questioned his reliability as a witness, but Marcus realized that grilling Petilune was going to present some special challenges. They needed to have their ducks in a row and not have them confusing the girl any more than she already was. The fact the poor kid couldn’t string two coherent words together didn’t bode well for her being able to enlighten them on what had happened. It was the main reason he’d done nothing more than hold her and mutter the usual there-there, you’re safe, don’t worry, honey pablum.
Tired of standing, Marcus slid down the wall and crouched on his heels. Rocking back and forth, he took a few seconds to organize what he’d seen—beginning with them in Josh’s truck, their hands almost touching, and how it had felt to be privy to a man’s confessions, to how an accident had changed everything for him. How he’d taken his misfortune and turned it around, turned himself around.
But mostly Marcus remembered the hand so close to his own it had taken an act of will not to grip it. It would have been a simple matter of compassion—of just being sympathetic and understanding—showing it that way instead of a pat on the shoulder or the arm, like men would sometimes do. Except, the words, the admission of what Josh saw as a huge character flaw, had lit Marcus from the inside, making him feel for someone else for the first time in years.
A wash of regret followed the initial relief he hadn’t given himself away so completely. The last thing on this earth he wanted was to alienate the man he was building trust with. That in the space of a few hours they’d moved from being passing acquaintances to friends, and now potential partners in a shared adventure, was enough. It had to be.
Shaking himself from his musings, Marcus said, “Okay, we heard the window break. Sounds of a fight a couple rows over from where you’d parked. Two guys were hammering on Will. There was another one hanging back.”
“Describe them.”
“Older teens, maybe in their early twenties. Didn’t know them so they probably aren’t from around here.”
Josh persisted. “Tell me what they looked like.”
Closing his eyes, Marcus thought back to earlier that day. What had he seen, who had he been looking at? He spoke hesitantly, trying to recall details but coming up with mostly vague impressions. It had all happened so fast he couldn’t be sure of what he saw.
“Um, the one who sticks out was the kid standing next to the reverend’s SUV. Seemed to me he was the instigator, the one telling the other two what to do. He was my size, maybe an inch shorter. Buzz cut. Might’ve been blond or light brown. Hard to tell when it’s scalped like that.”
Josh wasn’t able to slide down the wall into a semi-sitting position without making a major project out of it. He stood close to Marcus, his right foot braced against the wood siding. It would have been useful to get a read on whether or not what he recalled was what Josh had also seen.
Josh asked, “Eye color, anything else?”
“Can’t say I got that close to notice. Once I caught sight of Petilune in the car, I worried about what was going to happen to her.” He paused to consider if there was anything else that struck him. “Mostly they struck me as city types, scrappy, with chips on their shoulders.”
Josh sucked air above him. “Reason I’m asking is I didn’t have time to pay attention to him. I wanted to get the other two off Will before they did any more damage.”
“That was a nice toss, cowboy. That kid’s gonna be sore for a few days.”
“Tough. He was the one going for the kidney shot with his shitkickers.” He swore under his breath. “I been away from the job so long I’m losing my touch. Not so long ago I’d have had enough to make a sketch artist’s job a piece of cake. Now I’m struggling to pull up even the most obvious stuff.”
Marcus held his hand out for Josh to pull him up, both of them grunting with the effort. They
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