Dream Chasers (20 page)

McIntyre marched towards the door, making no pretense of civility. Staring hard at Green, he addressed the mother. “Is this one of Riley's cousins?”

Noreen said nothing for a moment before her own civility finally won out. “No, this is Inspector Green of the Ottawa Police.”

McIntyre's lips tightened, but he showed no surprise. He knows exactly why I'm here, Green thought, and why I want to question Riley about Lea Kovacev. “Aren't you way out of your jurisdiction, Inspector?”

“Police Services cooperate all the time,” Green replied breezily. It was true, although the fact that he hadn't mentioned his presence to the Gananoque Police made it misleading. But for this asshole, he suspected loopholes were the essence of the law.

“Have you got some kind of warrant? Otherwise I don't believe we have to tell you shit.”

“You don't have to, although at that point I obviously get suspicious, so I call in the
OPP
and I escort Riley back to Ottawa, where we have a nice, formal taping room for interviews.

Someone from the media is bound to get hold of that.”

McIntyre's jaw thrust out further. During this interchange, Green was aware of Riley walking around his car, brushing dirt from its sides. In person, he was an extraordinarily charismatic presence. Taller and more powerfully built than his father, he moved with the grace and agility of a cat. Vitality radiated from every muscle. Now he turned to walk up towards the house, and he caught sight of Green. His jaw dropped, his step faltered. Robbed of energy, he looked as if he hadn't slept in days. His eyes were hollow and shot through with red, and his whole face seemed to sag. He looked at Green not with puzzlement but with fear.

The boy too knows why I'm here, Green thought.

“Don't you fucking threaten me,” McIntyre was saying. Not a guy for subtlety.

Green drew out his notepad. He loved the drama of that prop. “What's your name, sir?”

“I'm Victor McIntyre, not that it's any of your fucking business.”

Riley's mother stepped in. She had been watching the drama in silence, but flinched at every vulgar word from the man's mouth. “Vic—”

The attempt at caution was futile. McIntyre shot her a look that bordered on contempt. “I hope you two didn't tell him anything, Noreen.”

Noreen flushed. “Just general chitchat. Riley's career, ah...”

Green rescued her. “Are you Riley's lawyer?”

“I'm his agent.”

“In that case, Mr. McIntyre, you have no standing in this matter. You are neither his lawyer nor his relative, besides which Riley is eighteen, so he speaks for himself.” Green manoeuvred himself between McIntyre and the boy, who was hanging back at the bottom of the steps. “How about we grab a coffee somewhere, Riley? My car is right over there.”

He nodded towards the Subaru sitting at the curb. Riley had begun to rally some confidence, perhaps from his asshole agent, and his expression had become guarded.

“I don't have anything to say that can't be said in front of them.”

“You're probably right. But you never know what topics we'll discuss. In my experience, people always find they're more comfortable in private.”

“The boy doesn't want privacy,” McIntyre interrupted. “He wants support.”

Green ignored him with an effort. “This will only take half an hour, and I'll have you back in plenty of time for your party.”

Riley shot McIntyre a glance that Green couldn't interpret. Part questioning, part pleading. But also perhaps, part fear? “I'd like him to be present,” he said. “He can stay if I request it, right? If I give permission?”

Green debated how to proceed. He could press the issue, but risked losing Riley's cooperation altogether. But he was damned if this loudmouth bully was going to censor the boy's every answer. “If you want someone present, I suggest your father. We're going to be discussing personal things, Riley. Your father is the most appropriate person.”

“He's obviously not interested,” McIntyre said. “He's just gone to change,” the mother said. “I'm sure he'll be down in a minute.”

“I don't want my father. I want Vic,” Riley said, loud enough that Green was sure his father could hear. His lips were beginning to tighten, just like his mentor's. Green wanted to strangle the interfering asshole but kept his face impassive as he rethought his options. He could, of course, insist on a private interview, but that would entail making the interview formal, notifying the local police and probably dragging a lawyer into the fray who would make Vic look like a pussycat. The power game he was playing with Vic almost required him to take that option. Yet he would lose valuable time, Riley would gain time to bolster his defences, and Green would miss the opportunity to observe McIntyre and gauge what he knew about Lea's death. Even going along with Riley's request, at least he could rattle a few nerves.

