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“So you thought you’d get lucky with Kelly?”
“I figured it was worth having. In case.”
“And did you get lucky?”
“No,” said Harris. “She wasn’t there when I got back. Like I told you before.”
Detective Cooper sighed. He would have loved to pursue that line of questioning further, but he had to restrain himself. Harris was still technically a witness, not a suspect, and Detective Cooper hadn’t read him his rights.
“What happened when you saw that Kelly wasn’t at the park?”
“I sat on the swing and smoked my joint.”
“You got high? You didn’t look for her?”
“Sure, I looked for her. I called her name. No answer. I figuredthat she’d gone home. That she’d stood me up. I stayed for a bit, smoked, and went home.”
“That’s right,” his father interrupted. “Harris knocked over a pile of recycling when he came in at around two thirtyA.M.I went to check on him not long after. He was in bed. Asleep.”
“It would be helpful if you’d come down to the police station, Harris,” said Detective Cooper, treading carefully. “So we can talk some more. There might be other things you saw that could lead us to Kelly.”
“Is that really necessary?” Bill Wilson said. “You said you only had a few questions.”
“I did. But a girl is missing. Based on what Harris has told me, there are more questions that need to be asked. That’s best done at a police station rather than here.”
Harris’s dad picked up a pack of cigarettes and lit one. “Do we need a lawyer?” he asked once he exhaled.
“It’s up to you.”
“Are you saying that my son is a suspect?”
“Until we find Kelly Moore, everyone is a suspect. Especially the last person to have seen her alive. Right now that appears to be your son.”
Detective Cooper squashed his empty soda can and tossed it into the trash. Rachel’s time was up. He needed to get back to his work.
“Do you think that Harris was involved? That he and Scott did this together?” Rachel asked, reluctant to budge until she’d squeezed as much information as she could get out of him.
“Harris was charged with aiding and abetting. That’s a serious offense. I guess you heard on the local news that he cut himself a deal. Now he won’t stand trial.”
“Harris must have been involved. Otherwise, why would he take a plea deal?” Rachel pressed.
“There are lots of reasons why a suspect takes a plea deal. Maybe he’s guilty. Or he’s innocent but doesn’t think he can prove it to a jury. Or, third option, his family can’t afford to pay the going rate of a good trial lawyer,” he said, inserting a fresh piece of sandpaper into the sander as he prepared to resume his work.
“Even then, it’s hard to believe that a person would admit to doing something if he didn’t do it,” said Rachel.
“Justice is expensive. You’ve got to have serious money if you want to put up a halfway decent defense. Maybe his family and lawyers did the math and figured they didn’t want to risk a long prison sentence for Harris,” he said. “That sort of horse trading happens all the time. Otherwise the court system would be clogged to paralysis. I’ve seen more plea deals than trials in the twenty years I was a detective in Rhode Island, and then the past two years here in Neapolis.”
“You’re a recent arrival!” said Rachel in surprise. She’d intended to ask him about Jenny Stills in case he knew what had happened to her, but didn’t bother in light of his revelation that he was a relative newcomer to the town. “What made you move here?”
He hesitated. “My marriage broke up. I figured I’d leave the force, set up a business taking tourists on diving trips. I’m a master diver. Ended up getting offered a detective job. Now I’m a working cop again. Believe me, there’s nobody more surprised than me,” he said, plugging in the sanding machine.
Detective Cooper put on his earplugs as Rachel climbed off the boat onto the jetty to the sound of the high-pitched whine of the sander scraping the deck.
She walked down the jetty, passing a line of moored cruisers until she reached the marina complex, where there were severalseafood restaurants with tables that spilled out onto a waterside deck. Rachel hadn’t tried any of them even though they were across the road from her hotel. They were always crowded and she didn’t have the luxury of time to wait for a table.
As Rachel passed the Blue Sea Cafe, she spotted a small table overlooking the water. She decided that for once she’d have a proper lunch instead of eating takeout on the go. Rachel chose the seat facing the sea and put on her sunglasses to block the glare of the sun.
When the waitress came around, Rachel ordered the crab burger from the specials chalkboard. It came with chips, a side of salad, and an artfully presented sliced avocado with a squeeze of lime. Rachel ate it all. She opted not to order dessert or coffee. She’d dawdled enough. When the waitress came around with an American Express folder containing the check, Rachel slipped her credit card inside without looking at the bill.
