“No, but I can goose them. And I’ll get unis to go talk to those other salesclerks at the shoe store.” Bailey pulled out her phone and punched a number.
“I want to go back to Logan’s buddies, Caleb and Evan-”
Bailey gestured to the phone. While she spoke, I remembered the other person I wanted to see.
Bailey ended the call. “We should get the info on Logan’s financial empire by the end of the day.”
“I want to get out to Logan’s brother too. The sooner, the better.”
“He’s in Oxnard. I vote we get the local police to help us set that up before we run out there.”
Oxnard was an hour and a half north of us, and if we hit traffic, it could easily be double that. We couldn’t afford to spend hours in travel only to find out the brother was in the wind. “Okay, then let’s hit up Evan and Caleb again.” I looked at my watch. It was after three. School would be out by now. “I’d like to get them somewhere quiet.”
“How about their cribs? We can tell the parents we need to talk to them privately.”
We went to Caleb’s house first. It looked similar to Logan’s. Two stories, but with a brick-and-white, wood-trimmed front. Caleb answered the door in his socks. He looked less than thrilled to see us. “Oh, hi.”
We said we had a few more questions for him, and he reluctantly stood aside, then gestured for us to follow him. Lucky for us, his parents weren’t home. He led us to the kitchen. “I’m just having a sandwich. My mom hates it when I eat in the living room. You, uh, want something?”
“No thanks, Caleb,” I said. His ham and Swiss on rye looked pretty tempting though. We sat at the breakfast table, and Caleb took a man-sized bite. His cheeks bulged as he chewed.
“Did you see Logan at all on the day of the shooting?” Bailey asked. “Maybe on the way to school? At a gas station?”
Caleb swallowed and shook his head. “The last time I saw him was when I told you. A couple of weeks before in the parking lot. When Otis was hanging around.”
He took another bite of his sandwich. I let him swallow before I jumped in. “Do you drive?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you drive to school that day?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Did you happen to notice Logan’s car in the parking lot?” I asked.
Caleb picked up his sandwich, stared at it for a long moment, then shook his head. “I can’t remember. It’s not something I would’ve been looking for, you know?”
I nodded. He took another bite. “Remind me where you were during the shooting,” I said.
Caleb put down his sandwich and stared at the table. “I was in one of the lower rows, close to the floor. By the time I turned to see what everyone was screaming about, they had started shooting. I dropped to the ground and hid under the seat.”
“Did you hear what the shooters were saying?” I asked.
“I thought I heard them yelling things when they were up at the top of the bleachers, but I couldn’t make it out. I was pretty far down and then I got under the seat. And everyone was screaming and…” He looked away.
I felt guilty about making him relive it, but I couldn’t risk missing anything. “Did you hear either of the shooters laugh?”
“No. I’ve already told you everything. Really, it was all just a blur. I’m sorry.”
We left Caleb to his sandwich. He didn’t seem as interested in it anymore.
28
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.