“This is not a me-against-you situation, Riley,” he said, trying to make the best of it. “So you don't have to feel threatened. If at any time you decide you don't want Vic there, you just give me the word.” He glanced at Noreen O'Shaughnessy, whose cheeks were blotched pink with anger. “Would it be all right if we used your living room?”

She nodded. “Since you're going to be longer than you thought, perhaps you'd like that drink after all? Coffee? Coke?”

Riley shook his head, but Green accepted a coffee. She shot a defiant look at McIntyre before turning on her heel without offering him the same. Green signalled both men into the living room and invited Riley to sit in one of the armchairs flanking the window. He immediately chose the matching one opposite, effectively splitting Riley off from McIntyre, who was forced to sit on the sofa across the room. With this arrangement, Green and Riley were backlit by the window, making it more difficult for McIntyre to read their expressions. More importantly, he had forced McIntyre out of Riley's line of vision and reduced the chances the agent could control him.

McIntyre didn't see all this until it was too late, when he could do nothing but glower. Green gave Riley what he hoped was a fatherly smile. “Do you know why I'm here, Riley?”

Riley shook his head. He perched forward on the wing chair as if poised to flee, his elbows on his knees and his long, fluid hands dangling restlessly.

“You know a girl in your school, Lea Kovacev, died. We're interviewing all her friends and classmates, trying to figure out how the accident happened. Your name came up.”

Riley managed a very small “Oh.”

“It's a terrible tragedy. She was a lovely girl by all accounts. There will be a coroner's inquest, probably more rules and higher fences by the falls—” He paused, then lobbed his next question as gently as he could. He'd already decided that with McIntyre playing guard dog, his only hope was to sneak up on the topic. “How did you meet Lea?”

“She is—was—” Riley balled his fists and fixed his eyes on some distant point out the window, “in my Outdoor Education class. I missed a lot of the excursions, but we did go on one or two together. Winter camping in Gatineau Park, and just last month, mountain biking.”

“How long have you known her?”

“Just since classes started in September.”

“And did you socialize together outside of class?” “No.” The word came out quickly. Too quickly. Then Riley hesitated. He seemed to be scanning his memory for incidents that could contradict his story. One leg jiggled. “Well, she came to a couple of my games. And we probably had drinks together a few times. You know, as part of a group.”

“Any personal get-togethers? Just the two of you?” “Well...” Riley glanced at McIntyre, who nodded almost imperceptibly. They've been rehearsing this, Green thought. “She did help me on a couple of English assignments. She's a good writer, and I...I didn't always have time to read the books we were supposed to.”

“You mean she wrote the assignments for you?” “No! She just told me what the book was about. Mostly Shakespeare, which I don't really get.”

Green grinned sympathetically. “Lots of people don't really get him.”

“And then she'd read my essays afterwards, just to doublecheck them.”

“Whose idea was this?”

“Hers.” Riley clamped his jaw tight for a moment, as if he was struggling to keep his feelings at bay. His fists clenched and unclenched. “She was super friendly, always out to help people. She was the type of girl to make everyone feel special.”

Green dropped his tone gently. “Sounds as if you liked her a lot.”

It had the desired effect, for Riley's eyes reddened. He didn't answer. Green suspected he couldn't. A movement in the shadows caught his eye, and he glanced up to see Ted pause halfway down the stairs. He was watching his son, and in that unguarded moment Green sensed a profound sadness. More, a father's impotence to take away his child's pain.

“Would you say you knew her better than most of her classmates?”

“Riley already answered that, Inspector.”

McIntyre's interruption was designed to buy Riley time to compose himself, and it worked. The youth sat back in the chair, feigning calm.

