Page 99 of The Boy from Half Moon

“I found Josiah in the loft after it happened. Then I took him to clean up,” I said. “He was bleeding from his butt, so we rinsed his clothes because he didn’t have any other clothing to wear.”

“What were these items of clothing?” he asked. “How many pieces?”

“It didn’t work,” I replied.

“What didn’t work?” he pressed. “Cleaning the clothes?”

“The blood wouldn’t come out of his holy garment. He wore white like all of us boys,” I explained. “Even the jeans wouldn’t clean up.”

“So what did you two do, then?”

“I went to David’s tree house because I remembered seeing extra clothes there,” I said, trying to recall what I’d seen. “I took those and gave them to Josiah.”

“But you told me your brother is only twelve or thirteen. And the report here states that Josiah is sixteen.”

“And that’s true, but David is big like me, and Josiah is small. David’s clothes fit him perfectly,” I said.

“Josiah hasn’t made a statement to any of that,” he said, standing upright and moving his hand to his chin, appearing like he was in deep thought.

“There are other boys,” I stated. “Josiah also mentioned seeing other boys coming from the barn in tears. He thought punishment happened there,” I added.

Tate looked at me. “He was right, dontcha think?” he said, sitting back down. “I need everything you have, Luke. Even if you think the detail is too small, I want it, and I don’t care how it makes you look, so don’t hide anything.”

I heard his words, but they weren’t the ones I needed to hear. “Do you still love me?” I asked, almost pleading with him to love and believe me.

His hand came across the table, ignoring the camera. “I made a promise to love you, Luke. Nothing will change that. And I do not for one second think you killed Franklin Smith. Not a single second. But until this is over, you’re stuck with the man in front of you.”

“Even if you scare me?” I asked. “Even if I don’t like this Tate?”

“Even if I say and do the meanest shit you can imagine, I need you to swallow your personal feelings,” he stated. “The defense attorney you see right now is not the true me.” He squeezed my hand and looked directly into my eyes. “This is me, the man you love, getting the man I love out of jail.”

“Okay,” I mumbled.

“My job is to protect you, my love. Let me do my job and I promise you’ll get the real me back.”

“And you love me still?”

“Always, Luke. Always.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE: Tate

“That didn’t happen,” Josiah said, sticking to whatever he’d previously told the investigators. “Luke is lying. He hated Franklin, so he’s lying.”

I glanced at Alec standing in the corner. He seemed pleased his star witness was sticking to the script. But Alec was lazy. I knew that from working with him. He wasn’t good at follow-through or staying on top of cases that produced reams of paperwork, hundreds of emails, and meticulous notes, so I safely assumed he hadn’t read squat. I would have my answer shortly.

“Let’s talk about the pump house, Josiah. What can you tell me about that?” I asked, staying focused on him instead of the rest of the onlookers in the crowded space.

“We get water from a well there,” he answered. “Same as most people.”

Josiah had an edge about him that Luke lacked. He’d also been raised on the ranch, so I wondered why. “You’ve never been inside the pump house?” I asked, looking at a statement he’d made last week after I’d convinced the Sheriff’s office to conduct another search based on my discoveries. “You didn’t go there with Luke Oliver to rinse out clothing after Franklin Smith raped you?”

Josiah’s parents flinched, bowing their heads. I’d warned them ahead of time that the questioning could be rough, but they insisted on being in the room, not on the other side of a two-way mirror.

“Franklin never did what you just said,” Josiah whispered.

“Speak up, please.”

“Franklin was a man of God, mister. He wouldn’t do nothin’ like that.”

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