing for a varying opinion. She was curious what people really had been saying.

  Jerry’s head popped up from the menu in surprise.

  “What?” His faced darkened with a perplexed expression.

  “Oh, it’s just talk, Jerry. I’m sure there’s nothing in it,” Lane said dismissively, casually browsing the back of the menu. “How about splitting a banana split?”

  “Um, sure.” Jerry waved at their waitress and then turned back to his dinner date. “People said that? Not an accident? That’s strange. I don’t know what would make someone say that.”

  Lane shrugged her shoulders, as if to say, “Me either,” and then added, “Jerry…” Lane looked over her shoulder briefly before whispering, “The coroner ruled Janie’s death a homicide today.”

  “Based off of what?” Jerry practically scoffed. “Gossip?”

  “No, mostly my recommendation,” Lane admitted, suddenly feeling defensive. “I found a few odd things about her fall.”

  “Such as?” Jerry asked, his voice lowered to a strong hush. His eyes darting over Lane’s shoulder to the table behind them.

  “Well, her camera was—,” Lane started, and then stopped short, startled. “Are you okay?” She had watched Jerry cram the menu back between the salt and pepper shakers with more effort than necessary.

  “I’m fine,” he waved her on. “What about her camera?” Jerry prodded.

  “No, you’re not fine. What’s the matter?” Lane shooed their waitress away as she started to approach their table.

  “I think you’re making a whole something out of nothing,” Jerry said through clenched teeth, giving the dismissed waitress an apologetic smile.

  “How so?” She was surprised at his comment and more than a little offended.

  “You’ve heard a rumor about Danie’s death and then all of sudden, you’ve decided Janie’s been murdered! You’ve jumped to a terrible conclusion. I’m surprised at you.”

  “Surprised at me?” Lane’s eyebrows arched as she leaned in and whispered. “Jerry, I haven’t jumped to any conclusions. There are several indications…” She stopped at the incredulously look on his face and leaned back heavily in her chair, giving him a hard look. “I’m amazed you think I’m swayed that easily.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean… Look, I just don’t see how Danie’s drowning has anything to do with Janie falling off a cliff,” Jerry said, firmly.

  “I didn’t say they did, Jerry.” Lane looked at him, her eyes slit. “I didn’t say they had anything to do with each other at all.”

  “Well, it was implied,” Jerry said, stubbornly. “And it’s all hearsay. That’s what gets my goat.”

  “Who says it’s all hearsay? Maybe, it’s not?”

  “You’ve got proof then?”

  “Proof of what being done to who?” Lane pounced, curious to which death he was going to question.

  “To Janie’s fall,” Jerry clarified, frustration in his voice. “What proof do you have it was not an accidental fall? You started to say something about a camera. Tell me.”

  “I…I can’t.” Lane lied stubbornly. She didn’t feel like telling him anything anymore. “I can’t share what proof I have. It’s an open investigation and I’m not at liberty to say yet. I’m sorry I even mentioned it.”

  Jerry stared at Lane for a long minute, and then his stern face crumbled into a patient smile, somewhat obscured by his mustaches. “No. I’m sorry.” He busily straightened the napkin in his lap. “I shouldn’t have asked. Especially if there is an open investigation.”

  “No. It’s my fault,” Lane said, stiffly. “I never should have brought up the subject of Danie.”

  “No, no. I’m the one who got touchy about it.” Jerry extended his hand across the table, palm up. He left it there until Lane placed her small hand in his. He held on and leaned in, asking gently, “Still want to split a banana split?”

  Chapter 18

  Philip scanned the sparse parking spots in front of Hattie’s General and noticed Harry’s brown beast of a pickup truck was conveniently absent. Secretly relieved, he decided this was as good of a time as any to get his grocery shopping done. He had already put it off prior to the fight with Harry at the bowling alley and now a few days later, he was down to a couple cans of soup and a packet of top ramen. But, most importantly, he was out of beer.

  As he pulled open the door to
Hattie’s, the golden bell a top gave a welcoming chime. Philip briskly walked in, giving Amy the new cashier standing behind the counter a warm smile and a nod, before grabbing one of the small shopping baskets by the end of the front counter. He had started to head towards the beer case, when he spotted Miss Hattie sleeping in her rocking chair. Philip slowed down, cautiously taking a look around the front of the store. If Miss Hattie was still there, Harry was most likely as well.

  “Harry in the back?” Philip whispered, doing his best to not wake the dozing Hattie.

  Amy smiled and shook her head no, then whispered in return, “He had to run a short errand before heading home. I told him I’d keep an eye on her, so she wouldn’t have to wait out in the truck in this heat.”

  Philip nodded in approval, giving her a grateful smile, then pointed towards the aisles. “I’m gonna do some quick shopping before Harry gets back.”

  “Better hurry, he left like five minutes ago,” Amy said lightly, picking up the magazine she’d put down when he walked in.

  A few quick trips up and down the shopping aisles and Philip returned to the register counter, placing his overfilled basket on top, next to a full case of beer.

  “Find everything alright?” Amy asked, ringing him up while trying to keep an eye on the door.

  “Think so.” Philip pulled out his wallet. “How’s your dad, Amy?” He leafed through his bills, pulling out two fifties. “Saw him the other day, but didn’t get a chance to actually visit.”

  “He’s doing good. Spending a lot of time with the sheriff,” Amy said, punching keys on the register. “She seems nice...”

  “That is nice,” Philip said distractedly, not really paying attention to her response. He’d noticed Hattie had woken up and was rubbing her eyes, looking around seemingly confused as to where she was. Philip nodded in Hattie’s direction and said to Amy, “I’ll be right back.” He then laid some money on the counter for his purchases and walked over to the rocking chair.

  “Evening, Miss Hattie.” Philip stooped over the elderly lady, lightly putting his hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.