Chương 8
Carter rubbed his wrists against the restraint chain. “Can we not do lawyer language for one minute?”
“No,” Vale said.
Ruiz leaned forward. “Mr. Carter Dennis, you requested this meeting. No promises have been made. If you choose to speak, your statements may be used in the investigation. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell us what happened at the storage facility.”
Carter looked at Finnley.
Finnley did not help him.
“The night Dad disappeared,” Carter began, “he called Reagan and told her to meet him at Unit 108. I heard the call because I was in her office. She told me to stay home.”
“But you followed,” Ruiz said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I thought she was going to convince him not to expose the accounts.”
“Which accounts?”
“All of them. His, ours, the transfers under Finnley’s name.”
Ruiz asked, “At that time, did you know Finnley was innocent?”
Carter’s gaze dropped. “Yes.”
Finnley’s chair creaked beneath him.
Carter continued before anyone could speak. “I parked outside the fence. Reagan had the gate code. Unit 108 was open. They were arguing.”
“About what?”
“Dad had copied everything. He said he was going to the police in the morning and would accept whatever happened to him.”
Finnley pictured Camden beneath the orange facility lights, yellow pencil behind his ear, having finally reached courage after it was too late to save his son from the first years of prison.
“Reagan said he was destroying the family,” Carter said. “Dad told her she’d already done that.”
“Then what happened?” Ruiz asked.
“She tried to take the recorder. He pulled away. She shoved him.”
Vale placed a hand on Carter’s arm. “Be precise.”
“I am.”
“Did you see contact?”
“Yes.”
“With one hand or both?”
“Both, I think. It happened fast.”
Carter swallowed. “Dad fell backward. There was a metal hand truck behind him. He hit his head on the edge.”
Finnley stared at the tabletop.
“He was alive,” Carter said. “At first. He was breathing.”
“Did you call emergency services?” Ruiz asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Carter’s mouth opened, then closed.
Reagan had stepped into the unit. She saw Carter and ordered him to help. They put Camden into the back seat of her car. Carter believed they were driving to a hospital until she passed the turn.
“Where did she take him?” Ruiz asked.
“A vacant building near Lake Mercer. One of the company properties.”
“Was he still alive?”
“Yes.”
Finnley’s head lifted.
Carter’s eyes filled but no tears fell. “He woke up once. He asked for water. Reagan said we couldn’t risk a hospital until we decided what to say. She kept telling me his accounts would ruin all of us. She said if he woke up properly, he’d blame her and go to the police.”
“How long was he in the building?” Ruiz asked.
“Most of the night.”
“And you did nothing?”
Carter looked at Finnley. “I brought him water.”
Finnley rose so quickly that Nora caught his wrist.
“You brought him water?”
Carter recoiled.
“He needed an ambulance, and you brought him water?”
“I know.”
“No, you know now. In there, you knew how to save yourself.”
Vale said, “We need a break.”
Finnley leaned across the table. “Did he say my name?”
Carter’s lips trembled.
“Answer me.”
“Yes.”
The room seemed to narrow around the word.
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether you were safe.”
Finnley’s knees nearly failed.
Nora guided him back into the chair.
Carter stared at the restraint chain. “In the morning, he wasn’t breathing. Reagan called someone who worked for one of our demolition contractors. Victor Salas. He owed her money. They wrapped Dad in a tarp and put him in a utility trailer.”
“Where?” Ruiz asked.
“I don’t know exactly. Victor drove. Reagan followed. I was supposed to go with them, but I couldn’t.”
“So you went home,” Finnley said.
“Yes.”
“Took a shower?”
Carter did not answer.
“Did you sleep?”
“No.”
“Did you eat breakfast?”
“Finnley,” Nora said.
“I want to know.”
Carter whispered, “Cereal.”
The ordinary word landed harder than anything else.
Finnley imagined Camden dead beneath a tarp while Carter stood in their bright kitchen pouring milk into a bowl.
“What kind?” he asked.
Carter began to cry then, quietly and without covering his face.
“I don’t remember.”
“You remember.”
“Corn flakes.”
Finnley looked away.
Ruiz asked how Carter knew where the body had been taken if he did not follow. Carter explained that Victor called him two days later, frightened and demanding more money. Carter met him at a gas station. Victor said he had buried Camden beneath a foundation scheduled to be poured at the Lake Mercer property.
The building had since been completed.
It was an affordable senior housing complex with sixty-four occupied apartments.
The practical consequences entered the room one after another. Investigators could not simply tear up a building. Engineers would have to examine the plans. Residents might need to be relocated. A search would require more than Carter’s statement, particularly because he was negotiating for leniency.
Ruiz asked about supporting evidence.
Carter said Victor kept photographs.
“Why?” Ruiz asked.
“Insurance.”
“Against Reagan?”
“Against all of us.”
“Where is Victor now?”
“Mexico, I think. Maybe Arizona. I don’t know.”
Ruiz closed her folder.
Vale asked to discuss the terms of cooperation.
Finnley stood.
Carter said, “Please don’t leave.”
Finnley faced him.
There had been a time when Carter followed him everywhere. Through woods, across roofs, into half-renovated apartments where Camden warned them not to step on exposed nails. Carter copied the way Finnley rolled his sleeves and pretended to like black coffee because Finnley did. When their mother died, Finnley slept on the floor of Carter’s room for three weeks because Carter woke crying and refused to admit it.
Reagan entered their lives the following year.
She offered structure, manners, and an easier way to earn Camden’s approval. Carter learned quickly.
May you like
Finnley looked at the beige jail uniform, the bruise, the wet face.
“Did you ever plan to tell me?” he asked.
