River of Bones by Dan Padavona (psychology books to read .TXT) 📗

Sutton sat with her back to Thomas inside the interview room. He caught the woman chewing her nails as she peered through the window toward the village center. Afternoon sunlight poured into the room and painted yellow triangles against the carpet. The palm in the corner wilted from neglect.

Thomas rapped his knuckles against the door and pulled it open. Paige stood and straightened her skirt.

“Please, sit.”

Paige gave him an uncertain nod and lowered herself into the chair.

“Water?” he asked, offering her a bottle.

“Thank you.”

Thomas took the seat across the table from hers. The woman’s eyes were drawn and girded by dark circles. She kept glancing at the window, as if she expected something to burst inside and drag her into the unknown. He’d run a background check on Paige Sutton and found a DUI from four years ago. Otherwise, her record was clean. She held a steady job with the Paris fashion company, and none of her neighbors complained about her.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Sutton?”

“Call me Paige.”

“All right.”

She stared at the table and composed her words. When she lifted her head, Thomas saw tears glazing the woman’s eyes.

“You found Justine’s body, didn’t you?”

Thomas studied her from across the table.

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it’s happening again. Just like six years ago when Skye went missing.”

“What’s happening again?”

“The kidnappings and murders.”

Thomas set his hands on the table.

“We don’t know where Justine Adkins is, and we haven’t identified the body from the state park. Had you spoken to Justine since she returned to Wolf Lake?”

“Just once. Wednesday morning, we met for coffee in the village.”

“I thought the two of you were friends.”

Paige’s hand moved to her wrist. She touched the friendship bracelet.

“We are.”

“Before Justine returned, how often did you speak?”

Paige ran a hand through her blonde hair as her lower lip trembled.

“Not often.”

“By not often, do you mean once a month, once a year?”

The woman looked away. She unscrewed the cap on her water bottle and drank, the bottle quivering in her hand.

“Not since high school graduation.”

“Did something happen between the two of you?” She didn’t answer. “Paige? If there’s something important you’re holding back that will help me find Justine, tell me now.”

Paige’s eyes wouldn’t sit still. She kept glancing everywhere, except at Thomas.

“We drifted apart after we lost Skye. It was too difficult for us to bear.” She pawed through her bag and dabbed a tissue beneath her eyes. “When I saw Justine at the cafe, it was like the old days. She’s stubborn and keeps to herself. But she opened up to me. After I didn’t hear from Justine, I sensed something was wrong. So I called her last evening and got her voice-mail. That’s when I contacted your department.”

Thomas wasn’t sure how much he wanted to share with the woman. If someone kidnapped Justine, Thomas needed to find her quick. The first forty-eight hours were crucial, not only because murder rates increased beyond that time window, but also witness accounts grew foggy after two or three days.

“We found Justine’s Acura at the KG Shopping Market in Kane Grove.” He paused and studied Paige, waiting for a reaction. “According to her credit card company, she purchased groceries at ten-twenty-three, and the assistant manager remembers her.”

“What happened to her?”

“That’s what we’re trying to determine. The assistant manager claims a dark colored van almost ran him down around the time Justine left the store. Do you know anyone who drives a black or dark blue van?”

Paige swallowed.

“Should I?”

“Paige, tell me who wanted to hurt Skye during high school. Because if the same person broke into your house and kidnapped Justine, you might be next. I can’t help you unless you’re straight with me.” The woman didn’t reply. Her haunted expression peered through the walls, as though viewing a reality only she could see. Thomas sighed. “When I sat down, you were certain we’d found Justine’s body. Why?”

Paige shook her head. She fiddled with the bracelet, spinning it around her wrist.

“I’m just scared. That’s all.”

Thomas sat back.

“Three girls form a bond that lasts through high school. One goes missing, and the other two refuse to speak to each other again.”

“But I—”

Thomas held up a hand.

“Yet you both hold on to your friendship bracelets, as if they’re lifelines. Something happened during school that drove you and Justine apart, and I sense it got Skye killed. What aren’t you telling me, Paige?”

She stood and swung her purse over her shoulder.

“Why am I on trial? I have nothing to hide. My friend is missing. Search for her instead of interrogating me.”

“Sit down.”

“I came here on my volition. You can’t force me to stay.”

“Paige, I’m trying to help you. Please.” She tossed her purse on the neighboring chair and sat. “Now, let’s go back to high school. I remember what it was like to be a teenager. Insecurities, peer pressure. We all made decisions we regret. Was there a boy you competed over with Skye and Justine?”

“I wouldn’t steal a boy from my friends.”

“Okay. How about a classmate the three of you had a run in with?”

“I told you. Everyone loved Skye.”

“But did everyone love you?”

She examined her hands.

“You make me sound conceited.”

“I’m simply asking who your enemies are. Someone bullied me during school. It’s not unusual.”

“There was no bullying at Wolf Lake High. We were a better school than that.”

Thomas shrugged his shoulders.

“Then I’m uncertain what you want from me. You claim you have no enemies, and nobody would want to hurt you or your friends. Yet you believe someone murdered Skye, and that person took Justine.”

Paige clasped her hands together.

“It’s possible the intruder who broke into my house is the same person who kidnapped Justine and murdered Skye. I want protection. Can’t you place a deputy in front of my house until you apprehend this psychopath?”

“We don’t have enough deputies. I can’t watch your home twenty-four hours per day.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“Tell you what. I’ll call the state police barracks. They might have enough officers to stake out your neighborhood.