Page 76 of Montana Memory
“Whatever’s going on, I don’t want her anywhere near this place while the cops are circling.”
“Agreed.”
Caleb was still holding the phone, one hand now wrapped tight around the base. He was leaning back just enough that he looked calm to a casual observer. But I knew better. His eyes were sharp. Waiting.
I tapped my thumb against the receiver. “I’ve got a question. Before we start, you probably know this already, but these conversations are recorded.” I didn’t want him incriminating himself in what I was about to ask.
Caleb’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Yeah,” he said, slow and measured. “I’m aware.”
“Then I’ll just say… I’m wondering what people are saying. About how Alan died. Who was responsible.”
“And you think it was me who killed him?”
“No. I’m just asking what you’ve heard.”
He didn’t answer right away. Just sat there, jaw working, like he was chewing on the words before he gave them voice.
Finally, he said, “People talk. Especially when someone like Alan catches a shiv to the gut. Word is, he was a narc. Had a deal with the cops the first time—got out early because he gave up something useful. Or someone.”
I nodded. That made sense.
“Word is, cops were going to help get him out again, despite the new charges. Alan was playing both sides.” Caleb’s lips curled, not quite a sneer, not quite a smile. “That kind of thing doesn’t sit well in here.”
“I can imagine.”
Caleb’s gaze met mine again. “And the kicker? He had a visit from the cops the same day he was killed. That certainly didn’t take the target off his back.”
“But you didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“I can honestly say no.” He didn’t flinch. “Not saying I wouldn’t have made his life hell in here after what he did to my sister, but no, I didn’t kill him. But I didn’t cry about it either.”
I let out a slow breath and nodded. “I hope he burns.” I meant every word.
“I have no doubt he is. Look, there’s one more thing. The last time the cops came by—a couple days ago—they had a photo of you and Jada.”
I didn’t blink, didn’t move. Just kept my breathing even, my body still.
“Photo wasn’t from the first time you came in,” he went on. “No ball cap, no beard scruff. In the picture, you didn’t look anything like you do today or last time. You looked…tough, aware, protective. Picture was taken outside. You were standing in front of a gray truck.”
Fuck.Mytruck.
“What did they ask?”
“If I knew you, knew your name. If you’d ever contacted or visited me.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That I didn’t know who you were and didn’t care. That my sister stopped visiting me over a year and a half ago and I didn’t give a shit about her either.”
“Did they believe you?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Seemed like it. If they’d known it was you here visiting me, they would’ve been asking what you said to me. But they didn’t.”
I exhaled through my nose. “And when was this?”
“Two, three days ago? I don’t know. Time sort of blends in here.”
“Regardless. Thank you.”
