“If it’s Eli, please let me make sure someone is there when you tell Mrs. Whitney. He’s her only family.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“What other leads have you found?” Matt realized she’d had the case for less than twenty-four hours, but the first day of the investigation was critical.
“None. We canvassed the neighborhood of the party. No one remembers seeing him. Eli lives in an apartment on the north side of the university. Two of his roommates were home when I stopped by. Eli’s best friend, Christian Crone, was sick in bed during the party. He has no alibi. Dustin Lock was with his girlfriend all night. The girlfriend verified his story, but she lives alone, and no one saw them at her place. So, take that for what it’s worth. I didn’t get any glaring sense that Christian, Dustin, or Dustin’s girlfriend were lying, but you never know. The third roommate, Brian O’Neil, is visiting his mother. He hasn’t been around all week. I called his cell number and left a message last night. He hasn’t responded.”
“What did you think of the roommates?” Matt asked.
“None have criminal records.” The detective pursed her lips. “They’re all good-looking, athletic, popular. They like girls and partying more than going to class.”
“You’ve just described a quarter of the university population.”
The detective snorted. “You’re probably right.”
“Have you searched Eli’s phone?”
“Yes. I looked through his recent calls and texts. Didn’t see anything abnormal. No threats or conflicts. He’s a party boy and has a mean sense of humor. Yet he seems to be very attentive to his grandmother.”
“No one is perfect,” Matt said.
“Have you seen his social media accounts?”
“You mean Twitter?” Matt asked.
“Yeah.” She frowned.
Matt shrugged. “Clearly, Eli can be an ass, but there’s nothing violent there. I suspect he thinks he’s hilarious.”
Stella nodded. “Mostly he texts back and forth with his roommates. There’s some communication with a young woman named Sariah Scott. From her texts with Eli, she doesn’t seem as hung up on him as he is on her. She referred to him as ‘cute but immature.’ Eli invited her to go to the party with him, but she turned him down.” Stella finished her sandwich and washed it down with the end of her coffee.
“How do you think his phone ended up on the riverbank?”
“I don’t know.” Stella shook her head. “But I’ve found no sign of foul play. I heard from multiple people that once Eli starts drinking, he doesn’t know when to stop. I’m more concerned that he passed out somewhere in the cold or fell in the river.”
Either way, Matt thought there was a fair chance that the body Brody had found was Eli.
CHAPTER NINE
It was three in the afternoon before Bree headed back to the station. She turned on her wipers to clear the snowflakes falling on her windshield. She had questions for Alyssa. Lots of them. She made a mental game plan for her interview, but her head felt heavy. Having missed lunch and spent too many hours in the cold, she’d burned every calorie from her protein bar. The twenty-minute drive seemed longer. She parked behind the sheriff’s station and went inside. Her administrative assistant, Marge, showed up in the doorway of her office before Bree even got her jacket off.
Marge was about sixty, with dyed brown hair and drawn-on eyebrows. In her cardigans and sensible shoes, she looked like everyone’s grandma—a deceptive appearance. On the outside she might be soft all over, but inside, she was pure titanium.
Marge had a steaming bowl in her hands. “I assume you haven’t eaten.”
“You are correct.” Bree took off her jacket and Kevlar vest and hung them on a peg.
“Sit.” Marge set the bowl on her desk. She held up a hand. “I know you’re in a rush to question that girl, but you’ll be sharper if you take ten minutes to eat.”
“I’m not going to protest.” Bree sat behind her desk. “I’m starving. Thank you.”
“You are very welcome.” Marge reached into the pocket of her cardigan and produced three small packages of crackers. She handed them over. “Do you want coffee or water or both?”
“Both would be wonderful.” Bree picked up the spoon and started on the soup, which was vegetable beef. She booted up her computer and ate while it chugged to life.
Bree opened a pack of crackers and crumbled them into her soup. “Where is Alyssa?”
“Interview room two,” Marge said.
“Has she eaten?” Bree worried about the girl. She looked malnourished. Had Rogers been right? Was the girl a drug addict? She hadn’t had any of the other physical signs: bad skin, rotted teeth, nervous tics. But homelessness and drugs often went together.
Marge raised an offended brow. “Of course I fed her. I gave her soup and a sandwich. She could also use a shower and clean clothes, but we don’t have a locker room for women in this building.”
“We need to fix that,” Bree said between spoonfuls. She waved at a pile of folders containing job applications on the corner of her desk. “Some of the deputies I intend to hire will be female.”
Marge smiled. “I don’t know how you’ll squeeze another locker room into this tiny building. We’re already busting at the seams.”
It was true. The men’s locker room didn’t even have room for all the men. The facilities hadn’t been upgraded since avocado-colored carpet was trendy. The sheriff’s station resembled the set of a 1970s cop show, all worn wood, cracked linoleum, and lopsided file cabinets.
Marge’s face turned thoughtful. “Maybe that’s how we’ll get our building upgraded.”
Bree opened a second pack of crackers. “I’m not following?” Bree’s brain was fully engaged with her new case.
“We can’t discriminate against female applicants, and we also can’t deny them equal access to facilities.”
“Marge, you’re a genius. How do we make it happen?” Bree had no illusions. Her administrative assistant knew way more about local politics than she did.
“You need to hold more press conferences, especially when you have a big case. The voters need to see you.”
“I hate politics almost as much as I hate being on TV.”
“That’s part of what makes you a good sheriff.” Marge’s gaze hardened. “But this county is still a man’s world, and they will stick together. You need the public on your side to even out the power dynamic. You say you don’t like politics, but keep in mind that you work for the people. They deserve to hear the truth from you before rumors get the information all wrong.”
“Thanks for the reminder.”
“Anytime. I’ll also work on a list of people you need to schmooze to get the building renovated.”
Bree groaned, and Marge chuckled on her way out of the office. By the time she returned a few minutes later, Bree had shoveled down the entire bowl of soup.
Marge set down a cup of coffee and a bottle of water. “What are you going to do with the girl after you question her?”