Chapter 6 - The Boy They Needed to Blame
Detective Ortiz took them to the station separately. She questioned Vincent for forty minutes, Lena for an hour, and Darius for nearly three. Noah sat in a small interview room with a box of crayons and drew blue birds on every sheet of paper.
“You understand how this looks,” Mara told Vincent.
“Like someone is trying to scare us.”
“Like you broke into private property with an involved juvenile and removed evidence.”
“The building is abandoned.”
“Abandoned isn’t the same as ownerless.”
Vincent placed the memory card on the table. “Listen to it.”
Mara did not touch it. “I need a warrant.”
“Then get one.”
“Warrants take time.”
“People who burn stores don’t wait for paperwork.”
Her expression hardened. “You think I don’t know that?”
Before Vincent could answer, a uniformed officer entered and spoke quietly to Mara. She looked through the window at Darius.
“What happened?” Vincent asked.
“A gas can was found behind the Mercado.”
“So?”
“Darius’s prints are on it.”
Darius was arrested before sunset.
His mother, Inez Bell, arrived at the station wearing a laundromat apron and carrying a plastic bag of clean shirts. She slapped both hands against the counter when she saw the handcuffs.
“My son is not an arsonist,” she said.
“We’re investigating,” Mara replied.
“You’re accepting whatever story the rich man hands you.”
Gideon Vale gave his own version of events outside the station. Cameras gathered while he spoke about youth violence, struggling families, and the need for Riverlight security patrols.
“We cannot let a few troubled teenagers endanger an entire community,” he said.
Vincent watched from behind the glass. Vale never looked toward the station door, but he knew exactly where Darius was.
That night, Lena spread city documents across the dining room table. She had printed property transfers connected to the addresses in Noah’s notebook.
“Look at these owners,” she said. “Different names. Same mailing address.”
Vincent leaned over the papers. “Vale Development Group.”
“Four shell companies. One attorney. Every property purchased three weeks after a fire, a code violation, or a threat.”
“Can you prove it?”
“I can prove the records were altered.”
“By whom?”
“Someone with access to the system.”
Her phone buzzed.
Lena read the message and went pale.
“What?” Vincent asked.
“My supervisor says I’m suspended.”
“For what?”
“Unauthorized access to municipal files.”
“You were doing your job.”
“Apparently my job is not asking questions.”
From the living room came a soft electronic chime. Noah’s tablet had received a message.
Vincent walked over and found a single photograph on the screen. It showed Keon Price sitting in the back of a black SUV. His wrists were bound. A man’s hand rested on his shoulder.
The caption read: ONE BOY CAN BE A MISTAKE. TWO BECOME A PATTERN.
Noah stood behind Vincent. “Is Keon hurt?”
“I don’t know.”
“We have to find him.”
Lena pulled Noah away from the screen. “Detective Ortiz will find him.”
The phone rang.
Mara’s voice was low. “Vincent, do not act on that photograph.”
“Where did you get this number?”
“It was sent to my department email.”
“Then you know he’s alive.”
“I know somebody wants us to believe he is.”
“Where is Darius?”
“Being transferred to juvenile holding.”
“Can you protect him?”
Silence answered first.
Then Mara said, “I’m trying.”
The line went dead.
At midnight, Vincent heard tires squeal outside. He looked through the curtains and saw a police van pull away from the curb.
May you like
On the sidewalk, beneath the streetlamp, lay Noah’s borrowed violin.
Its strings had been cut one by one.
