In Strange Woods - Claire Cray Page 0,61
time.” Beau pulled James into another quick hug, clapped his back, and stepped back with a grin. “But don’t take too long. I’ll be waiting.”
“I know. I won’t.” James watched him turn and head to the other side of the bridge, sweeping his steps as he went. “Hey, how’d you come from the other side?”
“Oh,” Beau said, turning back. “I was waiting under the bridge for you. Wasn’t sure if you’d bring company or not. I was climbing up to meet you when fuck-nuts showed up, so I hopped across underneath.”
James smiled. “Smooth.”
“Stick around, I’ll teach you all the moves.” Beau laughed. “Later, James.”
“Bye, Beau.” James watched him turn and disappear into the trees.
* * *
It took twenty minutes to get close enough to Port Orton to get a cell signal. He pulled into a small county park and boat launch beside the Silky River to do what he had to do. First, he called 911 for police at Bone Creek Bridge, promising to stay where he was and await further instructions. Then he called his Uncle Lawrence, Bryce’s seventy-six-year-old brother, to please send him a lawyer immediately—someone local and someone good. Finally, while he waited for the police to show up, he called Hunter. As promised.
“Hey,” Hunter answered. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” James was surprised by his own reaction to Hunter’s voice, the way his body tightened with an instant desire to see him. “Something happened, but I’m okay. I think I’ll be in Port Orton for a while. Probably at the police station. Probably late.”
“Shit.” Hunter lowered his voice. “You in trouble, or somebody else?”
“It’s complicated. I can uh, call you when I’m out, if you want.”
“Yeah. Anything I can do?”
“No. Thanks.” James swallowed hard. The whole world felt strange and new since Domino showed up, since Beau appeared, and he wasn’t sure what his emotions were going to do. “I should go. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay. Hang in there, alright?”
“Thank you. Bye.” James hung up and slouched against the car, closing his eyes.
At the Port Orton Police Station, he was ushered into an empty meeting room with wood paneled walls and burnt-orange furniture from the Seventies. After the police verified who he was and what case they were dealing with, they began to treat him with a somber kind of respect. But nothing could ease the misery of being in a police station again. The ambience was nothing like NYPD headquarters, but it still took him back to the aftermath of the murders, the hours staring blearily into space while detectives and lawyers bustled around him.
It was going to be a long, miserable afternoon.
After three hours his new lawyer arrived from Portland, a sharp-suited, silver-haired, eagle-eyed man who looked at him with instant sympathy. “James, I’m David Sully,” the lawyer said, shaking his hand before sitting at a small table near James. “You can just call me Sully. You look exhausted.”
James nodded dully.
“Well, let’s get to it.” Sully opened a laptop and readied himself to take notes. “And get you out of here as fast as we can. Can you fill me in on what happened out there?”
“Yeah.” James took a deep breath and filled Sully in on everything that had happened on the bridge, albeit with the creative liberties he’d decided on earlier. He took several tangents to disclose what else had been going on. He told Sully about the property he’d inherited; being mistaken for Beau, and his conversation with Officer Brady; about his interactions with Hunter, and the time spent at his house; and about Isaac’s arrival the night before, and the information he’d shared.
As Sully listened intently, James talked him to the point when he had realized Domino was the murderer. Then, to his own surprise, his throat knotted up and he couldn’t find his voice. The thought of Domino striking Robin like that—snapping—and leaving him to die that slow, helpless death while he crept through the other rooms…
“Let’s come back to his confession,” Sully said kindly. “Focus on the confrontation. How did he fall off the bridge?”
James’s hands shook as he reached up to rub his tired, stinging eyes. It took him a while, but he dutifully finished the story. It wasn’t hard at all to pass Beau’s actions off as his own. In his mind, they were so closely connected that the difference was indistinguishable.
Domino deserved to die, and there had been no way around it. James didn’t expect to shed any tears on his behalf. But when he finally finished talking, he