The Competition - [45]

When we’d finished with the salesclerks, I asked Lupe whether there were any employees who’d worked with Logan who weren’t there today. Lupe brought us to the back room and checked her computer. “There were two others who were working here at the same time as him. I can’t say whether they were friends or anything.” She pointed to the screen. “Joy Pickerton and Ava Landau.” Lupe printed out their contact information for us. We’d let the unis check them out. It was unlikely we’d get anything from the kids at Cut-Rate Kicks. We thanked her and headed to the food court, where I indulged in a slice of pepperoni pizza.

I took a big bite and savored the oily cheesiness. The echoing din of the crowd gave us enough cover to talk about the case. “Three friggin’ months he lied about working here. Probably spent every minute of it planning the shooting.”

Bailey shook her head. “You wouldn’t think kids that crazy would have the patience to do that much prep work.”

Bailey’s cell phone rang, and I focused on my pizza while she took the call. When she put the phone down, she looked stunned. Bailey never looks stunned.

“What?”

“They got back the DNA results on the parents. The other dead kid in the library? It’s Otis Barney.”

27

“But that picture of Logan on his computer-”

Bailey nodded. “And the hate band posters on his wall-”

And he fit the profile: a loner who’d been bullied by jocks, a follower who’d been Logan’s acolyte-someone likely to follow his leader into hell. Who’d written that a perfect city is one without people. And who had that weird laugh. Neither of us spoke for several moments. I slid down in my chair and let my gaze wander. It landed on the jewelry kiosk to my right. The fake baubles were dazzling in the lighted glass case. Dazzled, that was us. “We fell for it. We fell for the stereotype.”

Bailey raised an eyebrow. “Really? Just like that you’re ready to dump Otis? Clichés are clichés because they’re true, Knight. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean he wasn’t a shooter.”

“But why would Logan kill his partner?”

“Shit. Who knows why these fools do anything? Maybe Otis was a weak link, and Logan wanted to cut the deadweight-”

“In which case maybe we only have one shooter on the loose.” Not that one wasn’t enough.

“Or…”

I sighed. “Or, Otis was involved but he wasn’t a shooter.” In which case we still had two shooters out there. I bent my straw into tiny, accordion squares. “I agree, we can’t rule Otis out as a possible suspect just because he’s dead. But that photo on his computer. The more I think about it, the more it bothers me.”

“The one of Logan with the gun,” Bailey said.

“Yeah. Why would Logan send something like that just before the shooting? If Otis’s parents had seen it, that could’ve screwed up their whole plan.”

“True. So what are you thinking? That Logan sent that photo on purpose, to incriminate Otis? Or a third mystery guy-maybe the second shooter-sent it?”

“The mystery guy, more likely,” I said. “And yeah, to frame Otis.”

“But that still leaves your question: why take the risk?”

“Because only Logan would’ve been tagged. He’d still be in the clear.”

“So you think our unknown guy was willing to go through with the shooting alone?”

“Probably not his first choice. And he didn’t have to go through with it. If the shit hit the fan with Logan’s photo, he could pull the plug and do it another day.” I let go of the straw. It uncoiled and lay semi-curled on the table. I reached for it again.

“Then you’re also saying this unknown guy deliberately imitated Otis’s laugh during the shooting?”

I started to fold the straw again. “Why not?”

“He would have to have access to Logan’s computer-”

“Logan’s got friends,” I said. “And laptops move around. He could’ve taken it anywhere-to work, to school.”

Bailey grabbed the straw out of my hands. “Give it a rest, would you?” She put the straw on her plate. “Okay, let’s assume that plays. Why pick Otis?”

“If our mystery guy is a friend of Logan’s, he probably knew Otis. So he knew Otis fit the profile. A fringy loser who got knocked around by football jocks. He figured we’d jump on him.” I grabbed the straw off her plate. “You know, like we did.”

“That’s pretty friggin’ smart for a kid.”

“Not really. Anyone can read about these school shooters. There’s stuff all over the place. And we’re pretty sure our shooters did study the others. Besides, who says these guys aren’t smart? Just because they’re fucked-up and homicidal-”

“Yeah, ‘I may be crazy but I ain’t stupid,’” Bailey said. “But I’m an Occam’s razor kind of guy. When in doubt, go simple. Logan sent that photo to Otis the night before the shooting to celebrate their big day. And he wasn’t worried about the risk because Otis told him his parents never check his computer.” Bailey glared at the straw, which I’d resumed torturing, then looked me in the eye. “And as we know, he was right. They didn’t.”

And they probably didn’t check because having his password made them feel secure. I couldn’t argue that one. “I’m just saying we can’t ignore the possibility that Otis was an innocent bystander.”