“Oh, good. I mean, I hope that works out for you.”

  “Eventually, we’ll figure it out. About this phone, though. Do you know the kid who supposedly pinched it? A known troublemaker, Jeanette said—or at least, that’s what she implied. Cutler wasn’t sure what to make of the situation.”

  “He’s in one of my classes. And he’s sort of a wild card. To hear him and our school counselor tell it, he’s more sinned against than sinning. I have to agree there’s no way he could afford that phone himself. Either one of the other kids slipped it to him, or Patricia and Jeanette are correct in their suspicions.”

  “Which do you consider more likely?”

  Darian thought about his briefcase, safely locked in his car. The handheld game was still tucked inside the zippered pocket. Matthias hadn’t shown up to class to retrieve it. Since Jeanette had personally excused him from attending, Darian assumed he’d been speaking to Cutler at the time. Should he convey that little detail to Argo? He did owe his students a certain degree of privacy, not to mention trust. “I haven’t decided. Kim Benedict—the counselor—says it’s perfectly possible he found it, just like he claims.”

  “Cutler said the kid was pretty convincing.” Argo folded the cellophane wrapper from the crackers in half and then lengthwise. “He swore up and down it was left in his bed for him to find. Is this kid popular with the others? Secret admirer, maybe?”

  “He’s not especially well-liked,” Darian admitted. “In fact, if I had to characterize him, I would have said he was kind of an outcast.”

  “A frame job, then? I suppose time will tell. Cutler loves tinkering with electronic devices. He’ll figure out where it came from.”

  Argo’s desk phone rang. When he picked it up, Darian could hear the desk sergeant’s voice saying something about a visitor with information on their accident victim. Argo straightened and tossed the crumpled cracker wrapper into his trash can.

  “Oh, yeah? Send him in.”

  Reluctantly, Darian started to get up. “I should leave you to it,” he said, but Argo motioned for him to wait.

  “Hang on. Since Cutler’s busy, why don’t you sit in? After all, you know Stanton, and you’ve already appointed yourself my unofficial deputy on this case.”

  “Really?”

  “He’s probably come to report another runaway log. All I ask is that you keep anything you hear in this office completely confidential.”

  “Well, sure,” Darian said. Slightly dazed, he sank back into his chair. A few moments later, a gray-haired man of medium build, wearing a brown leather jacket and matching loafers, stepped into the office. One of Argo’s deputies followed him in.

  “Sheriff, this is Osmond Krell,” she said. “He’d like to speak with you about Chester Stanton.”

  “That’s right,” Krell confirmed in a somewhat snappish voice. “I saw Chet’s photo on the internet and came right over. You’re Sheriff Arthur Sullivan, I take it?”

  “Yes, I am. Why don’t you take a seat and we’ll talk?” Argo motioned him into the chair beside Darian’s. The deputy withdrew, closing the door behind her. “This is Mr. Winter,” he said in response to the man’s questioning gaze. “He’s a concerned citizen who’s assisting me in this matter.”

  Krell turned, sized Darian up, and gave him a curt nod of approval. “I didn’t want to call the hotline on the website,” he went on, perching on the edge of his seat. “What I have to say is best conveyed in person. I’ve heard your name…around the community, shall we say, and I understand you’re a man to be trusted.”

  “I hope so.” Fresh interest blazed in Argo’s eyes, and as Darian expected, he got right to the point. “You have information about Chester Stanton? Go ahead, by all means.”

  “Chet and I are friends. Close ones. I brought proof.” Krell reached into his jacket and pulled out a photo, clearly printed from a computer, of himself and Chet standing in front of some trees during foliage season. Krell’s arm lay across Chet’s shoulders, and they stood together in a way that demonstrated exactly what Krell meant by ‘close.’ The pose also explained why Krell had insisted on speaking to Argo in person. Krell paused. “Or maybe I should put that in the past tense, by the looks of what I saw on that news site. I…ah…don’t suppose you’ve located Chet?”

