Page 66 of The Boy Who Cried Bear
“With a knife?”
He chews that over while glowering as if I’m the bad guy for poking holes in his story.
“Fine.” He spits the word. “I wanted to know what the boy saw. I heard something about it being some kind of Bigfoot, and you were all pretending it was just a bear. I followed for more information. And I was right. You lied.” Satisfaction surges so strong you’d think he’d uncovered us as Max’s kidnappers.
“We believed Max saw a bear,” I say. “If you overheard us talking, you heard that, too. Either way, our conversation gave you an idea of how to lure Max out. You kidnapped him and planted those notes. Then you followed us on our search for Max, hoping for more useful information, such as what we suspected and whether we were on to you.”
“No!” He pushes his chair back and rises. “I didn’t take the kid. I was investigating, just like you. Helping.”
“By spying on us? That doesn’t sound like helping. It sounds like investigating our investigation.”
“I was concerned you weren’t doing a good enough job. You weren’t looking at Dana as a suspect, but now you’ve seen what she wrote. I was right, wasn’t I?”
I take out the note we removed from his pocket. I spread it on the desk between us, flattening it with my hand, letting the silence stretch.
“You have read it, right?” he says.
“I have.”
“And you see that I’m right. She confessed to everything.”
“Confessed and signed her real name, just like you asked. Which means you owe her something.” I look at him. “Her son.”
“What? No. Are you listening? I don’t have him.”
“Then what’s this?” I shake the note. “What is the point of making her confess?”
He goes still. That’s what snagged my attention—the oddness of that “demand.” A confession, complete with her real name.
“It was for you,” he says finally. “Helping the investigation. So you’d know she’s a real suspect and investigate.”
“A real suspect for what?” I lift the note. “This confession says that she stole money from a cartel and that’s why they’re after her. What does that have to do with Max? She kidnapped her own son? For what?”
That pause again, the wheels turning fast. Then he blurts, “The cartel tracked her here. That’s what I mean. They obviously tracked her, and they’re holding him captive until she gives back the money.”
“How? By wiring it from her phone?”
“No…” Think fast, Louie. Think fast. “By promising to wire it once she’s out of here.”
I stare at him. I don’t need to say a word before he realizes how preposterous that is and starts spouting alternate theories.
I lean forward. “We have a problem, Louie. Nothing upsets people more than a missing child. Now we’ve held you under house arrest and questioned you and searched your room multiple times. That’s going to make people suspicious, and they’re going to turn that suspicion on you.” I pause. “I’m sorry to say this, but I don’t think you can stay in Haven’s Rock.”
His face lights up. Then he tries to cover it, muttering, “That’s not fair, but whatever.”
“I’ll need to keep investigating you.”
He nods, his gaze averted as he tries to hide the shine in his eyes.
“You’ll need to stay in a secure facility until this investigation is complete.”
That light starts to dim, his eyes narrowing. “Secure facility?”
“Comfortable. It’s not prison. And you…” I draw this part out as I watch his expression. “… might have access to the internet and such.”
“Might?”
I shrug. “I can arrange it, if you cooperate.”
