Darian finally dared to meet Argo’s eyes. The cautionary gleam in them silenced him.

  “Let’s leave all that aside for a moment,” he continued, flipping through his little notebook. “Where does Vaughan Benedict fit in? Because we know he does.”

  Graham shrugged. “One day Ozzy and I were talking to Matthias about it at the jam session. Mr. Benedict overheard us. I was afraid we’d get in big trouble, but he didn't get mad. Instead, he told Matthias he wanted in on it. Matthias said sure. Why not?”

  “They started working together?” Darian asked, horrified. He should have expected it, based on what Argo had shown him, but hearing Graham describe it all so casually chilled him. Would his students have seen him as an easy target, too, under the right conditions?

  “Mr. Benedict said he needed money to get his next video off the ground. He’d read about this kind of thing in a magazine. He decided to see if it would work for him. Matthias was getting tired of the game anyway. So he stopped writing to Chet. Then Vaughan wrote to him instead, posing as the FBI. Who would believe that, anyway? Like Ozzy said, the guy was so gullible, he deserved to be taken for a ride.”

  “Was Kim—Mrs. Benedict—aware of any of this?” Argo asked.

  The three boys looked at one another. “Not sure,” Ozzy said. “We don't think so.”

  “I didn’t know,” Jordan insisted once again.

  “Okay, I guess we’re done here for the moment. One more question. We still haven’t found Matthias’s laptop, which obviously would go a long way toward confirming some of what you’ve told us. Do any of you know where it is?”

  “Nope,” Graham said. “We told you. He probably took it with him when he ran away. Wouldn’t anyone do the same, if it had incriminating information on it?”

  “You already searched my room,” Jordan reminded them. “You found nothing, remember? And he hasn’t been back there.”

  “He’s halfway to Boston or New York by now,” Ozzy said. “Who can blame him? He’d feel way more at home in either place than at Birchwood. And it’ll be nearly impossible to find him in a city.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” Argo said. “All right. Thanks for your help. I do want to warn you, though, I might be back with more questions. If you’ve left anything out, now is the time to tell me.”

  “Be our guest,” Ozzy said. “We have nothing to hide.”

  “And we’ll consult with our family lawyers, of course,” Graham added. “Just so you know, my dad retains some of the best in the business. People as important as he is get accused of stuff and sued all the time by people who don’t grasp what they’re getting themselves into. They tend to regret it, though. Just so you know.”

  “Duly noted.” Argo snapped his notebook shut.

  “Graham and Ozzy, enough,” Jeanette said. “You will speak to Sheriff Sullivan with respect. I must also inform you that condoning your friend’s wrongdoing, and making no effort to report it to a responsible adult, amounts to conduct unbecoming in a Birchwood student. Therefore all three of you will be subject to in-house suspension starting now. You are not to leave your dorm except for classes and meals. No extracurricular activities. Officer Brian will be assigned to your floor to make sure you stay put. I’ll have him escort you to your rooms now. Again, you will remain there until further notice.”

  As expected, Ozzy and Graham grumbled, and Jordan protested a great deal more strenuously, but in the end they all submitted to Jeanette’s demands. What choice did they have?

  “I swear I didn’t know about any of it,” Jordan was still saying as Brian herded them back into the hall.

  Chapter 14

  “I talked to Mrs. Benedict for you.” Darian peered through the bars as Matthias paced the cramped space with his arms wrapped around his chest. Nearby, Osmond Krell waited in an identical holding cell. “She’ll be here with a lawyer as soon as she can. Until then, based on what happened last time the sheriff released you, I’m afraid you’re stuck.”

  Matthias cursed under his breath. It was all getting to be too much for him, Darian realized—the two apprehensions, the desperate flight through the woods, and now the mind-numbing boredom and claustrophobia of jail. Krell seemed to be faring only marginally better, though he found solace in belligerence rather than anxiety.

  “You’re stuck all right, kid,” Krell called out. “Police brutality is what this is. When my lawyer gets here, I plan to sue that sheriff’s ass into oblivion. I’ll be happy to wait until Monday morning just to enjoy the look on his face when we serve him the papers.”