  “I’m afraid not. But we haven’t located a body, either, so there’s that.”

  “Hence the appeal to the public. Forgive me. I suppose I’m not thinking clearly. He’s most likely dead, isn’t he? Swept away down the river.”

  “I try not to jump to conclusions.”

  “But surely after a wreck like I saw on that site…I mean, I’m familiar with that area. Even a strong swimmer wouldn’t have been able to fight such a current. And Chet wasn’t that, not by any means.”

  “Do you have specific knowledge that he went in the river? Or any insight into this situation, for that matter?” Argo’s expression tightened with what Darian recognized as impatience. “If you came here just to find out what we’ve discovered so far, I’m sorry to disappoint you but it’s too soon for me to share such information.”

  Krell didn’t seem to take offense. He refolded the photo and tucked it back inside his jacket.

  “I’m here to provide background, Sheriff, which I believe will be helpful to you. First, I wanted to be sure you grasped the situation.”

  Darian could see why Argo might get frustrated with Krell. What was it about gay guys from Krell’s generation? Too many of them still talked about their relationships like they were shameful secrets, maybe even borderline illegal. What was the big deal, especially when a life might be at stake? Why not just walk in and say he and Chet were dating?

  “Safe to say we both do,” Argo said. He made a show of opening his notebook and choosing a pen from the cup on his desk. “Let’s move forward. How did you two meet?”

  “The computer,” Krell said. “I admit I was skeptical at first, but it’s hard to find people at my stage of life, and I wanted someone to enjoy casual outings with. I like to think I’m in good physical shape for my age, and I’m an outdoorsy type, Sheriff. Now that I’m retired, I enjoy hiking, boating, cross country skiing, and so on. I was tired of pursuing those activities alone, or as part of a group I had no real interest in associating with. So, I figured, why not try advertising for exactly what I’m looking for? Everyone’s doing it nowadays.”

  He stopped, glancing from Argo to Darian as if seeking approval for his decision. Darian decided it was time he spoke. “Makes sense,” he said in what he hoped was a supportive tone.

  “What sites did you use?” Argo asked, and Krell blushed.

  “Nothing sleazy, I can assure you,” he snapped. “It was a perfectly respectable gay dating site catering to a more…mature segment of the community. Chet and I started off with general chitchat about movies, literature, current events. I thought it important to find a man of a compatible educational level, who shared my values. Chet seemed to fit that bill well, even if he wasn’t particularly interested in sports. However, he lived within driving distance and was willing to try new things for my sake. Last fall, we met up in person and went on a simple foliage hike.” He patted his coat pocket. “The photo I showed you was from that day.”

  “So the relationship went well from there,” Argo surmised.

  “For a while, yes. Were things perfect? No. What is? Still, I thought we were building something to last. Let’s face it, neither of us was foolish or inexperienced. Our relationship wasn’t exciting or dramatic, but it was stable and satisfying. Or so I thought.” Krell hesitated, clearly sensing he needed to get to the point, and sighed. “Unfortunately, as promising as online dating may be in theory, the computer not only brought us together. It pulled us apart.”

  Finally, things were getting interesting. Argo made a few more notes, set down his pen, and interlaced his fingers on his desk. Darian recognized the posture. It was exactly what he did in the classroom when a student seemed self-conscious, but was inching toward answering a question. It usually worked in school, and apparently it worked in law enforcement, too. Krell rubbed his forehead as if trying to fight off a headache.

  “Sadly,” he went on without being prompted, “I discovered that Chet wasn’t only talking to me online—it turned out he was on social media all the time. Late into the night, first thing in the morning. Even during his lunch breaks at his job, apparently. Absolutely out of control, especially recently.”

  “So you’re saying he was addicted to the computer.” Argo darted a meaningful glance in Darian’s direction, and Darian grasped his meaning. If Chet had used the Birchwood computers for extracurricular pursuits, the data would likely be stored on the campus system. A search might reveal not only something scandalous, but pertinent to Argo’s investigation.

