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approached him cautiously. If Pittman was the killer and liked weapons as much as his friend did, he could be dangerous. The man at the table wore jeans and a black sweatshirt, and his bearded face was streaked with dirt.
    He stood as Jackson approached. “Jake Pittman.” He didn’t offer his hand.
    Jackson introduced himself and gestured that they should sit. “I’m sorry for the loss of your friend. How long had you known Rafel Mazari?”
    “Since fifth grade.” Pittman looked past him over his shoulder.
    He was either uncomfortable making eye contact with another man, or a liar , Jackson thought. “You went to school together here in Lane County?”
    “Junction City.” Pittman squeezed his hands together on the table.
    “And you’ve stayed in touch with Rafel since then?”
    “Yep.”
    “Where do you work?”
    “I’m a self-employed tree cutter and landscaper. I worked for Emerald’s Yard Care for years, then got laid off during the recession.”
    “How’s business?” Jackson kept it casual, hoping Pittman would relax.
    “Slow.”
    “You drank with Rafel last night at Pete’s Pad. What did you talk about?”
    Pittman gave a small shrug. “The usual. Not finding jobs. Watching the game on Saturday. Nothing special.”
    “Rafel was unemployed?”
    “Since he got back. Before he deployed, he worked at Universal Tires, but they don’t need him now.” Bitterness made his voice harsh.
    “How did Rafel seem to you last night? Anything different from the usual?”
    “He was pissed off.” Pittman met his eyes for the first time. “He thought his wife was cheating on him.”
    “Did he say with who?”
    “He didn’t know, but he suspected it might be the vet she works for.”
    “When did he call Sierra and ask her to come down?”
    “I don’t know.”
    Jackson waited, but Pittman didn’t add anything. “What happened when Sierra arrived?”
    “Rafel asked her who she was screwing. She denied it and got mad. They started yelling at each other, so I left.”
    “Did they fight a lot?”
    “I don’t know. Maybe.”
    “Did you spend time with the two of them together?”
    “Not really.”
    “You don’t like Sierra much, do you?”
    He shrugged again. “She was okay until she cheated on him.”
    “But you don’t know who she was seeing?”
    “No.” Pittman shifted in his seat.
    Jackson thought he’d just been lied to. He made a mental note to follow up. “Did you suspect someone?”
    “I don’t know Sierra’s people.”
    “How long had she and Rafel been married?”
    “Two years. But he spent half that time in Afghanistan and the hospital.”
    “How did they meet?”
    “He took his dog in to the animal clinic where she works and fell hard.” A flash of regret. Or maybe grief.
    It was time to pin down the important details. “What time did you leave the bar?”
    “I’m not sure. Maybe nine thirty or so.”
    “Was Sierra still there?”
    “Yes. She and Rafel were arguing.”
    “Where did you go after that?”
    “Home. Why?”
    “I’m just trying to establish where everyone was at the time of Rafel’s death.”
    Pittman shook his head. “I was home with my wife.”
    “What’s her name and number?”
    “Hailey Pittman. But I want you to leave her out of this.”
    “The sooner I verify your alibi, the sooner I cross you off my suspect list.”
    “Fuck you.” Pittman jumped to his feet. “Rafel was my best friend. I loved him like a brother.”
    “Then help me find his killer.”
    Pittman was already walking out, and Jackson let him go.

CHAPTER 9

    Friday, November 11, 3:48 p.m.
    After a couple of calls, Evans learned Cody Sawyer was living with his parents in South Eugene. She drove out Hilyard, past the ball fields, community pool, and jogging trail. Even in the rain, die-hard runners pounded down the sawdust path. She knew Jackson lived in the neighborhood to the left. Just thinking about him made her smile. Evans suddenly remembered that Jackson was supposed to