One Last Breath by Sarah Sutton (speld decodable readers txt) 📗

belongs to. We think they might be able to help us with a case we’re working on.” He stared at Tara and Warren skeptically. She was stretching the truth. Tara and Warren both knew that whoever owned that memory card was a prime suspect, but Tara wasn’t going to scare this guy out of talking. She grabbed hold of her cell phone, clipped on her belt loop, and opened to the photos she had downloaded from her email. She held her phone out, arm’s length across the coffee table.

“Does this photo look familiar to you?” It was the first image of the house up in flames.

He leaned in closer and squinted, but then his eyes opened wide, and for the first time his expression morphed into concern. He recognized them. Tara was sure of it. She flipped to the next image, and the next, until he had finally seen each image taken of the house fire.

“Where—” he started, but then he stopped as he stared at the last image on the phone, becoming lost in it and losing his words. Tara pulled the phone back, and he finally met her eyes.

Whatever he was about to say, he stopped himself, his face becoming cold and stern. “Those aren’t mine,” he replied, crossing his arms awkwardly. “I was at that fire, but those aren’t my pictures.” He tried to hold a steady gaze on Tara, but she could see a slight unease. He looked nervous. He was lying, she was sure of it.

Warren finally leaned forward. “Do you know whose they might be?”

He looked off into the corner of the room, thinking for a moment, but it was brief, almost too brief. He shook his head. “Not that I can think of. There were a lot of people there.” His voice shook at the last sentence.

“This was found at Fowler Beach,” Warren added. “Were you at Fowler Beach anytime recently?”

“Why?” Ben shot back, his eyes moving uneasily between Tara and Warren.

“We just want to know if you saw anyone at both locations who might’ve taken these pictures.”

Ben suddenly relaxed slightly. “Fowler Beach,” he repeated under his breath. Tara was unsure if he was trying to recall the location, or if he was surprised to hear that the memory card was found there. After a moment, he stiffened and shot his head back to Tara and Warren, as if realizing he let his guard down for a moment.

“This is about those girls found buried on the beach, isn’t it?” He waited, and Warren was about to speak, but he continued. “I’m a stringer; I’m at every story. There’s tons of reporters and photogs at every one I go to, most the same. It could be anyone.”

Tara looked over at Warren before asking a question of her own. “Do you mind if we see your footage from both those days, just so we can see if we spot anyone who might’ve taken these pictures?”

At Tara’s question, a film of sweat began to form on his forehead. “I…uh…I don’t think I have that footage with me here. I handed those memory cards over to a station.”

“Which station was it? Maybe we can contact them.”

His mouth hung open a moment, lost for words, and he unlinked his arms and began to rub his hands nervously in his lap. “Oh wait,” he said as he tilted his head in one direction. It was as if a thought finally struck him. “I sold some memory cards last week, from an ad I posted. One just like that.” He gestured to the memory card on the coffee table.

“But wouldn’t that have been after the fire?” Tara asked. It was a detail he hadn’t fully thought out, and she could see the realization flood through his eyes. If he had sold them after the fire, then that could only mean that he was the one who had taken the pictures. His body tensed even more.

“Oh, true,” he replied. “It can’t be mine then.” He began to rub his hands even harder, so hard it was as if he were trying to pull skin from bone.

Silence fell around them. He still had yet to answer Tara’s question. “So which station was it?” she asked again. “That you gave the memory card to?”

He refused to meet her eyes, becoming increasingly restless in his seat as he pulled at the skin of his hands. Tara could feel Warren tense up next to her. Ben was becoming increasingly panicked, and they both knew his next move could be unpredictable.

“Uhh…I…uh, I have to take a look. I can’t remember at the top of my head.” His head was bowed down as he spoke, as if speaking to his hands. But then he suddenly shot up out of his seat. “I need to take a look,” he said nervously as he stumbled backward from the chair until he stood behind it.

Tara and Warren stood up as well. “Ben, take a seat. Let’s just talk a bit more, and then you can check for us,” Tara said. She was afraid he was about to make a run for it.

“What for? What else do you need to ask me?” he asked, his hands now digging into the top of the chair they rested on. “Why is that memory card so important? You think it’s a suspect’s, don’t you?” His eyes moved anxiously between Tara and Warren.

His mother was now standing at the other end of the hallway She was silhouetted against the light of the glass panes in the door. “Ben,” she asked. “Is everything all right?”

They all ignored her as Tara stared Ben in the eye. “We’re not sure,” she began. “But we did find a picture on it that leads us to believe so.”

Ben’s fingers were about to rip the fabric of the chair from gripping it so hard, but he didn’t respond.

“Is this memory card yours, Ben? If it is, you can tell us. There might be a logical explanation.”

At Tara’s words, anger swelled in