  “A lot of people are these days,” Krell said. “I can understand it in some cases. Some men our age are just desperately lonely. But why would Chet feel that way? All he had to do was call me.” He hesitated, choked up with emotion. After clearing his throat, he continued. “About two months ago, Chet came to me and said he had developed feelings for another man he’d met online. I admit I was flabbergasted to learn he was still searching, even though things seemed to be going well between us. So he broke it off with me.”

  Argo nodded sympathetically. “You must have been upset.”

  “I pride myself on being mature and philosophical about such things. Who could blame him? This new guy was half his age. I don’t know many men who wouldn’t jump at that opportunity. It hurt, I admit, but I wished him well and moved on.”

  “So you’re seeing someone else as well?”

  “No. If I had been, I probably wouldn’t be here now, would I?”

  His observation struck Darian as a non sequitur. Argo must have felt the same, because he jotted something down in his notebook. “Can you tell me about this new person Chet was seeing?”

  “Seeing might be too strong a word,” Krell sputtered. “As far as I know, they never met in person. The man was in the military, you see. Stationed overseas.”

  Argo made another mark in his notebook. “Overseas, huh?”

  “Yes. Beyond that, I didn’t ask. No name. Couldn’t stand to hear it, if you want the truth. Chet said he was deployed to some hot, miserable place where creature comforts and even food were hard to come by. I’m not sure even Chet knew the exact location. Classified, he said.”

  “When did you last talk to Chet?”

  “A few days ago. We did keep in touch, strictly as friends.” Krell snorted. “Apparently he thought he owed me that much.”

  “You spoke in person?”

  “No. Email. I don’t want to sound bitter, Sheriff, but listening him wax poetic about his amazingly handsome and insufferably young new suitor was more than I could handle.”

  “Are you suggesting a connection between Chet’s online activities and his apparent accident?”

  Krell’s posture stiffened. “I hope I’ve made it clear that I have no idea. I also assume you can see the source of my concern. If Chet was meeting people online, he could have been the target of violence. An overseas romance may be emotionally satisfying, but we all have immediate physical needs as well. He obviously had no qualms about continuing his…ah…digital pursuits while leading me to believe we were in an exclusive relationship. Who’s to say he didn’t make arrangements behind this soldier’s back, too?” Suddenly he paused and his expression changed. “Wait a minute. Did you say apparent accident?”

  “Yep. I’m still exploring whether Mr. Stanton left the vehicle before it went down the embankment. Maybe wandered off, disoriented. It’s also possible he was never in the driver’s seat at all. Can you think of anyone he might have loaned it to?”

  Krell seemed shaken. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Let’s say he did stagger away, injured, right before the car went over the edge. Is there anyone he would have gone to for help? Called to pick him up?”

  “At one time, it would have been me. But not now. Our connection faded to the point where I couldn’t predict what he would do.”

  “Do you know any of his family or other close friends?”

  “There are none that I’ve heard of. He and I are at an age where one tends to be solitary. Either by choice or circumstances.”

  “All right. Let’s shift gears a little. When the two of you emailed each other after you broke up, did Chet mention anything that stood out to you? Was he depressed or planning to make any big life changes?”

  “You think he was suicidal?” Krell’s head snapped up.

  “Until we figure out exactly what happened, I’m exploring all possibilities.”

  “Actually, it’s interesting you should say that. Recently, Chet did imply his new relationship was less than rosy. Is it bad that I felt kind of smug about things going south for him and his love?”

  Argo didn’t answer, but Darian could relate to Krell’s dilemma. He would feel more than a twinge of bitterness if he had been in Krell’s position, listening to Argo blather on about some paramour. A buff rival decked out in camo would be tough to take—as would a tall, tanned dude in Don Johnson pastels with a badge clipped to the belt of his white khakis.

  “Can you be more specific about what went wrong?”

