Read Online The Competition by Marcia Clark - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marcia Clark
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hoodie and jeans,” Sonny said.
“Have you checked with his friends?” Bailey asked. “Asked whether they’ve seen him?”
Sonny dropped her head slightly. “He really doesn’t have many.”
Tom frowned. “I’ve been trying to remember the name of that kid he did that science project with. Jason…something. He came over here a couple of times, didn’t he?”
“That was last year, Tom. He hasn’t come around since.” Sonny looked at us, her eyes filled with pain. “Otis is a very sweet boy, but not much of a socializer. I-I’m afraid I don’t know of any friends he’d skip school with.”
“Do you mind if we take a look at his room?” Bailey asked.
Sonny stopped, looked at Bailey, then at me for a long moment. “Wait a minute…what’s going on?”
“Now, Sonny.” Tom put a hand on her shoulder. “They’re probably just checking on all the students who’re still missing.” Tom Barney looked from me to Bailey. “Right?”
Bailey and I were silent.
Sonny’s breathing quickened. “No. They’re not.” Her eyes flashed, her voice was low and raw. “You think he’s one of them! Don’t you? Well, I’m telling you right now, that’s impossible! I know my son! He had nothing to do with this! Do you hear me? Nothing!”
“Mrs. Barney, we’re not accusing your son of anything,” I said. “But we have to follow up on all leads. We have reason to believe someone involved in the shooting may still be at large,” I said. We hadn’t released the fact that the killers had escaped, so I had to keep it vague. “If you won’t cooperate, we’ll just have to get a search warrant. It’ll cost us precious time, but…”
I was bluffing. I didn’t have enough to get a warrant. We might be able to justify a quick search right now as hot pursuit of a fleeing felon. But getting consent would be a lot safer. I waited and tried to act confident.
Sonny’s gaze dropped to the floor. Her body began to shake, whether from rage or fear or grief—or all three—I couldn’t tell. Tom put his arms around her, his expression tortured. After a few moments, he spoke. His voice was raw, angry. “Sonny’s right. Whatever kind of ‘leads’ you got that pointed to Otis are wrong. But we have nothing to hide. Look all you want.” Tom led us down a short hallway, to a room with navy-blue walls covered with posters of bands I didn’t recognize. Bloodstained Boots, Crew XXX, and Der Fuehrer. They all showed white guys with shaved heads, most sporting swastika tattoos.
“Mind if we look around?” Bailey asked.
Tom made a sweeping gesture. “Have at it.”
We went through everything—his chest of drawers, the bedding, the closet—searching for guns, ammunition, any mention of a weapons supplier, any notes or photos that might relate to the school shooting. Nothing. I glanced up at the posters on Otis’s wall again.
Sonny saw me. “I know how it looks. We hate them too, but Otis isn’t…he’s not that guy. It’s just a…phase he’s been going through. We think it probably makes him feel powerful, tough. But he’s a good kid. Really.”
I didn’t answer. Tom saw my expression, and his features hardened.
Bailey scanned the room. “It’d help if we could have a crime scene tech in to test for gunshot residue or—”
Tom cut her off. “We’ve already helped enough. Now how about you help us and find our son, goddamnit! Otis had nothing to do with this! So if you want to waste more time searching here, you’d better get a warrant.”
He turned and left the room and we followed him out. There was no point arguing. If we got anything more to tie Otis to the shooting, we’d get that warrant. Short of that, we had no choice but to leave.
From what we’d seen, Otis did look like the typical angry, alienated loner who hated the world enough to lash out, but that didn’t mean he was one of the shooters. At least, not yet.
10
By the time we left Otis Barney’s house it was almost eleven
“Have you checked with his friends?” Bailey asked. “Asked whether they’ve seen him?”
Sonny dropped her head slightly. “He really doesn’t have many.”
Tom frowned. “I’ve been trying to remember the name of that kid he did that science project with. Jason…something. He came over here a couple of times, didn’t he?”
“That was last year, Tom. He hasn’t come around since.” Sonny looked at us, her eyes filled with pain. “Otis is a very sweet boy, but not much of a socializer. I-I’m afraid I don’t know of any friends he’d skip school with.”
“Do you mind if we take a look at his room?” Bailey asked.
Sonny stopped, looked at Bailey, then at me for a long moment. “Wait a minute…what’s going on?”
“Now, Sonny.” Tom put a hand on her shoulder. “They’re probably just checking on all the students who’re still missing.” Tom Barney looked from me to Bailey. “Right?”
Bailey and I were silent.
Sonny’s breathing quickened. “No. They’re not.” Her eyes flashed, her voice was low and raw. “You think he’s one of them! Don’t you? Well, I’m telling you right now, that’s impossible! I know my son! He had nothing to do with this! Do you hear me? Nothing!”
“Mrs. Barney, we’re not accusing your son of anything,” I said. “But we have to follow up on all leads. We have reason to believe someone involved in the shooting may still be at large,” I said. We hadn’t released the fact that the killers had escaped, so I had to keep it vague. “If you won’t cooperate, we’ll just have to get a search warrant. It’ll cost us precious time, but…”
I was bluffing. I didn’t have enough to get a warrant. We might be able to justify a quick search right now as hot pursuit of a fleeing felon. But getting consent would be a lot safer. I waited and tried to act confident.
Sonny’s gaze dropped to the floor. Her body began to shake, whether from rage or fear or grief—or all three—I couldn’t tell. Tom put his arms around her, his expression tortured. After a few moments, he spoke. His voice was raw, angry. “Sonny’s right. Whatever kind of ‘leads’ you got that pointed to Otis are wrong. But we have nothing to hide. Look all you want.” Tom led us down a short hallway, to a room with navy-blue walls covered with posters of bands I didn’t recognize. Bloodstained Boots, Crew XXX, and Der Fuehrer. They all showed white guys with shaved heads, most sporting swastika tattoos.
“Mind if we look around?” Bailey asked.
Tom made a sweeping gesture. “Have at it.”
We went through everything—his chest of drawers, the bedding, the closet—searching for guns, ammunition, any mention of a weapons supplier, any notes or photos that might relate to the school shooting. Nothing. I glanced up at the posters on Otis’s wall again.
Sonny saw me. “I know how it looks. We hate them too, but Otis isn’t…he’s not that guy. It’s just a…phase he’s been going through. We think it probably makes him feel powerful, tough. But he’s a good kid. Really.”
I didn’t answer. Tom saw my expression, and his features hardened.
Bailey scanned the room. “It’d help if we could have a crime scene tech in to test for gunshot residue or—”
Tom cut her off. “We’ve already helped enough. Now how about you help us and find our son, goddamnit! Otis had nothing to do with this! So if you want to waste more time searching here, you’d better get a warrant.”
He turned and left the room and we followed him out. There was no point arguing. If we got anything more to tie Otis to the shooting, we’d get that warrant. Short of that, we had no choice but to leave.
From what we’d seen, Otis did look like the typical angry, alienated loner who hated the world enough to lash out, but that didn’t mean he was one of the shooters. At least, not yet.
10
By the time we left Otis Barney’s house it was almost eleven
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