Walking Shadows. Faye Kellerman
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of property—federal property—to murder—”
The kid jumped out of his seat. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
“I believe you, Dash.” The kid was quiet. “Come on. Sit back down.”
The kid cooperated.
“Tell me what you know about it.”
More sweat on his pimply forehead. “Sir, I don’t know anything about a dead body.”
Decker looked at Lennie and gave her a slight eye roll. “Dash, I think you’re a good kid. You’re the first one who came in to talk to us. And that’s why you’ll get leniency if you start telling me what really happened. If you don’t talk, you’ll force my hand. Then I go over to the next interview room, where my colleague is making the same offer to Chris Gingold.”
“I don’t need an offer.” He bounced his leg up and down. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Okay, you didn’t do anything. Tell me what you know.”
“I know my rights. I can ask for a lawyer.”
“I haven’t charged you with anything. But if I do charge you and you get a lawyer, he or she is going to tell you the same thing. Start talking. It’s your best chance. Otherwise all of you will be charged with murder. You were on the tape; you were all there.”
“If there really is a tape, then you’d know that we had nothing to do with it.”
Decker’s thoughts whirled around for a split second. “How would I know that?”
A long pause. “That’s all I got to say.”
Decker sighed. “I’m a good guy, Dash, so I’m going to be honest with you. And it’s just between you and me.”
The kid was silent.
“There are gaps in the tape. We can see you swinging at the mailboxes, but we didn’t get a clear picture of what happened to the body.”
“Then you have no evidence against me.”
“We have circumstantial evidence. We have you boys swinging at anything upright, and with a track record like yours, it’ll carry weight. It doesn’t take a whole lot of smarts to infer what else you did with those baseball bats.”
“I didn’t kill anyone.” His voice cracked.
“I believe you, son. But you’re not giving me much to work with.”
The wheels were turning in his peabrain. “What happens to me if I tell you that we saw the body and then we all got spooked and took off?”
“Is that the truth?”
Harden nodded.
“You need to answer yes or no for the tape. Did you see the body while you were on Canterbury Lane while you and your friends were vandalizing mailboxes?”
The kid nodded again.
“Dash, you need to answer yes or no.”
“Yes. Okay … okay.” He exhaled, sighed, exhaled again. “We were … you know.”
“I do know, but you need to tell me for the tape.”
“Having a little fun.”
“What do you mean by having a little fun, Dash?”
“Okay … okay. We were just, you know …”
“Dash, let’s get this moving. Just say what you were doing, okay?”
“Whopping down mailboxes. I mean, it’s no big deal. It’s not like we were busting headlights or something.”
Decker had had calls about busted head- and taillights. Be easy to goad him into talking about that, but right now, all he cared about was Brady Neil. “Go on.”
“Life is so fucking boring! My mom smokes pot all the time, my stepdad drinks, and whenever they get mad or drunk or stoned, which is all the time, I’m the fucking punching bag. And don’t tell me to go to Social Services. I’ve smoked that doobie. It’s useless. I got no choice but to live at home. I get a bed, food, and heat in the winter. I’m working toward a car. Once I get a set of wheels, I’m never coming back.”
“You won’t have a job if the courts find out what you’ve been doing.”
“Meaning I’m fucked no matter what.”
“Not necessarily, Dash. If you promise to stop whacking the mailboxes, you can walk out of here. But, first, you have to tell me about the dead body.”
Harden looked down. “I saw it first—at the corner house with the woods in back.” His eyes got a faraway look. “Scared the shit out of me. I came back and told the bros and we all went over to look. Then we heard something and took off.”
“Heard what?”
“I dunno. It sounded like it was coming from the woods. We just took off.”
“What time was this?”
“Around three.”
“Three in the morning? As in today?”
“Yeah.”
“Could you identify the body?” No answer at first. “Dash, do you know who the dead—”
“Yeah, Brady Neil.”
“You knew that the body was Brady Neil?”
“Not at first. When I got there, the body was lying facedown. Riley turned him over.”
“Why’d he do that?”
“To see who it was. To see if he was alive. He wasn’t. That’s when I saw it was Brady. His head was … caved in.” A long pause. “We took off.”
“How’d you know Brady?”
“Just from hanging around.”
“Did Brady sell you drugs?”
“No.”
“His mom says he had cash. What do you know about that?”
The kid averted his eyes. “Nothing.”
“What do you know, Dash? It’s all going to come out anyway. I might as well hear it from you first.”
“I don’t know anything!”
Decker didn’t speak. He exchanged glances with Lennie. She had been calm throughout the interview and had been taking a lot of notes. If Brady Neil wasn’t a dealer or a poker champ or hadn’t made a lucky bet on the horses, there was only one other way where a kid could get easy cash.
Decker said, “By any chance, did Brady pay you for stolen property?”
“No. I never stole nothing.”
Most probably a lie. Decker said, “Did Brady pay you to fence stolen property?”
“It wasn’t stolen.” Dash realized his mistake and shut his mouth.
“What kind of stuff did he ask you to fence?”
“It wasn’t stolen.”
“What was it, first of all?”
“Shitty stuff—mostly old and broken electronics. Told us he got it dumpster diving.”
“What kind of electronics?”
“Old phones, laptops, and broken game systems. There’s a market for that—recycling old shit. I went where he told me, met a guy on the street, and gave him the crap. A couple of days later, Brady slipped me some cash.”
“How much?”
“Around ten to twenty bucks for the load.”
“Why