Kisscut (11 page)

"She's thirteen," Grace told him, as if that answered it. "We don't even let boys call the house."

"She couldn't have been seeing anyone on the side?"

"I don't see how," Grace answered. "She's home from school every day when she's supposed to be. Whenever she goes out, it's always with a group of her girlfriends and she always comes back in time for her curfew."

Lena could sense Jeffrey trying to catch her eye, but she ignored him.

He asked, "What time is her curfew?"

"School nights we don't let her go out, of course. Fridays and Saturdays, nine o'clock."

"Does she ever sleep over with anybody?"

Grace looked as if she had just realized that Jeffrey's interest in Lacey was more calculated than she had originally thought. The look was similar to the one Dottie Weaver had given Lena just hours before, but there was far more menace in Grace Patterson than there had been in Dottie Weaver.

She demanded, "Why are you asking so many questions about my daughter? It was Mark that little girl pointed the gun at."

Jeffrey said, "Dottie told us that Lacey and Jenny were friends."

"Well…" she began, the hesitancy still there as she obviously tried to think a step ahead of Jeffrey's questions. Finally, she said, "Yes, they were friends. Then something happened and they stopped hanging around each other." She shrugged. "I guess it's been a few months since that happened. We haven't seen Jenny around for a while, and I know Lacey hasn't gone over to her house."

"Did she tell you why?"

"I assumed it was some silly little disagreement."

"But you didn't ask her?"

Grace shrugged. "She's my daughter, Chief Tolliver, not my best friend. Little girls have their secrets. You can ask your ex-wife about that."

He nodded at this. "Sara said Lacey's a great kid. Very smart."

"She is," Grace agreed, and she seemed pleased to have her daughter complimented. "But, it's not my place to pry if she's not ready to talk about it."

"Maybe she wouldn't mind talking with someone else about it?"

"Meaning?"

"Do you mind if I talk to her?"

Grace gave him another sharp look. "She's a minor. If you don't have cause, you can't talk to her without my permission. Is that right?"

"We don't want to talk to her as a suspect, Mrs. Patterson. We just want to get some idea of what state of mind Jenny Weaver was in. We don't really need your permission for that."

"But, I've just told you that Lacey hasn't seen Jenny for a while-probably since Christmas. She wouldn't have any idea about this." Grace gave a polite but humorless smile. "I do not want my daughter interrogated, Chief Tolliver." She paused. "By you or by Dr. Linton."

"She's not suspected of any wrongdoing."

"I want to keep it that way," she said. "Do I need to call the school and tell them that she is not to talk to anyone without either her father or me in the room?"

Jeffrey paused, probably thinking that she knew a hell of a lot more about the law than they had initially suspected. Schools were very friendly with law enforcement, and since administrators served as in loco parentis while the kids were on campus, they could allow interviews.

Jeffrey said, "That's not necessary."

"Do I have your word on that?"

Jeffrey gave a quick nod. "All right," he said, and Lena could hear the disappointment in his voice.

"We'd still like to talk to her," Jeffrey said. "You're more than welcome to sit in on an interview."

"I'll have to talk to Teddy about that," she told him. "But we can both imagine what he'll say." She gave a slight almost-smile, ending the hostility. "You know about daddies and their little girls."

Jeffrey sighed, and nodded again. Lena knew that Teddy Patterson was more likely to slip on his wife's Sunday best than to let his daughter talk to a cop. Cons learned to distrust the police early on, and despite the fact that he had been out of prison for a good while, Teddy still seemed to be practicing this.

To his credit, Jeffrey did not completely give up. He asked, "She hasn't been sick lately, has she?"

"Lacey?" Grace asked, obviously surprised. "No, of course not. Ask Dr. Linton if you like." She put her hand to her chest self-consciously. "I'm the only one in the family who's ever been ill."

"She was going to church? Lacey was?"

"Yes," Grace told them. She smiled again, and Lena could see that her teeth were slightly gray. "Mark was, too. For a while, anyway." She paused, looking at the fireplace. Lena thought she was looking at the painting, but then she noticed there were pictures of the family on the mantel. They were the kinds of snapshots every family had, kids and parents at the beach, at an amusement park, out camping in the woods. The Grace Patterson in these photos was a little heavier and not so sunken-looking. The kids looked younger, too. The boy who must have been Mark looked around ten or eleven years old, his sister around eight. They seemed like a happy family. Even Teddy Patterson smiled for the camera in the few shots that showed him.

