Chương 6
The wall in that room had the same exposed conduit as the photograph.
I turned toward the elevators.
Then I heard Sarah behind me.
“Don’t.”
She stood halfway down the corridor.
The nurse waited beside the recovery doors.
“I’m not leaving.”
“You were.”
I looked at her.
She came closer.
“If you walk out of this hospital, I’m not chasing you.”
“I said I’m staying.”
“Say why.”
I almost told her because Tyler needed me.
That was true.
It was also not the truth she was asking for.
“Because Price needs a chance to do her job.”
Sarah’s shoulders loosened slightly.
“And because?”
I looked at the phone.
“Because whoever sent that picture may want me at the courthouse.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
It was not forgiveness.
It was enough.
Tyler woke confused.
He tried to lift his legs twice and became angry when they did not move the way he expected.
A recovery nurse explained the epidural and medication.
He cursed at her.
Then apologized.
Then cursed again.
Sarah cried quietly while pretending to adjust his blanket.
I sat near his shoulder.
“Hey.”
Tyler turned his head.
His pupils were huge.
“Did I miss practice?”
The nurse looked at me.
Sarah covered her mouth.
“No practice tonight.”
“Coach is gonna kill me.”
“He’ll survive.”
Tyler frowned.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
I looked down at my work shirt.
“Fashion.”
His mouth twitched.
Then his expression changed.
“I got shot.”
“Yes.”
“Barnes.”
“Yes.”
His breathing sped.
“He had her.”
I leaned closer.
“Who?”
“The girl.”
“Emily?”
He stared at me.
“You know?”
“We know she’s missing.”
“No.”
His hand caught my wrist.
“You know she was there?”
“Tyler, slow down.”
“He had her.”
“Did you see her face?”
“I saw her hair.”
“What color?”
“Brown.”
Emily’s hair was brown.
Half the girls in town had brown hair.
“What else?”
“Her shoes.”
“What about them?”
“Red.”
That mattered.
The missing-person post Sarah had shown me once while scrolling through the school parents’ page included a photograph of Emily leaving work.
Red canvas sneakers.
“Where was Barnes parked?”
“By Miller Road.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
Tyler’s eyes moved past me.
“I don’t know.”
“Think about the truck.”
“Dad.”
“I need—”
“He shot me.”
The words came out small.
I stopped.
Sarah touched my shoulder.
Tyler’s hand loosened.
“I’m sorry.”
He looked away.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t have to.”
His chin trembled.
“I don’t want to remember it.”
I sat back.
The recovery nurse adjusted his IV and told us he needed rest.
I watched Tyler’s eyelids lower.
Within minutes his breathing softened.
Sarah sat on the other side of the bed.
For a while we did nothing.
A blood pressure cuff inflated around Tyler’s arm.
A cart rattled past outside.
Someone in another room asked repeatedly for ice chips.
My phone vibrated.
Marcus.
I silenced it.
Sarah saw.
“Answer.”
“Later.”
“Answer.”
I stepped into the hallway.
Marcus did not bother with hello.
“Your sheriff has problems.”
“So I’ve gathered.”
“No, I mean financial ones.”
“What kind?”
“Enough that I don’t want to tell you anything until I know where it came from.”
“Then why call?”
“To stop you from assuming this is simple.”
“I stopped assuming that an hour ago.”
“Barnes refinanced his house twice in four years.”
“That’s not a crime.”
“No.”
“He has gambling debt?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying there are civil judgments under a company registered to his brother-in-law.”
“What company?”
“Front Range Municipal Consulting.”
“Never heard of it.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“Why?”
“It has contracts.”
“With who?”
“Livingston County.”
I went still.
“For what?”
“Security assessments, evidence storage modernization, records compliance.”
“That sounds like county nonsense.”
“It mostly is.”
“Mostly?”
“One payment caught Luis’s attention.”
“How much?”
“Eighty-four thousand.”
“For what?”
“Emergency facilities remediation.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
I thought of the annex.
“What facility?”
“Invoice doesn’t say.”
“Can you get it?”
“We’re trying.”
“Marcus.”
“Dennis.”
“Don’t hack anything.”
He laughed.
“That’s comforting.”
“I mean it.”
“We’re old, not stupid.”
“You were always both.”
“Fair.”
His voice changed.
“Something else.”
“What?”
“Your sheriff called somebody in Denver four times tonight after the shooting.”
“How do you know?”
“I said I’m not telling you until I verify it.”
“Then stop giving me pieces.”
“I’m giving you enough to keep you from doing something reckless.”
“That strategy has never worked on me.”
“Dennis, somebody tied to Barnes is moving fast.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Find out.”
“I’m trying.”
The line clicked dead.
When I went back into Tyler’s room, Sarah was staring at her phone.
“What now?”
“Nothing.”
She turned the screen toward me.
A local news alert filled the display.
LIVINGSTON COUNTY SHERIFF INVOLVED IN SHOOTING OF TEEN AFTER ALLEGED ARMED CONFRONTATION.
I read the first paragraph.
Barnes’s office claimed Tyler had ignored repeated commands and reached toward his waistband.
The statement described Barnes as having acted “in defense of his life and the safety of the community.”
There was no mention of a missing girl.
No mention of the disabled cameras.
No mention that no weapon had been recovered.
Sarah whispered, “They’re making him the criminal.”
I read further.
The sheriff’s office had released Tyler’s juvenile arrest history.
One incident.
A misdemeanor shoplifting charge from when he was fifteen.
He and two friends had stolen energy drinks on a dare.
The case had been diverted and sealed.
My hands tightened around the phone.
“How did they get that?”
Sarah looked at me.
“How did they release that?”
I called Price.
She answered immediately.
“Tell me you’ve seen the statement.”
“I’ve seen it.”
“They released a sealed juvenile case.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“We’re finding out.”
“That information shouldn’t be public.”
“No.”
“Barnes is on leave.”
“Yes.”
“So who authorized this?”
“That is one of several questions I am asking.”
I looked through the glass at Tyler sleeping.
“They’re poisoning him before he can speak.”
“I know what they’re doing.”
May you like
“You keep saying you know.”
“And you keep confusing knowing with having admissible proof.”
