Chapter 27

Slumped down in the driver’s seat of his car, Steele waited in the Cactus Point High School parking lot strategically parked near the rows of bicycles. He noticed none were chained and locked. Buck had described Brian Johnston as a sixteen-year-old who was only five foot four and skinny like a rail who looked thirteen years old. What would make him stand out was his color. Or lack of it. Straight blond hair to his collar that was almost white, and very pale skin. Except for his bright blue eyes, one would think he was an albino.

The final school bell of the day rang and soon a herd of students rushed through the double doors. Steele sat up in the driver’s seat and scanned the mass of boys and girls fleeing the building. It wasn’t until the short boy broke through the crowd to retrieve his light blue bicycle that Steele spotted him. Buck was right. There was no one like him.

Steele got out of his car and strolled up to the boy. Brian looked up at the man towering over him and cupped a hand over his eyes as he squinted from the bright Arizona sky.

“Brian Johnston?” Steele said.

“Who are you?” The boy looked around as if seeking help.

“I’m a private investigator.”

The boy’s eyes got real big. “Really?”

“Really. I want to ask you about Pete Bargas.”

Once again the boy looked around. This time more nervous than scared. “What about him?”

“Did you know him?”

“We weren’t friends.”

“But you knew him.”

“Yeah. We went to school together.”

“And you shot together.”

“Shot what?”

“Pistols.”

Brian took a step back. “Me and Pete? No way! Who told you that?”

“No one. I talked to Clive Jenkins earlier and—”

“Clive told you that?”

“No. Clive said Pete didn’t know anything about guns.”

“I don’t think he did. So why did you say me and Pete shot together? We didn’t even hang out together.”

“I’m trying to find out if Pete shot guns without his mother knowing. That’s all.”

“So why are you asking me? He wasn’t my friend.”

“Because you’re good with a gun. I asked Clive first and now I’m asking you. I want to ask Mac Ruster too, but Clive said he hasn’t been around.”

“No, Mac doesn’t hang out with us anymore. I don’t know what happened to him. Why are you asking all these questions?”

“That’s what private investigators do.”

“So you’re really a private dick?”

“I prefer investigator, but yes.”

“That’s so cool. Do you carry a gun?”

“Sometimes.”

“What type?”

“My main semi-automatic is a Glock 19.”

“Why that one?”

“It’s what I’m comfortable with.”

“Is being a private eye like it is on TV?”

Steele chuckled. “There’s a lot of boring stuff that they don’t show on television. Like sitting in my car waiting for school to end and then asking you these stupid questions.”

The boy laughed. “That’s how you get answers.”

“Brian, you’re smarter than your years. I may hang that motto in my office.”

“Who hired you?”

“No one hired me. I’m a friend of Pete’s mother. She asked me to look into the shooting.” Steele paused before saying, “Brian, if Pete didn’t know anything about guns, how could he have shot all those kids?”

“Beats me.”

“That’s it?”

“They found his body with the gun. He shot them and then killed himself. That’s all I know.”

“But how could he have done it?”

The boy shrugged.

“Brian, one more question that has nothing to do with Pete or the shooting.” Steele looked up at the bright sun and then back at the boy. “How do you keep from getting sunburned?”

“Sunblock. Lots of it. SPF 70.”

Steele drove back to Elena’s house and parked in the driveway. A woman darted out from behind the side of the house and rushed toward him. Her short yellow dress flapped around her thighs, and the low afternoon sun behind her made everything underneath it teasingly visible. Her curly bright red hair bounced on her shoulders as she clutched the pocketbook hanging on her shoulder to her side. Steele closed the car door and leaned against it.