  Darian ignored him, and Matthias didn’t even seem to hear what he’d said.

  “I don’t want to wait any more. Tell the sheriff I want to talk to him now.”

  “That’s not a good idea,” Krell shouted. “Always lawyer up, kid. It’s your constitutional right. Don’t they teach civics in that fancy private school you go to?”

  “He’s got a point, Matthias. I’m sure Mrs. Benedict is on her way. These things take time to arrange, especially on a weekend.”

  “I don’t care about any of that. I just want this over with. Go and get the sheriff for me, Mr. Winter. Please.”

  Against his better judgment, Darian did so. He had to admit he was curious about what Matthias might say. Argo was, too, but as always he was careful about protecting his suspect’s rights.

  “Is it true you’re consenting to an interview?” Argo asked Matthias when he arrived at the cell.

  “Yes…but only if Mr. Winter can sit in.”

  “Sure,” Argo said. “Give me a minute to set everything up. You’ll have to sign a waiver. Since you’re an emancipated adult, it will hold up in court if the case ever goes that far. You’re okay with that?”

  “Fine.”

  A few minutes later, the three of them assembled around the dingy conference table Darian had become all too familiar with. Argo brought his notebook with him.

  “Okay, Matthias. Let’s start at the beginning. Tell us about your online activities. People you met on the computer. Pictures you might have sent to them. Anything they might have sent back to you.”

  “I never did stuff like that. I don’t use social media. Don’t like it. Why would I want to sit there and type junk to people I’ve never met and never even want to meet?”

  “Graham and Ozzy tell me different. They say you confided in them about certain arrangements you had with someone you’d met on a chat site. They say you shared snacks you bought with the gift cards this person sent you.”

  “Graham and Ozzy?” Matthias stared, incredulous. “I never told them any such thing. I don’t talk to them at all if I can help it. And I sure as hell never shared my food with them. Why would I? They’re both rich enough to buy their own.”

  “They said you discussed all this at the Benedicts’ house. Mr. Benedict took part in the discussion as well.”

  “They’re lying! I avoided Mr. Benedict as much as possible. Okay, sure, I went to those stupid music lessons, but mostly to please Mrs. Benedict. She got this idea it was good for me to release my stress, or some such crap. Besides, she ordered pizza for us. You know that, Mr. Winter. You were there, too.”

  Darian nodded, unsure if he was allowed to speak and possibly derail Argo’s questioning.

  “But when you were at these pizza parties, you never said a word to either Ozzy and Graham or Vaughan Benedict. Is that what you’re telling me?” Argo pressed.

  Matthias’s cheeks flushed. “We had the usual chitchat, sure. But I was never interested in the same things as Ozzy and Graham. They talk about crap like running their own companies and going to California to surf. Why would I care? I’ll never do either of those things. Don’t even want to.”

  Argo opened his mouth to follow up when Cutler tapped on the interview room door and peeked into the room. “Sheriff, sorry to interrupt, but…”

  “Can’t you handle it? I’m in the middle of something.” Argo got up and closed the door, forcing Cutler back, then returned to his seat with an annoyed grimace.

  “Let’s move forward. What about Jordan? Do you get along better with him?”

  Matthias relaxed. “Jordan’s all right. We have a few classes together, so sometimes we discuss homework, but mostly I stay out of his way. Seems the best way to get by as roommates, you know? It seems to work, because we do okay.”

  “So you never discussed anything regarding computer chat rooms or online gift cards with Jordan? Not even when the two of you were alone in your room, maybe using your laptops to study or watch videos?”

  “I told you, no! Why do you keep asking me the same thing over and over?”

  Cutler tapped on the door again. This time, he stuck his head all the way into the room. “Sheriff, you really need to come now.”

