More by Sloan Parker (best ebook reader for chromebook .txt) 📕

newspaper, but a few were from the local city paper. Like the first one on the pile. A note was attached to the front.

Not something for your DVD, but I thought you might like to read the article. Maria.

I pulled off the sticky note and reread the story.

COLLEGE STUDENT OVERDOSES AT GRADUATION PARTY

Local college student Daniel Conner was found unconscious in a bathroom at an undisclosed residence on May 11. He had been attending a graduation party and was alone in the bathroom when he ingested a fatal dose of cocaine just prior to his discovery. A friend of the deceased, Johnathan Moore, tried to revive Conner until paramedics arrived on the scene. Conner was pronounced dead at 1:28 a.m. just after his arrival at Memorial Hospital. Police have ruled the incident an accidental overdose.

Five sentences. You'd think describing the end of a young man's life would take a few more words than that.

I pictured Matthew snorting a line of blow, having shot after shot forced down his throat. If he had died that night, would his newspaper story have read the same way?

I folded the paper in half and shoved it back into the envelope. I picked up the photos again, pausing at the one Maria had marked with another sticky note.

The shorter man in the middle is Danny Conner.

Just a kid. He looked younger than Matthew. He also looked happy, one arm draped across the shoulders of a younger version of Roger Vance, the other arm around my father.

What led Mark Summers to my father's college years and the death of Danny Conner? And if I was right and my father had something to do with his death, the real question was why? Why would Johnathan Moore risk his future? Maybe he didn't kill Conner, but maybe the time he spent trying to revive him wasn't as helpful as it could have been. Perhaps Conner knew something my father wanted to keep quiet. Something Conner had written in his journal.

If I wanted answers, I'd have to find that journal. Roger Vance may have been correct in assuming Mrs. Conner was deceased. What then?

I stared into Danny Conner's eyes. Was my father really your friend?

I turned to another picture. Three men, the same pose, but the third man standing beside my father wasn't Roger Vance. My dad had one arm around Conner's shoulders and the other around the new man. Phillip Meade? Danny Conner didn't seem nearly as happy as in the last photo. He still had a smile, but it was subtle, a little sad the way it didn't quite curve his lips. I studied my father. The look in his eyes reminded me of the time he'd held a gun to my face. Was this where it started? Was this when he mutated into the vicious, hard man I knew?

I couldn't look away. I studied his slight, cocky smile, the way the university sweatshirt he wore bunched up on the arm he had around Phillip Meade, the way his jeans fit his frame too well. I pulled the photo closer and sat up. A small, curved metal object stuck out the top of his left pocket. A pocket watch?

I swiped the phone off the coffee table and dialed Maria Lammon's number.

“Oh, hi, Luke. Did you get the pictures I sent?”

“Yeah. I'm just now getting everything together. I wondered if you could help me identify someone.”

“Sure. Let me just get the album out so I know what you're looking at.” She was gone a minute. The more I looked at the object stuck in my father's jeans, the more convinced I became it was Danny Conner's watch.

When Maria came back on, I described the photo.

“Got it,” she said. “Oh, that's a good one. John was so handsome. He's still the most attractive man I know in real life— you know, from seeing him on TV.”

I ignored her comments and got to the point. “I know Danny Conner. The other guy next to my father?”

“That's Phil. I remember taking this picture. It's... it's the last one. Three hours later, Danny was gone.”

Bingo. Might as well go for broke.

“You said Danny had the coke in a silver pocket watch.” Not that she'd told me it was silver. “Is that it in my father's pocket?”

Silence.

“You still there?”

“That sure looks like it. But... Danny always had it. I think it belonged to his father. Why would John have it?”

“He picked it up that night, right?”

“But that was after. That part I remember. I told him later he should give it to the police or Danny's mom. He yelled at me to mind my own business. I'll never forget that. John never yelled at me. I think that's when I knew things were never going to be the same again. He was spending most of his time with Elizabeth and less and less with us. When he did get with any of us, it was always one-on-one. We just never were the same gang again.”

“You sure this was the night Conner died?”

“Definitely. I got the film developed months after the funeral. I remember sitting there crying as I flipped through the pictures. This was that night.” She paused. “Maybe Danny dropped it and John picked it up.” She was talking to herself. I let her continue. “Maybe he... well, he had to have given it back to Danny before we started playing pool. They were gone for a while before that.”

“Gone?”

“Yeah. Danny and John disappeared for half an hour. Then John came back and started a game of pool. Danny was in the bathroom. And then— why wouldn't John have said anything about the watch? At least to me.”

“Maybe he and Danny argued?”

“Argued? Danny? No. He looked up to John. I think they were off trying to get Danny to make a play for someone. John was always helping him out with girls. It explained the coke. You know, like maybe he had gotten shot down again and needed a pickup. I think