But Not For Lust by BJ Bourg (comprehension books .txt) 📕

little dent. I thought about talking to his mom to make him pay for the damage, but I decided not to.”

“Was your husband with you?”

“Oh, no,” she said with a wave. “He’s always offshore. He’s never home.”

“Was anyone else in the car with you?”

“Nope. I was alone.”

I nodded, indicated the car. “Do you mind if I check it out?”

She shook her head and pointed to it. “Not at all, go ahead.”

While I walked to the car and examined the hood, Susan took over the questioning. I couldn’t hear everything that was being said, but I heard most of it, and it sounded as though Betty hadn’t seen anyone in or around Ty’s yard on Friday night or any other night.

After taking one quick glance at the hood, I immediately saw a small dent about the size of a human hand on the passenger’s side. A cold chill reverberated up and down my back as another scenario occurred to me. What if it wasn’t Ty she’d almost hit? What if someone was chasing Ty and tripped in the street? What if that someone was Logan?

I glanced over at Betty and asked if I could fingerprint the hood of her car.

“Sure,” she said. “Is something wrong?”

“I just want to verify that it’s Ty’s prints on the hood.”

“Oh,” she called out, “it was definitely Ty. I’ve seen him before. He plays in the woods behind my sister’s house.”

I grunted and retrieved my fingerprint kit. It only took a few twirls of my brush to reveal two beautiful hand prints on either side of the hood. Using clear lifting tape, I recovered both prints, secured them to coated paper backers, and scribbled the details in the corner of each. While I was at it, I decided to fingerprint the rest of the car. If Betty noticed what I was doing, she didn’t object. I recovered a number of smudges, but managed to find several legible prints on the driver’s side and one on the passenger’s side.

Once I’d secured the fingerprints and my kit in the Tahoe, I returned to where Susan stood talking to Betty. She had controlled her breathing by now and wasn’t sweating as profusely.

I glanced at Susan. “Are we done?”

She nodded and smiled at Betty. “Thanks for your time, ma’am.”

I led the way to my Tahoe and when we were seated inside, Susan said, “She’s full of shit.”

“What do you mean?” My head jerked around and my mind raced. Had I missed something? “What’s she full of shit about? Do you think she’s the killer?”

“No,” she said with a laugh, “not at all. She’s lying about her reason for going to Phoebe’s house. Phoebe said Betty was up watching a movie when she fell asleep, and Betty said they stayed up playing poker. There’s only one reason to lie about something so trivial—she’s screwing around on her old man while he’s at work.”

I scowled. “She’s sleeping with Phoebe?”

Susan slugged my arm. “No! But she’s using Phoebe’s house as a cheating pad. Phoebe fell asleep, but Betty stayed up with her man.”

I considered this. “Do you think someone else was in the car with her? Maybe her lover?”

“I pressed her on it, but she said no. I also asked who was at Phoebe’s house that night. She said it was only the two of them. I don’t believe that for one second.”

I was thoughtful. I understood why she would lie to us. After all, it was none of our business what she did when her husband was offshore. But what if her lover could contribute more to the story? If he had left before or after her, he might have seen something she didn’t see—a suspect, perhaps.

I told Susan that I thought it was important to find out who her lover was.

“You can always just ask Phoebe.”

I nodded, suddenly remembering the kid. “What about Little Boy Blue? Do you think he was there that night? He might know the name of the boyfriend.” I paused and grunted. “I wonder if he belittles that dude like he does me.”

Susan laughed. “Betty said she and Phoebe were alone Friday night. She said she believes the boy was at his dad’s house. And that makes sense, because little kids talk. It wouldn’t be smart to meet her lover there with the boy around. He might blurt it out one day in front of Betty’s husband, like he did at the bakery.”

I nodded and drove to the office deep in thought. I didn’t know if this changed anything, but I did want to know the name of her boyfriend. What if he had been in the car with her and had exited the car and confronted Ty about the damage to the hood? Maybe an altercation had ensued. Maybe he had become angry, but didn’t want to hurt Ty in front of Betty. Maybe he returned later to finish the fight.

I shook my head. Even if her boyfriend had been there and she had lied to keep from getting caught in an adulterous affair, there was no way a minor altercation over a dented hood would result in the torture and mutilation we saw out in that field. Whoever had done that to Ty was angry about something. It reeked of revenge. But what could an innocent person like Ty have done to evoke such a vicious response from someone?

My thoughts drifted back to the stolen crystal meth and Neal Barlow. Maybe I should pay him a visit at the jail. He might be thinking about his future behind bars and may be willing to talk to improve his predicament. Maybe J-Rock was the killer after all.

“I’ve got some reports to file,” Susan said when I parked in front of the police department. “Let me know when you want to talk to Phoebe about