Chapter 17

As Steele put more and more pieces of the puzzle together, he didn’t see how the shooter could have been Pete Bargas. It took skills the boy hadn’t had. And there was no motive. Pete wasn’t popular, but he wasn’t unpopular. Wasn’t bullied. People didn’t seem to hate him before the school shooting. Of course, the information Steele obtained might not have been accurate. Elena’s views of her son were biased. Her judgment clouded. Maybe her son wasn’t who she had thought he was. As for Tad Newberry—he was Pete’s friend. Was he being completely honest? Was he protecting Pete? Or for that matter, himself and Jerry Lyons. Did they secretly shoot guns without their parents’ knowledge? Were they afraid their secret would be discovered?

Without having anything else to go on, Steele decided to interview the parents of the dead children. Most doors were slammed shut in his face. Some parents, and some siblings of the dead, spoke to Steele. He felt their pain, their anguish. And their loathing for Pete Bargas and Elena. So as he waited after knocking on yet another door, Steele thought about relocating Elena away from Cactus Point. But to where? And would she go? If he asked her to leave with him, would she assume he wanted to get back together? Romantically?

The door opened and a young boy, maybe five years old, looked up at Steele with big round eyes. His hair was dark and straight. Thick. His face pudgy. A woman ran to the door and, with a hand grabbing the boy’s upper arm, whisked him behind her. She was a plump woman, short in stature with hair tied in a bun. Hispanic. The boy’s head popped out from around her meaty hip. He looked up at the towering man.

“Mrs. Lopez?” Steele said.

“Yes.”

“Maria Lopez’s mother?”

“What do you want?”

“I’m investigating the shooting at the high school. Elena Bargas asked me to look into it.”

Mrs. Lopez’s hand flew to her cheek. “Oh, the poor woman! How is she doing?”

Steele gawked at Mrs. Lopez in silence. Other than Buck, everyone in town despised Elena. Especially the parents of the dead children. Did he finally find someone compassionate? Someone he could talk to? Get answers from?

With his hands out to the sides and the palms pointing toward the sky, Steele shrugged. “What can I say? It’s been hard on her. She’s haunted by what happened. I’m trying to ease her pain. May I come in? I have some questions.”

The woman broke eye contact with Steele. Looked to the side. That was odd. He expected a simple no or the door slammed in his face. She looked uneasy, rubbing her hand on her hip, the one not holding her son.

Mrs. Lopez looked back at Steele. “Elena doesn’t deserve this. It’s not her fault.”

“So may I come in?”

“Yes, of course. Please come in.” She turned to her son and mussed his thick hair. “Gerardo, go play in your room.”

The boy glanced up at Steele before dashing toward the back of the house. He disappeared into his bedroom. Mrs. Lopez stepped aside to allow Steele to enter. He looked around as she led him to the dining room. The house was larger than the others he had been in and had nicer furniture. And even a formal dining room. The woman sat on one side of the dining room table. Steele took a seat across from her.

“Mrs. Lopez, I’m so sorry for your loss.” Steele paused. “May I call you Sarita?”

“Yes, of course. How do you know my name?”

“From the police report. It listed Maria’s parents as Sarita and Juan at this address. Is your husband home?”

Mrs. Lopez’s eyes darted to her left hand. She covered it with her right. The gold band had glinted in the light for an instant. “He doesn’t live with me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. Did Maria live with you?”

She looked back at Steele with watery eyes. “Yes.”

“That was your son who answered the door?”

“Yes. Gerardo.”

“Any other children?”

“Two more.”

“Do they live with you or your husband?”

“They all live with me.”

“Again, I’m sorry for your loss, but I need to ask these questions.”