"So," Jeffrey prompted, "they went to the Baptist?"

"Crescent Baptist," Grace answered, her voice animated for the first time. "Mark seemed very happy there for a while. Like some of his nervous energy was being directed, finally. He even started doing better in school."

"And then?"

"And then…" She shook her head slowly, her shoulders slumped. "I don't know. Around Christmas, he started to get bad again."

"Christmas this past year?" Jeffrey asked.

"Yes," she said. "I really don't know what happened, but the anger was back. He seemed so…" Again, she let her voice trail off. "We tried to get him into counseling, but he wouldn't show up. We couldn't make him go, though"-she looked down the hallway, as if to check to see if they were alone-"his father tried. Teddy thinks that people should be like him. Boys, that is. Or men, I should say. He has strong ideas about what's acceptable."

"There was a church retreat at Christmastime. Did Mark go on that?"

"No," she shook her head. "This was around the time he started to act up. He was grounded, and his father wouldn't let him go."

"Lacey went?"

"Yes," she smiled. "She'd never been skiing before. She had a wonderful time."

They fell silent, and Grace Patterson picked at some nonexistent lint on her dress. Obviously, she had more to say.

"I'm very sick," she said, her voice low. "My doctors don't hold out much hope for me."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jeffrey said, and he truly seemed to be.

"Breast cancer," Grace said, putting her hand to her chest. Lena noticed for the first time that the woman's chest was almost completely flat under her blouse. "Lacey will be fine. She always lands on her feet. I don't like to think what will happen to Mark when I'm gone. For all his posturing, he's a gentle boy."

"I'm sure he'll be okay," Jeffrey assured her, though even to Lena he did not seem confident. Short of a miracle, boys like Mark did not turn themselves around.

Grace picked up on the deception. She gave a small, knowing chuckle. "Oh, I'm no fool, Chief Tolliver, but I thank you all the same."

Teddy Patterson's footsteps were heavy in the hallway, and the trailer shifted slightly from his weight as he entered the room. His son was behind him, a stark contrast to the father. Patterson grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him into the room.

Lena 's first impression of Mark Patterson was that he was incredibly handsome. Last night, she had not taken much notice of him because so much had been going on. In the trailer, she took her time assessing him. Mark's dark blond hair matched his mother's, but it was more full, and slightly shorter. His eyelashes were longer than any she had ever seen on a man, and his eyes were a piercing blue. Like most sixteen-year-old boys, he had the beginnings of a goatee on his chin and the semblance of a mustache over his full lips.

As Lena watched, he tucked his hair behind his ears with his fingers. She could not help but think there was something erotic in the gesture. There was also something about the way he walked and held his shoulders that gave him a certain sensuality. His faded jeans rested a little below his thin hips, and the tight white T-shirt he wore rode up a little, showing off the definition in his abs.

Despite all of this, there was a sexlessness to him. Mark Patterson was a sixteen-year-old child on the verge of becoming a man. He was boyish in that androgynous way that was now popular with teenagers. When Lena was in high school, boys had done everything possible to make themselves appear more masculine. Today, they were more comfortable with blurring the roles.

"Here he is," Patterson barked, pushing Mark farther into the room. The man seemed angry, even more so than before, and his hands were in tight lists like he wanted nothing more than to pummel his son. For some reason, Teddy Patterson reminded Lena of Hank. The gruff way he had pushed Mark and the nasty tone of his voice could have come from Hank twenty years ago.

"We'll go for a drive," Patterson told his wife. "Get your pills from the pharmacy."

"Teddy," Grace said, the word catching in her throat. Lena wondered, too, why a man with Teddy Patterson's innate distrust of the police would leave his only son alone with them. By law, Teddy could be in on the interview. He was effectively hanging his son out to dry.

Jeffrey obviously wanted to capitalize on this. "Mr. Patterson," he began. "Do you mind if we schedule an appointment with Mark tomorrow to get a blood sample from him?"

