Page 55 of Haunted

Van Hoek writes it down without any change in her face at all.

“And your reason for meeting Ms. Cadwalader?”

“She wanted to discuss a personal matter. She believed she had information about my father. I never knew him.”

Van Hoek makes a note. “And you believe this could be connected?”

Jonny is quiet for a beat. “I don’t know. Maybe she told him she was going to tell me, and he wanted to keep her quiet. Or maybe it’s nothing to do with that. I don’t know who he is. She hadn’t given me a name yet.”

“We’re going to look at every angle, Mr. Bishop,” Van Hoek says. “I should tell you that there was a similar incident in the next county about three months ago—a woman attacked on a walking trail, also struck from behind. Fortunately, she survived. We’re already checking local CCTV and comparing the two cases.”

I see Jonny’s shoulders drop fractionally, and I understand it—it means they already have a trail, and somebody is already walking it. I don’t have the heart to tell him that a man who hits a woman from behind on a foggy morning and a man who hits the right woman on a foggy morning can look identical from where the police are standing.

“Mr. Bishop, I’m going to need the clothes you’re wearing,” Van Hoek says. “Do you live far?”

Jonny hesitates and looks toward the road, and it reads like every young Marine who’s just come back from his first combat experience and is terrified of being alone for the next few hours.

“He can use my place, ma’am,” I say. “It’s the building right there. Two minutes on foot. Maybe three. Is it alright if we finish our interview there, detective?”

She nods. “Fine. We’ll just be in the way here. My partner and I can drive you there, if you like.”

Jonny looks at his shoes.

I made my bed this morning, and I’m grateful that there are some habits the Marines drilled into me. My studio apartment is spotless when these three strangers walk into it for the first time. I put a sweatshirt and a pair of my sweatpants on the end of the mattress and point him at the bathroom, and he goes without a word, and neither of us mentions that we’ve swapped clothes before.

Van Hoek waits until the door shuts.

“And you, Mr. Broussard. Can you remember the dates you saw this woman before?”

“Sunday morning and Friday morning, walking the trail. She wasn’t dressed for jogging. That’s all I noticed about her.”

“And she didn’t speak to you?”

“No. I just moved back to town a few weeks ago. I assumed she was a regular at the park.”

I answer her the way I’d answer a debrief—short, clean, in order. I put ma’am at the end of every sentence.

Jonny comes out in my clothes with his own bundled in his arms and hands them over without being asked. He sits at the table next to the window, with his back to my bed, and stares at the kitchen area. Van Hoek takes the seat facing it. The other detective takes a call, and then excuses himself, so I sit at the foot of my bed and listen as he repeats his story one last time while she takes notes.

At long last, she sets her pen down. “That seems to be about everything I need for now.” She gestures at the bag of clothes Jonny shed in the bathroom. “This is mostly going to be for elimination.”

“So I’m not a suspect?” Jonny asks.

She turns to me. “As a witness, we’ll likely want to talk to you again, and I’m going to need you both at the station later today for prints and DNA. Elimination purposes.”

“Done,” I say. “We’ll be there. Anything you need.”

Jonny glances at me. “I’m not going anywhere for a while. How long will you need me here for?”

I try not to let my sadness break through. Van Hoek shrugs. “I can’t legally advise on that, but these things can get lengthy. You’d likely have to travel back to testify if it goes to court. You might want to get comfortable here.”

“But I didn’t see anything.”

“You’d be surprised,” she says.

“One more small matter, now there’s no recording.” She has her hand on the doorknob. “I noticed your driver’s license expired last year, Mr. Bishop. I appreciate you’ve been living abroad. I’d rather not have to notice it twice.”

“Oh. I—” Jonny stops. He looks, for the first time all morning, entirely out of his depth.