  “In a minute,” Argo barked without looking around. Cutler squirmed awkwardly but finally withdrew. Argo turned his full attention back to Matthias. “I realize you’re upset about everything that’s happened, and I don’t blame you. I’m not going to pretend this isn’t serious, because it is. Still, I don’t believe you acted alone. Mr. Winter and I will see what we can do for you, but our hands are tied until you decide to come clean. If you’re honest with us, you’ll have a lot less to worry about.”

  “I haven’t done anything to come clean about. And I’m not upset. I agreed to talk to you because I was hoping you’d finally believe me. I thought Mr. Winter would stick up for me, along with Mrs. Benedict. But I guess I was just wasting my time.”

  Darian gave up on trying to remain silent. Matthias’s stricken expression and emotion-choked words shamed him into speaking up. Yet he couldn’t offer much in the way of assistance. “Like Sheriff Sullivan said—if you didn’t do anything wrong, you should be fine. But if you know anything at all that can help us to help you, you need to tell us now.”

  Matthias crossed his arms. “I’m done. This was a mistake after all. I want to go back to the cell until Mrs. Benedict gets here. Where is she, anyway? Can you call her again, Mr. Winter?”

  Darian nodded miserably.

  “I can’t believe you’re making all this fuss about some stupid phone,” Matthias grumbled as Argo tucked his notebook into his shirt pocket and got up. Darian watched they two disappear through the interview room’s back door, which led directly to the holding area. Darian waited at the table, drumming his fingers on the scarred surface, unable to tame his jumbled thoughts.

  “Well, he’s doubling down on his story,” Argo said when he returned alone. “He’s still insisting someone slipped that phone into his bed while he was out of his room. And call me crazy, but I’m starting to think he might be telling the truth. What he used it for later is a whole different story. Those open packages we found in his closet seal his fate as far as those gift cards go.”

  “I’ve thought from the beginning we were giving Matthias too much credit. What if we’ve got it backwards? What if Vaughan was behind scamming Chet from the beginning, and brought Matthias into it later, when he needed to take the heat off himself? What if Kim found out somehow—it wouldn’t be the first time a spouse hacked into a burner phone or an email account. We know she’s protective of the kids. Maybe she decided to put a stop to her husband exploiting them.”

  “I had the same thought, but Kim’s alibi is solid. She wasn’t up by the river.”

  “But neither was Matthias—at least not that we can prove. The only person we can definitely place there is Krell.”

  “Who was looking for Chet,” Argo said, leaning wearily against the wall of the interview room. “It always comes back to your librarian, doesn’t it? If only we could figure out what actually happened immediately before and after his car went over the ledge. I mean, maybe Krell and my rescue team couldn’t discover any sign of him because he didn’t want to be discovered. I still say it’s possible, even likely, that he walked away from his accident and is watching all this unfold from afar.”

  “Maybe not from all that far,” Darian said in a burst of inspiration. “What about this—let’s say Krell really did find him after the search. Maybe Chet called him, wanting to explain, and they teamed up to take revenge.”

  “You think they got Vaughan’s number somehow and lured him out there?”

  “Why not? Chet was a research librarian. Finding the phone number of a Birchwood staff member’s spouse would be child’s play for him.”

  Argo rubbed his chin in thought. “Why not invite Krell in here next? He talks a tough game, but he’s probably as eager as Matthias was to get out of that cell for a while. Meanwhile, I’ll apply for a warrant to go through his phone. We tossed it in the property locker when we brought him in, and it can stay right there until Krell or a court gives us permission to review his recent calls.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Come on. Let’s get Cutler started on the paperwork. Considering this might be a murder case, I suspect we can persuade a judge to step away from his Sunday dinner long enough to sign off on an order. Hope you didn’t have any big plans for the rest of your weekend, Darian.”

  “Nope. As long as they’re with you, I’m good.”

  “Glad to hear it. Considering how many ties this case has to Birchwood, I’m grateful for your help. And your idea about Oliver Twist turned out to be right on the money.”

  “Who says literary criticism isn’t a useful skill in the real world?” Darian stood up. Seeing Argo reach for the door to the lobby reminded him of the earlier interruption. “We should find out what Cutler wanted to tell you about a few minutes ago, too.”

