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“Sophia, I want to help your brother, but you need to be honest with me.”
“Henry said that he was protecting me. But I don’t understand why.”
“Javier threatened you,” I said simply.
Evelyn walked back in with a stack of books. “How?” the woman demanded.
I told Evelyn what Sergio said. Her expression showed deep concern, and she looked at Sophia with motherly compassion. “I think Sophia needs to stay home from school indefinitely,” I said.
She agreed. “That’s a good idea. I still want to talk to the police. Why haven’t they come to take my statement? They said they would.”
“Did you tell them that you have knowledge of a homicide?”
“I didn’t say it like that.”
“Call them back and be clear. Tell them that Sophia’s brother admitted to her that he witnessed a murder. They’ll talk to her.” I didn’t know if keeping Sophia home would be good enough for Sergio, but for the short term it might work.
Evelyn handed me five yearbooks. “What are you looking for?”
“Pictures of Henry, Javier, and Bruno.”
Sophia gasped. “Not Henry. I don’t want to get him in trouble.”
“He’s already in trouble. But he’s young, so if he cooperates, he may get probation. If he cooperates, I will help him.” Or, rather, convince my mom to help. She was the lawyer after all. “But it’s his choice.”
“She’s right, sweetheart,” Evelyn said. “He’s on the wrong path.”
I took the yearbooks. “Do you know Bruno’s last name?”
“Martin,” Sophia said.
I quickly looked up the names. I found Henry Diaz in seventh grade last year. Bruno was two pages after. Javier was in none of the middle school books. I turned to the older high school yearbooks and found Javier as a freshman two years ago. Mrs. Edgar didn’t have a more recent book.
“May I take these?” I asked. “I’ll return them.”
She nodded. “Let me give you my number. If you learn anything please let me know.”
I typed her number into my phone and said, “If any of these boys come here, call 9-1-1. I’m working on finding a safe place for Sophia for the duration, but in the meantime, keep her home.”
While I drove to Lyle’s Diner, I called Detective Villines. He didn’t answer. I left a message.
I was surprised to find Millie at the diner talking to Julia, but I shouldn’t have been. Millie was that kind of friend. I left the yearbooks with Julia. I had marked the pages, but not the names of the suspects. There were thirty-six photos on each page, that should be sufficient for a fair ID. She promised to show the photos to the other victims and call Detective Villines if anyone recognized one of the thieves.
Then I drove back to the Cactus Stop. Some of the videos Don posted had been bothering me, especially the one up on the Piestewa Trail. But the primary thing that irritated me was that he’d said he hadn’t known Greg before Greg started working with him. That was a lie. They’d known each other since high school and they hung out together over the years. Why would he lie about that?
Of course, he didn’t have to tell me the truth about anything. He could exaggerate or obfuscate or make up complete bullshit. But I’ve found that if someone knows a murder victim or celebrity, they tend to exaggerate the friendship.
Oh, we were best friends since high school! I can’t believe he’s dead.
Instead, Don had downplayed his friendship with Greg.
I barely knew him.
I walked into the Cactus Stop not knowing what I wanted to say or do, and decided to wing it.
Don Cruz was there, working behind the counter. He saw me, grinned. “Hey, you again.”
“Me again,” I said with a smile. I went over to the beer cooler and picked up another six pack of Coors Light. I was going to have a fully stocked refrigerator and my brother didn’t even drink that much. I put it on the counter, paid.