Patterson's eyebrow went up, but he nodded. "Just tell him when and he'll be there."

Grace said, "Teddy."

"Let's go," Patterson ordered his wife. "The pharmacy closes soon."

If Grace Patterson had power over her husband, she had learned when not to use it. She stood, offering her hand first to Jeffrey, then to Lena. Grace had not even talked to Lena the entire time, but the woman kept Lena 's hand in hers for longer than just a polite good-bye.

"Take care," she told Lena.

Grace Patterson stopped in front of her son before she followed her husband out the door, giving him a kiss on the cheek. She was a couple of inches shorter than he was, and she had to rise up on her toes to do this.

"Good-bye," Grace told him, patting his shoulder.

Mark watched her leave, touching his fingers to his cheek where his mother had kissed him. He looked at his fingers, as if he might see the kiss on them.

"Mark?" Jeffrey asked, getting the boy's attention.

"Sir?" he said, drawing out the word. His body was too loose to stand still, and he swayed a bit.

Jeffrey asked, "You stoned?"

"Yes, sir," he answered, putting his hand on the back of a chair to steady himself. Lena saw a large gold class ring on his finger. The red stone caught the light, and she guessed there was an initial underneath.

Mark asked, "You wanna take me to jail?"

"No," Jeffrey told him. "I want to talk to you about what happened last night."

"What happened last night," he mimicked, his words slurring together. "I wanna thank you for shooting the right person."

Jeffrey took out his notebook, flipping it open to a blank page. As Lena watched, he took out his pen and wrote Mark's name at the top of the page, asking, "You think I did?"

Mark smiled lazily. He walked around the chair and sat down, blowing air out between his lips as he did. There was something sexual even in this movement, and rather than being repulsed, as Lena thought she would have been, she was intrigued. She had never met a grown man who seemed so comfortable with himself, let alone a teenage boy.

Jeffrey started out with a hard question. "Were you the father of that baby last night?"

Mark raised his eyebrow the same way his father had. "Nope," he said, his lips smacking on the word.

Jeffrey tried a different avenue, asking, "Was your sister with you last night?"

"Naw, man," Mark answered. "My mom, you know. She's not doing too well. Lace stayed home with her." He shrugged. "She don't ask often, you know? My mom likes to leave us out of the fact that she's fucking dying."

He swallowed visibly, turning his head to the side, looking out the window. He seemed to compose himself, because when he looked back at Jeffrey, the smile was there, teasing at his lips. There was something more to this kid than his looks. A shadow seemed to be hanging over him, and not just because of what happened last night. He had about him the air of being damaged, something Lena could relate to. He seemed fragile, but slightly dangerous at the same time. Not that he was threatening like his father. If anything, Mark Patterson seemed to be a danger only to himself.

Lena found her voice for the first time since they had gotten to the trailer. "You like your sister?" she asked.

"She's a saint," Mark said, twisting the ring on his finger. "Daddy's little girl."

"Has she been feeling okay lately?" Lena asked. "She hasn't been sick or anything, right?"

Mark stared openly at Lena. There was nothing hostile about the stare. He seemed curious about her and nothing more. He said, "She seemed fine this morning. You'd have to ask her."

Lena tried, "Why was Jenny Weaver so mad at you?"

He raised his shoulders, held them there for a while, then let them drop. Lena watched as he lifted up his shirt and absently started to stroke his flat stomach. "You know, lots of girls get mad at me."

Jeffrey asked, "Were you involved with her?"

"What, in a relationship?" He shook his head slowly side to side. "Nah. I mean, I did her a couple of times, but it was nothing serious." He held up his hand to stop the next question. "This was when I was fifteen, officer."

Lena told him, "There has to be at least a five-year age difference for statutory rape."

Jeffrey shifted on the couch, obviously not pleased that Lena had given Mark this information. He could have used this threat for leverage. Now he had to find something else.

Jeffrey asked, "When was the last time you had sex with her?"

"I dunno," Mark said, still stroking his belly. There was a small tattoo on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. Lena could make out a black heart with an inverted white heart in the center of it. Mark had obviously done this himself, because the symbol looked as rudimentary as his father's jailhouse ballpoint ink tattoos.