What We Found by Kris Bock Page A

might as well tell the truth. It will be easier that way.”
    He pushed off the desk, took two steps, and loomed over me. “Easier for who?”
    He smelled of breath mints, cigarettes, and dirt. Dirt where living things decayed and new life grew. “Easier for Bethany Moore. Easier for the police to find her killer. Don’t you want that?”
    He hesitated, and then jerked one shoulder in a shrug. “Sure. I hope they find the guy who did that.” His face scrunched in disgust, and I realized he must have the image of her body seared in his mind as well. “The dude who did that ought to be put away. But it has nothing to do with me. I don’t want the police poking in my business.”
    I braced myself against the door and met his gaze. My voice trembled, but I got the words out. “They’re in your business already. I’m going to tell the truth. You’ll be better off if you do the same.”
    He slammed a hand against the door beside my head. “I can make your life miserable.”
    I turned my face away. It took all my effort to whisper. “You think it isn’t already?”
    We stayed frozen like that for half a minute. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his face, just inches from mine. I felt his breath on my cheek and wished I didn’t have to breathe the same air.
    Finally he dropped his arm and backed up a step. “Come on. You’ve already lied to the police. You don’t want to change your story now.” His tone was wheedling. I pressed against the door and watched him warily. I didn’t trust this mood any more than the last one.
    “Just let it ride,” he coaxed. “No one can prove we were together. It doesn’t matter whether I was there or not. The police will find the killer, and everyone will forget about this.”
    “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it doesn’t matter.” I edged sideways and fumbled for the door handle. When I was partway through, I added, “But maybe it does. And if there’s any chance it will help the police find a killer, I’m telling the truth.”
    I pulled the door shut and scurried away as Jay’s curse rumbled behind me. Rodrigo was in the center aisle, fifteen feet away. He lunged toward me, but I darted to the next aisle and ran for the door. I didn’t know what Rodrigo wanted, probably to hold me so Jay could finish yelling at me, but I wasn’t going to wait to find out.
    I rushed outside, blinking against the bright sun. I kept glancing over my shoulder as I hurried toward the lodge, but no one came out after me. By the time I got to the bench alongside the building, I was shaking so hard I could barely walk. I grabbed for the bench and slumped into it.
    My heart stuttered in my chest. A thin film of sweat turned my forehead clammy. A drop ran down one temple but I couldn’t find the energy to brush it away.
    “You’re all right,” I whispered. “You did fine.” Katie had made me practice talking to men—any man—so I could get over my shyness and anxiety. A few years before, even small talk would have sent me into panic mode. At least this time, I had a good excuse for my nerves.
    I shifted to a more comfortable position on the bench and leaned back with my eyes closed. I should reward myself for getting through that. I hadn’t been to the ice cream parlor since I’d moved home. I’d get a waffle cone with caramel swirl and eat the whole thing where Mom couldn’t watch and criticize my diet.
    But not yet. First I had to get through the police interview and the rest of the day.
    I imagined telling the tall, good-looking officer that I’d lied to him. What would they do to me?
    If I could get through that, I might earn a whole hot fudge sundae.
    I’d stopped shaking, but I couldn’t bring myself to get up yet. I rubbed my fingers over my forehead and temple, trying to ease the lurking tension. In a minute, I’d face the police. I just needed to gear up for it.
    Thwack! A sound like a loud clap exploded near my head. I jumped and almost tumbled off the bench.
    I looked