Page 46 of Facing the Enemy
Gage opened the door to Carson’s room, and the kid stood as though expecting me to level him. Who could blame him? His professor had morphed into a horned demon. I studied him in the faint light and detected, even smelled, fear—the sickening inability to perceive what I might do to him.
I longed to build back the trust I’d fractured. “Carson, I apologize for losing my temper. You experienced a cruel, insensitive, unprofessional—”
“Listen, I messed up big-time.” He ran his fingers through dark hair. “I ran because I was scared. I know things ... things I wish I didn’t. I ... don’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”
I forced gentleness into my tone. “Agent Patterson and I can help.”
He blinked. “Maybe. But first I need to tell you the truth. About my story.”
Why couldn’t I have initiated this conversation without dumping rage? “Yes, please. We need to know what happened and why. I’m incredibly confused.”
“We both are,” Gage said. “I’ve worked this case since last July, and your story is the first solid piece of information we’ve had. Part of the content offers an explanation to why Risa’s brother faced a killer.” His voice offered logic amid highly charged emotions.
How often had I shoved a friendly tone into suspects to relax them and urge them to talk? I gave both guys a mental thumbs-up.
“Shall we try again?” My stomach growled audibly. My fault because I refused to stop for food on the drive here.
“I have a Snickers in my backpack if Agent Patterson could get it.”
Gage retrieved the candy bar and handed it to me.
“My favorite. We’re off to a good start.” I ripped the paper off one end and sank my teeth into deliciously sweet chocolate and peanuts. Normally I’d relish every bite. Now I worried it might make me nauseated.
“Carson, your parents are worried sick.” Not the best choice of words considering my whirling stomach. “I’d like your phone to text them. If you agree with the wordage, you can send it.”
He reached for his phone on a beat-up particleboard nightstand and gave it to me. I typed:Mom, Dad, I’m sure I’ve upset you. Sorry. I’m ok. I’ll be home soon.Carson read the message and sent it to his parents. He replaced his phone on the nightstand.
“I saw no reason to tell them you’re with an FBI agent and me,” I said. “When we’re back in Houston, you can tell them, or we’ll tell them together. Whatever works best.”
We took the same seats as before, but my attitude had taken a refresh. Professionalism in the conversation was imperative or I’d lose him for good. I really wanted to record the conversation, but I also risked Carson refusing to speak up. “I imagine you and Agent Patterson talked a little.”
He nodded, his lips quivering. “He said you were hurting about your brother’s death, and my story made me look like the bad guy. I didn’t drive the car ... but I saw who did. The whole thing.”
Then who killed Trenton? I reined in my questions to keep Carson comfortable. “Losing my brother has been extremely difficult. After his passing, I resigned from the FBI and returned to teaching. Your story and taking my class weren’t a coincidence, right?”
“No, ma’am.” Carson scrubbed his hand over his cheek. “Listen, I gotta have your and Agent Patterson’s word about something. Just telling you what I saw puts my mom and baby brother in danger. I’mnot a fool, and I know you have to report this stuff, but I’m begging you to please wait until you arrest the guy. Promise you can keep my mom and brother safe.”
What kind of trouble had he gotten himself into? I dipped my chin at Gage.
“I assure you,” Gage said. “If what you are about to tell us places them in danger, the FBI can protect them. What about your dad?”
“Stepdad. Everyone thinks he’s my real dad. My father died a long time ago. Don’t remember him. Mom remarried when I was seven.” Bitterness laced Carson’s tone.
“You and your stepdad have problems?” I said.
He shrugged. “My end anyway. We got along great until about a year ago.” He drummed his fingers on his ripped, jean-clad knee. “I’ll start there. And you promise my mom and brother will be safe?”
“Yes,” I said. “Agent Patterson gave you his word, and I’ll do whatever it takes on my end.”
Carson took a long drink from a water bottle on the nightstand. “Dad, Ethan—I don’t know what to call him.”
“Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”
He hesitated before continuing. “He used to be my dad. Still is no matter what he’s done, no matter how much I want to hate him.” He bit into his lip. “I must sound like a kid.”
“You sound like a young man who’s afraid his dad is mixed up in a horrible crime.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Dad started to change after my high school graduation. At first, I thought Mom being pregnant had him paranoid ’cause he had to know where we were every minute of the day. When Caleb was born, he nagged my mom about leaving the house with the baby.”
