Read Online Pale Immortal by Anne Frasier - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anne Frasier
Tags: America Thriller
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to him. He didn't want them to be nice. Were they up to something? "What day is it?"
"Thursday."
"No, I mean the date. What's the date?"
"April eighth."
Graham's birthday was tomorrow.
The young cop left, then reappeared a half hour later. He unlocked the cell door and held it open. "Chief Burton wants to see you in his office."
Was this a good sign or a bad sign?
Chief Burton was old and thin, and reminded Graham of somebody's grandfather. He wore a gray suit that matched his gray hair. The thin fabric hung from his sharp shoulders. He reeked of cigarette smoke and fried food. In an office with wood-paneled walls and no windows, he motioned for Graham to take a seat on the opposite side of his desk. He smiled, and Graham relaxed. A little.
"So ..." Grandpa pulled out a metal lighter, lit a cigarette, shut the lighter with a loud snap, then leaned back in his chair. "I hear you've been in a little trouble."
"I didn't know there was anything wrong with hanging out in a park."
"There are several things wrong with that. You were sleeping. We don't allow sleeping and loitering in the park."
"How do you not loiter in a park?" Should he have been selling hot dogs or something? "Can't somebody take a snooze in the park?"
"Let me put it this way. You can take a nap—but you can't settle in for the night. Doesn't matter." He waved his words away. "You're underage. Fifteen-year-olds can't live alone."
"I'm sixteen." Almost.
"Sixteen-year-olds can't live alone either. That . makes you an unattended juvenile. Another concern: Someone was murdered in that park, not far from where you were sleeping, just two days ago. And since perpetrators often return to the scene of the crime, you chose a particularly bad place to set up camp."
He paused to take several deep puffs from his cigarette, then tucked it into a large glass ashtray. "If I had a grandson your age, I wouldn't want him in the park. We're lookin' out for you, Graham."
"Ummm. Okay." The room was small, and Graham's eyes were burning from the cigarette smoke.
The chief stubbed out his butt, then started hacking away.
Why don't you just quit smoking? Graham wanted to say. You're telling me I'm stupid for sleeping in the park when you're killing yourself?
When the guy finally stopped coughing, he acted as if nothing had happened. "Unless you are the perpetrator." He leaned back in his chair. "You hit town the same night the murder took place."
"What?" Graham's heart began to pound. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Maybe nothing." Burton shrugged.
"You think I killed somebody?" That was insane! He'd thought his life couldn't get any more screwed up, but apparently he was wrong.
"Personally, I don't think you killed anybody, but that's not to say you aren't a suspect. Your badly timed arrival makes you suspicious."
"But I was at Evan Stroud's. Ask him."
"We did. He told us the approximate time you showed up on his porch. Hours after the murder took place. Where were you before you went to Stroud's? Do you have an alibi?"
"I was in a car. We were driving to Tuonela. Me and my mom."
"Unfortunately we can't find her. We have no proof of what you're telling me."
Did that mean he was going back to jail? He couldn't do that. Maybe this guy was just messing with him. Trying to scare him into confessing, if he had anything to confess.
"Here's what I'd like you to do," Burton said. "Since we can't find your mother, we've made temporary living arrangements for you until we can locate her."
Social Services. But not jail.
"During that time, which hopefully won't be long, you have to go to school. We can't have you piddling around all day, doing nothing."
He shrugged.
"Good." Burton smiled.
They both got to their feet.
The old guy put an arm around his shoulders, giving him an encouraging pat. "No matter how bad things seem, they always work out."
Someone had left Graham's pack in the hallway. He picked it up, and the chief walked him to the door.
"Thursday."
"No, I mean the date. What's the date?"
"April eighth."
Graham's birthday was tomorrow.
The young cop left, then reappeared a half hour later. He unlocked the cell door and held it open. "Chief Burton wants to see you in his office."
Was this a good sign or a bad sign?
Chief Burton was old and thin, and reminded Graham of somebody's grandfather. He wore a gray suit that matched his gray hair. The thin fabric hung from his sharp shoulders. He reeked of cigarette smoke and fried food. In an office with wood-paneled walls and no windows, he motioned for Graham to take a seat on the opposite side of his desk. He smiled, and Graham relaxed. A little.
"So ..." Grandpa pulled out a metal lighter, lit a cigarette, shut the lighter with a loud snap, then leaned back in his chair. "I hear you've been in a little trouble."
"I didn't know there was anything wrong with hanging out in a park."
"There are several things wrong with that. You were sleeping. We don't allow sleeping and loitering in the park."
"How do you not loiter in a park?" Should he have been selling hot dogs or something? "Can't somebody take a snooze in the park?"
"Let me put it this way. You can take a nap—but you can't settle in for the night. Doesn't matter." He waved his words away. "You're underage. Fifteen-year-olds can't live alone."
"I'm sixteen." Almost.
"Sixteen-year-olds can't live alone either. That . makes you an unattended juvenile. Another concern: Someone was murdered in that park, not far from where you were sleeping, just two days ago. And since perpetrators often return to the scene of the crime, you chose a particularly bad place to set up camp."
He paused to take several deep puffs from his cigarette, then tucked it into a large glass ashtray. "If I had a grandson your age, I wouldn't want him in the park. We're lookin' out for you, Graham."
"Ummm. Okay." The room was small, and Graham's eyes were burning from the cigarette smoke.
The chief stubbed out his butt, then started hacking away.
Why don't you just quit smoking? Graham wanted to say. You're telling me I'm stupid for sleeping in the park when you're killing yourself?
When the guy finally stopped coughing, he acted as if nothing had happened. "Unless you are the perpetrator." He leaned back in his chair. "You hit town the same night the murder took place."
"What?" Graham's heart began to pound. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Maybe nothing." Burton shrugged.
"You think I killed somebody?" That was insane! He'd thought his life couldn't get any more screwed up, but apparently he was wrong.
"Personally, I don't think you killed anybody, but that's not to say you aren't a suspect. Your badly timed arrival makes you suspicious."
"But I was at Evan Stroud's. Ask him."
"We did. He told us the approximate time you showed up on his porch. Hours after the murder took place. Where were you before you went to Stroud's? Do you have an alibi?"
"I was in a car. We were driving to Tuonela. Me and my mom."
"Unfortunately we can't find her. We have no proof of what you're telling me."
Did that mean he was going back to jail? He couldn't do that. Maybe this guy was just messing with him. Trying to scare him into confessing, if he had anything to confess.
"Here's what I'd like you to do," Burton said. "Since we can't find your mother, we've made temporary living arrangements for you until we can locate her."
Social Services. But not jail.
"During that time, which hopefully won't be long, you have to go to school. We can't have you piddling around all day, doing nothing."
He shrugged.
"Good." Burton smiled.
They both got to their feet.
The old guy put an arm around his shoulders, giving him an encouraging pat. "No matter how bad things seem, they always work out."
Someone had left Graham's pack in the hallway. He picked it up, and the chief walked him to the door.
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