Ty’s room smelled like teenage hormones. His walls displayed posters of basketball stars like Steph Curry and Kyrie Irving. Ellery noticed a laptop computer on the bed, one that cost more money than hers did. Someone in this house had big-time disposable income. “Where did you get that?” she asked Tyreek, who had been following them around the place.
He didn’t get a chance to answer. Dorie spoke instead.
“Hathaway.”
“Yeah?”
Dorie jerked her head to indicate Ellery should join her by Tyreek’s cluttered desk. It held a stack of graphic novels, dragon figurines, mismatched socks, a fork, and a bunch of takeout menus. “Look at that,” Dorie murmured to her.
Ellery followed her gaze to a black-and-white item peeking out from beneath one of the paper menus. It looked like Chloe’s bracelet.
17
When the caller ID read: “U Penn police,” Reed ducked out from his sister’s breakfast table to answer it. “Agent Markham?… It’s Jed Bolden. I got a message here this morning that you wanted to talk to me about an incident with Professor Stone’s car some years ago.”
“That’s right. I was told yesterday that you were the one who responded to the scene?”
“Yes, sir. It was just past ten at night. Professor Stone was working late in his office. A student out jogging saw the blaze and called it in. Someone had poured gasoline on that silver BMW Z20 and then tossed a lit match. No witnesses. At the time, we had cameras at the front of the building, but not at the back where the car was parked in the lot, so we didn’t have much to go on.”
“You never identified the perpetrator?”
“Professor Stone thought it might be one of his students angry about a bad grade. We do occasionally see that sort of thing. A few years ago, a failing student took a fire extinguisher and sprayed it under the door of his teacher’s locked office. Destroyed four grand’s worth of computer equipment.”
“Did you interview the students?”
“We talked to them. They all denied it, of course. We didn’t have anything to prove otherwise, and well…”
“Well, what?”
“Professor Stone didn’t seem all that eager to continue the investigation. He kept saying his insurance would write it off, but of course, they were leaning on us for answers before they’d pay up. I wondered if Professor Stone might have known more about the fire than he wanted to say.”
“You think he set it himself?”
“No, we ruled that possibility out right away. Computer data showed he was in his office working when the car went up. But he has a son, you know, and rumor had it that the kid was struggling with drug addiction at the time. I heard his parents had kicked him out, they were so fed up.”
“Justin,” Reed said, musing to himself. His name kept coming up.
“Right. That was his name. Justin Stone.”
“Did you look into whether he’d set the fire?”
A heavy pause came through the other end. “You mind telling me why you’re asking? I’m happy to cooperate, but it’s a little strange to have the FBI poking around in a property crime fifteen years after the fact.”
“I’m not at liberty to disclose any details. However, I do appreciate any help you can give me.”
“Right. It’s just—I work for the university. So does Professor Stone. He’s got some AI grant about teaching computers to predict economic recession that got a write-up in the papers last year. 60 Minutes came out and interviewed him.”
“You don’t want to make trouble for him.”
“I don’t want to make trouble for myself.”
Ah, Reed thought. There’s something here. “You did look into Justin Stone,” he surmised. “What did you find?”
“A whole lot of nothing,” Bolden admitted finally. “As in, he couldn’t account for his whereabouts at all. But he had a McDonald’s receipt from three blocks away just about three hours before the fire. I checked every gas station in the vicinity to see if he might’ve picked up a can. No one remembered seeing him. But no one could swear he wasn’t there, either. Between you, me, and the lamppost, I figured he did it and his father was covering for him.”
“Okay, thank you.” Reed paused. “What, if anything, do you know about a possible complaint against Professor Stone a few years ago? One by a female student.”
Another long pause. “I heard about it,” Bolden replied at length. “I also heard she made it up.”
“Did you do any investigation into her complaint at the time?”
“No, sir. The Dean of Students told me they’d handle it.”
“What did you think about that request?”
“What did I think? I think Professor Stone’s grant is more than a million dollars a year. That buys you your own personal investigation by the special committee.”
“Does it also buy you a particular outcome?”
“I don’t get to ask those questions,” answered Bolden. “But you go right ahead.”
Reed thanked the man for his time and candor and then hung up the phone. It rang again immediately in his hands. He braced himself when he saw Sarit’s name on the screen. “Hello, Sarit,” he said through gritted teeth as he answered.
“Hello. Just checking in to make sure you’re not dragging our child into any other police investigations. How is Tula?”
“She’s fine. Would you like to say hello?”
“Yes, please.”
Reed found his daughter with her cousins, Renee and Callie, dancing in their pajamas and singing along to Taylor Swift. Reed was a tad alarmed to note his seven-year-old appeared to know all the lyrics. “It’s Mama,” he said over the din as he handed her the phone. He motioned for Renee to cut the music. “Come give me the phone when you’re done,” he told Tula.
“Mama, guess what? I’m at Auntie Kimmy’s house!”
Reed winced as he left the room, knowing he would get an earful about this later. Sarit was an only child to older parents who had long ago passed on. She had cousins in India she had met a few times, but stateside he and Tula were her family. She had always been intimidated by Reed’s ever-expanding brood of relatives and the way they were enmeshed in one another’s lives, whereas Reed relished the sense of belonging he felt whenever they were together, even if it did get noisy or uncomfortable at times. He wanted to give that same grounding to his daughter, the knowledge that there was a small army of Markhams on her side, ready to pick her up should she ever fall. To Sarit, it seemed like he was passing off Tula to whoever was handy, as though he didn’t value time with her, but Reed did not want his daughter to be a stranger to her extended family.
Kimmy was on her third cup of coffee from a mug that read: ALL MY PANTS ARE SASSY. She watched him as he lowered himself into the empty seat next to her. “Did you bring up Houston?” she asked.
“No, it didn’t seem like a great idea to get into that over the phone.”
She smiled and tousled his hair. “Look at that—my little brother is learning.”
“Do you even own any pants?” he asked as he ducked away from her touch. Kimmy dressed in skirts and heels almost exclusively.