  “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about that. I can’t believe he tried to barge in on an official interview. He’d better not have been pestering me because the copy machine jammed or someone broke the coffee pot. You wouldn’t believe what passes for an emergency around here when I’m knee-deep in something else.”

  Cutler had remained outside the door, fidgeting. Next to him stood Rory Zinski. And next to Rory stood another man, whose red eyes and puffy face suggested he’d been crying. Darian stopped short, gaping.

  “What the…?” Argo caught himself just as he was about to crash into Darian.

  “I’m sorry this took so long,” Rory said. “But at least we’re here now. We’ll be happy to explain everything.”

  Darian’s voice sounded miles away, even to his own ears. He half-believed he’d fallen asleep in the interview room and was experiencing a weirdly vivid dream.

  “Chet,” he blurted. “You’re alive!”

  “I tried to tell you,” said Cutler.

  “I can’t apologize enough to you, Sheriff,” Chet said, leaning forward on the conference table and hiding his face in his palms. After excusing Cutler, Argo had simply pivoted and walked back in, motioning for Darian, Rory, and Chet to follow him. “Along with everyone else who spent time, effort, and probably a good deal of money hunting for me.”

  “I can’t deny hiring a search and recovery team to scour a few miles of riverbank doesn’t come cheap,” Argo said, stone-faced. His notebook was out again, though this time it lay closed with his pen beside it. “You could have saved us a lot of hassle if you’d contacted us the same night as your accident, or first thing the next morning at the very least.”

  “I know, I know.” Chet sniffled, wiped his eyes with his fingers, and attempted to meet Argo’s steely gaze. Seated at his left, Rory stared down at his own hands, folded motionless in front of him. “You don’t have to remind me that I really messed up, as the boys at Birchwood might say. Rory, here, certainly said as much.”

  “That’s putting it mildly!” Darian said.

  “The truth was, I was ashamed and afraid. When I heard a man had died at the very spot my car went over…I knew I had to turn myself in. Even so, it took me a few hours to gather my courage and plan what I wanted to say—not just to you, Sheriff Sullivan, but to Jeanette and the others at school. I can only imagine how deeply disappointing my actions will be to everyone there.”

  “Okay, enough of the apology tour,” Argo broke in. “Chet, where have you been for the last four days? And how do you fit into this drama, Mr. Zinski?”

  “Call me Rory, please.” Rory attempted a casual smile, which faded when Argo didn’t respond.

  “I needed some time to get my head together, so I’ve been at Rory’s house, hiding in his guest room. Please don’t blame him. I swore him to total secrecy, using our respective positions at the Birchwood library as leverage to assure his cooperation.”

  “Not that I’m excusing my role in this sorry situation,” Rory added, “but from my perspective, I was trying to protect a colleague and a friend. Chet asked me for help, and I felt obligated to give it to him. I had no idea things would snowball like this.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Argo said. Finally, he opened his notebook. He did it so slowly and deliberately that Darian saw sweat break out on Chet’s forehead. Rory shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Take us back to the day of the accident. I want to hear every detail of what led up to it. Then we’ll figure out who’s to blame for what, and what we can do to make things right…assuming that’s even possible.”

  Chet swallowed hard. “Very well. That day, Thursday, I was feeling quite defeated. I suppose you know about my ill-advised attempts to participate in computer dating. My foolishness cost me dearly. I lost a great deal of self-respect, an even greater amount of money, and a chance for a relationship with a man who, it turns out, genuinely cared for me.”

  “Osmond Krell, you mean,” Darian said.

  “Precisely. Osmond is a decent man, honest to the point of bluntness. I failed to appreciate that at the time, which is another regret I suppose I will always carry with me. We were at the start of a promising, if unexciting, journey, but sadly it wasn’t enough for me. Or should I say, he wasn’t enough for me. I continued to search online, pushing myself just a little further each time. Eventually, I was caught up in a powerful but dangerous fantasy.”