“Like I said,” he resumed in a stronger voice, “she was friendly with a lot of people.”

“Do you know if she had a boyfriend? Someone special?”

Riley shrugged, well in control now. “I didn't know her well enough for that.”

“She seems to have had a special boyfriend whom she loved very much. She wrote beautiful poems about him.”

Riley shrugged again, a gesture of defeat this time. “I don't know.”

Green sensed McIntyre stirring again. He could have pushed further and told him about the ice cream seller's
ID
, but decided not to tip his hand. Not with Cerberus running interference. Better to wait for the formal interview. Meanwhile, he would let the kid box himself into a corner with lies. He unfolded the
Ottawa Sun
article in his hand. “Have you seen today's paper?”

The boy blinked in surprise, momentarily relieved until Green handed him the paper. He took it, then let it fall in his lap as if it were hot. “Oh, no!”

McIntyre reached over to snatch the paper from Riley. He scanned it, then tossed it aside with contempt. “It's the
Sun
. What do you expect?”

“It suggests Lea took a drug that might have killed her,” Green said, gritting his teeth and turning back to Riley. “Did you know she used drugs?”

The boy was starting to shake his head when McIntyre cut him off again. “Hardly a big deal. Lots of kids take drugs these days. The paper's just trying to stir up shit.”

Green stared him down. “Oh, but in this case, with the coroner's inquest coming up, we have to take every contributing factor seriously.” He softened and turned back to Riley. “We think she just used them recreationally, to add to the party, but we have to trace who she buys them from. Did you ever sell to her?”

Both Riley and McIntyre shot forward in their seats. Their denials were simultaneous and vigorous.

“Well, we'll be looking at all her friends, to see their drug involvement and to see who might be dealing. You see, whoever sold her these particular drugs could be facing a manslaughter charge.”

“I don't know anything!” Green had the sense Riley was beginning to panic and depart from the rehearsed script. “What she did was her own business.”

“Like I said, drugs are everywhere in high school, Mr. Green,” said McIntyre coldly. “But Riley never uses them, so he knows fuck-all about the drug scene at Pleasant Park.”

“But he knows some of the students she hung around with. A name would be really helpful, Riley. Point us in the right direction. And help balance the tragedy of her unnecessary death.” He leaned forward. “After all, she was such a super girl. She shouldn't have died the way she did. Her body trapped on the bottom of the gorge, washed up like a piece of garbage on the rocks down below.”

Riley was shaking his head vehemently, looking for a way out. “She might have mentioned there was a girl in our Outdoor Ed class who she used to hang around with.”

McIntyre leaped in. “Riley, you don't have to give them shit.”

“Name?” Green demanded.

Riley shot McIntyre a confused glance. “I don't know who. It's something she mentioned. But she also mentioned Justin Wakefield, and I think he deals a bit to his friends.”

Green made a show of jotting down the names, then spread his hands apologetically. “This is just routine, son, but I have to ask. Where were you last Monday night from nine p.m. to three a.m.?”

McIntyre rose from his chair as if to signal the end of the interview. “Okay, that's enough. He's answered all your questions, but this one, you're way out of line.”

Green waited, pen poised. Riley looked about to open his mouth, but McIntyre waved him silent. “He was with me. We were discussing draft offers and it got late, so he crashed at my place. Now I trust this is the last time you'll need to bother us.”

You can trust all you want, Green thought, but you don't know the half of what I've got in store for your golden boy. I've set the hook, but I haven't even begun to reel him in.

G
reen
managed to spend most of the rest of the day at the cottage, immersing himself in the warm, sunny June day at the beach and only checking in with the sergeant on duty by cell phone twice. There was still no news on Jenna Zukowski's disappearance, although Ron Leclair had launched all the usual inquiries. Green put his nagging uneasiness out of his mind until he and Hannah headed back to the city early Monday morning. The full force of the investigation hit him again, however, the moment he walked back into the office, an hour late and clutching coffee and a bagel from Vince's Bagelshop.