The Night Shift (12 page)

"I'll be out the door before you even have time to yell my name," Collin proudly promised. His depressed grimace was now replaced with
a
sheepish grin.

"All right. Just get home now."

"Yes, sir."

Without another word Collin was out the door, even more thrilled and excited than he was when he walked in. Anxiously hopping into his car, he cranked the radio up just about as high as it would go and drove him feeling more optimistic than he had been in a long time.

*  *  *

Hours passed. Collin was now sitting at his computer in his bedroom with the door shut. Photos of everyone from Arbur Winslow were scattered all over the wall, with Nick's picture being the closest one to the computer. The computer desk was even messier than normal with several papers strewn about where Collin had written theories (many of which didn't make a lot of sense nor were plausible) or had drawn sketches of the park and had small dots representing his co-workers and where he thought they might have been on the night of the killing.

Before he even did some thinking with the newly acquired information from Jess, he logged onto his NetPub account and immediately went over to a small tab that read, "My Status". After clicking on it, a page was brought up with a small white box in the center. He wrote in, "Right now, I'm feeling more alive than I have in years." After clicking the SUBMIT button, the exact same message appeared next to the photo of him in the corner of the screen that said, "Welcome, Collin."

After letting the whole world know that he was excited about something more than he ever had been before, he was about to log off the site until something caught his eye: he noticed that one of his friends had sent him
a
message.

Clicking on the message, he saw that it was from a long time friend of his named Trish Sands. She was two grade levels higher than Collin, but they were childhood friends and never really lost it too badly over the years, making them still close. The message read: "hey collin wats up hey you getting excited about something up at ur job or what?
u
said u were hoping a lot of suspense would come to an end.
wats
that supposed 2 mean?"

Collin was not a bit upset with himself; now he'd have to explain what was going on and why he was excited. He didn't mind that so much, but he figured it would take away from valuable time that he could be using to help figure out the crime.

Right as he was about to click on the REPLY button, something unexpected caught his eye. Next to Trish's name on the screen were photos of three of her friends chosen at random. On the far left was a picture of Nick, who apparently had a NetPub account as well. Nick's profile picture included him staring at the camera, flipping it off with one hand while holding a red plastic cup in the other.

Oh, real nice,
Collin thought to himself when he saw the picture.
Dare I ask what was IN that c…ah, whatever.

After hitting the REPLY button, Collin responded back with: "lol yeah its pretty exciting but i dont want to talk about it now.
hey
how about we talk about it sometime this weekend cause thats when i have time off.
ps
you have nick fust as a friend? i didnt know he had
a
netpub but i work with him.
imagine
that".

When his message was complete, he sent it out and instantly logged off his account. He turned his attention back to all the papers in front of him. With a pen in his hand, he stared down the blank white sheets and said, "All right, time to brainstorm!"

*  *  *

The next day, Collin went into work knowing full well what he was going to be doing. He knew he wouldn't have an easy time telling Nick that he was going to be called into the police station for questioning later, but he just tried to get himself collected. Jess knowing was one thing; Nick was much more unpredictable, and quite possibly more violent.

Before he started his shift, Collin went over to the work sign-in forms and printed his name in one box and the hours he was planning on working the day in the box right next to it. The black ink from the pen was hardly visible due to the quantity of heavy black blots scattered around the work form almost like spots over a Dalmatian.

All right, Nick. Hopefully you'll make this easy…

*  *  *

"All right, son, you know why you're here?" Teneire asked.

Nick was sitting in the same chair that Jess had been sitting in the day before. Right next to Teneire's seat was Collin's. Just like Jess, Nick was confused as to why his co-worker might be sitting in the questioning room and staring him down as if he (Nick) was a killer. But he soon seemed to shrug those feelings off.

"Uh…got something to do with Scott?" Nick asked rhetorically.

"Yes, it does, actually," Teneire said. "We wanted to ask you some questions about it."

"Dude, you already asked me about this thing
last
summer. Do I really have to answer them again?"

"Yes."

"Ugh…"

"Don't worry," Teneire calmed. "Just tell the truth and everything will be fine, 'kay?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just lemme ask one question."

"Uh…all right."

"What's he doing here?" Nick demanded as he pointed to Collin.

"Heh heh…I'm…kinda helping," he nervously answered.
Nick is gonna SO kill me if he turns out to not have anything to do with all this…

"Don't worry. Just answer my questions as honestly as possible and you'll be fine. 'Kay?" Teneire requested.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just make it fast. I got a party to go to tonight."