  “It wasn’t anything specific—just little remarks about appearances being deceiving, and people not always being as forthcoming as they should be, things like that. I didn’t press him. No wonder, though, is it? This new guy lived overseas. I’ve never been a fan of long distance relationships. Too much potential for deception or unrealistic expectations. Also too easy to walk away. I consider myself a realist above all else, Sheriff.”

  “Realism isn’t always healthy in a relationship,” Argo said, startling Darian. “I mean, you need a little fantasy sometimes right? Mystery? That’s probably why online dating appeals to people. Not that I would know personally.”

  And you never will, Darian almost blurted out.

  “What can I say? I learned early on in life that it doesn’t pay to play roles.” Krell snorted with disgust. “At this point, I can only be myself. If that wasn’t enough for Chet, there’s nothing I can do. Yes, I’m a bit angry about what he put me through. But I don’t want him to come to any harm, especially at the hands of someone who might have been preying on him via that infernal machine. Hopefully, I’ve been able to give you some useful information, Sheriff. I’ll go now, if it’s all right with you.”

  The three of them stood up. Argo handed Krell his business card. “Get in touch at any time if you hear or think of something else. Oh, just one other thing. Where were you yesterday around dinnertime? Say, four-thirty to six p.m.?”

  Krell’s white brows arced. “As I mentioned, I’m retired. I was home, as I usually am in the evening.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes, though I conducted some online searches. I’m planning some outdoor activities this spring, Sheriff, even if I go alone. Afterward, I ordered some camping gear. My computer will verify that, I assume, if the need arises.”

  Argo offered a dismissive wave. “No worries, Mr. Krell. Routine question. Thanks again for coming forward. Your input is useful.”

  After he left, Darian exhaled heavily. “Wow. Quite a story. What did you think?”

  “I have a few thoughts. First, though, what was your impression of Mr. Krell?”

  Darian blinked. “You’re asking me?”

  “Isn’t that what I just did?” Argo smothered a grin.

  “He struck me as genuine, for the most part. Chet really hurt him, no matter how much he tried to downplay it. The bit about camping alone…poor guy. He was definitely holding back about how just how disappointed he was.”

  “Guaranteed. Guys do. It’s not necessarily suspicious.”

  “Suspicious? Are you saying he might be involved somehow?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you asked him about his whereabouts.”

  “Yep, I did. And I wasn’t lying—that really was routine. But I agree he wasn’t as calm about the breakup as he pretended. Okay, so he came forward and was willing to be questioned. Eager, even.”

  “And that’s a problem?”

  Argo pulled a face. “Sometimes when people are too keen to help, my antennae go up. Sure, he’s worried about his friend. Or so he says. I need to look at all angles.”

  “You think he did something to Chet and staged the accident?”

  “It’s strictly hypothetical. Here are the possibilities I see. One, admittedly the most likely, is that Chet crashed and the river swept him away. Two, he got out of the car and left the scene, either on his own or with someone else assisting—or coercing—him. Three, he was never in the car at all and someone else was driving. Whichever one it was, we need to find him. And fast.”

  “I see what you mean.”

  “The social media angle seems promising. I’ll apply for a warrant so we can go through his computer, but meanwhile we can track down some of his other online friends. Maybe we can ID this supposed military boyfriend.”

  “Supposed? You think Chet made him up?”

  “Seems a little too good to be true, doesn’t he? Maybe Chet fibbed so he could break things off with Krell and play the field. Or maybe Chet staged the accident so he and Soldier Boy could run off and start a new life.”

  “Could it be an insurance scam? Stuff like that shows up on TV.”

  “I’ve seen stranger things in this job.” Argo sank back into his chair and scrubbed a hand over his face. For a moment, he looked overcome with exhaustion.

  “Argo, you need to take a break. How long has it been since you’ve slept or eaten a proper meal?”

  “How many hours since we were at the diner?”

  “Why don’t you come back to my place and lie down for a while? You don’t have to stay all night, and you can leave your phone on beside you the whole time. Don’t you think you’ll be of more use to your team if you’re not hallucinating from sleep deprivation?”