He says that right in front of an OFFICER? How cocky IS this kid?!
Collin thought.

"Okay. I've got you recorded. Anything you say may be used in a court of law. Understood?"

"Yup."

"Good. Remember-as honestly as possible."

Collin gulped. He couldn't help but notice Nick seemed a lot cooler and collected than he did. If Nick seemed so casual, then maybe he had nothing to do with the murder, after all. But Collin knew he had to find something that would either make Nick suspicious or make someone else look like they could have killed Scott. He knew if he didn't find
something
in Nick's story, his job in this case would be over.

"Okay…so are you aware of how Scott died?" Teneire asked, effectively beginning the questioning.

"Yeah. He got stabbed in the neck with a knife."

"Mhm…and do you know whose knife it was?"

Nick looked like he was deep in thought and hesitated a little while before asking. After what seemed like forever, he finally blurted out, "Nope. Can't say that I do."

There's no way that's right…
Collin decided right after he heard it. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, so
you're
asking me questions, too?"

"Just answer!" he ordered.

"Sheesh. You gotta chill out, man. No one likes working with a sourpuss."

Speak for yourself.

"All right…uhm…nah, I don't think I remember."

"Very well," Teneire said. His voice gave the inclination that he didn't believe Nick, either. "You remember if something odd happened around the time of Scott's death?"

"Uh…nothin' out of the ordinary, really."

"Did you happen to lose
your
knife?"

"Huh?"

"Don't all you guys get your own knives at Arbur Winslow?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"And did something happen to yours?"

Nick looked like he was really debating heatedly with himself about whether or not he should answer that question, along with
how
it should be answered. When he looked at Collin and Teneire and saw the suspicious looks on their faces, he seemed to decide just to give a straightforward answer.

"Yeah. I think I lost mine."

"When did that happen?"

Nick looked like he was getting even more furious to have to be answering the questions. "Ugh…I don't wanna make it sound bad or anything, but I think it was around the time Scott died."

"Really," Teneire said. He was talking more like he knew that all along and had just confirmed it.

Collin was now suddenly deep in thought. He had an idea; he just hoped it would work. "So, let me get this straight…you're admitting you lost your knife around the time Scott got killed, right?"

"Yeah, which means I wasn't the one who killed Scott."

"Huh?"

"Someone had to have one of those knives to kill Scott, right?"

"Yeah?..."

"And I didn't have mine. So there's no way I could've done it."

Teneire looked like he was ready to go on to the next question, but Collin jumped in and stopped him.

"Before you say anything else…" he asserted, "I just want to make sure I understand everything. So you automatically say you're off the hook because your knife was missing when Scott died?"

"Yeah. So if I didn't have a knife, how could I have killed him?"

Collin suddenly became very cocky. "Pretty easily, I'd say."

"What are you talking about?" Nick asked with his voice suddenly becoming a bit shaky. Was his confidence starting to deteriorate?

"When Scott got killed, you didn't have
your
knife, did you?"

"Wha?..."

"Unless I'm wrong-and I don't think I am-I think you had
Jess's
knife when Scott died!"

"Wait, what?!"

"Collin, let's not forget
I'm
the one asking the questions here," Teneire reminded. "You're only here to…help."

"Fine, but I just want Nick to answer
a
few more things. Nick…when you 'lost' your knife, you borrowed Jess's, didn't you?"

"What…But…wha…how do you know that?!"

"She told us," Collin snidely answered. "Was she telling the truth? Or was she lying?"

"Ugh…uh…fine. Now that I think of it, I think I
did
borrow Jess's knife. But so what, right? I mean, what difference does that make?"

"I think you know perfectly well what difference it makes," Collin pressed, sounding like he was waiting for a giant confession to burst out of Nick now. "And let me tell you something: the knife that killed Scott was Jess's, and you had Jess's knife on the night Scott got killed! You know what that means…"

"Hey!" Nick raged. "I didn't…I mean…"

"Actually, that leads right into my next question," Teneire said in a surprisingly soothing voice. "When exactly did you lose your knife, and what happened when you got Jess's knife?"

"Ergh…fine. I lost my knife probably a few days before Scott got killed. After I found out I lost it, I went to Jess and asked if I could use hers while I waited for a new one to get delivered to me."

"Why'd you go to Jess?"

"She usually has to pick up trash or clean parts of Arbur Winslow, in case you didn't notice," Nick aggressively responded. "She doesn't really need that knife. I can't think of
one
instance where she used it."