"Why don't you tell me what you did to Tamara, Colter?"
Scotty wasn't going to be bothered with formalities. This wasn't just some other file he pulled off the shelf. It infuriated him beyond logical reasoning. He had to do this. For Lilly.
"Nothing!" Colter looked slightly wounded.
"She slept with your best friend while she was seeing you and you're trying to tell me that you did nothing? And I'm supposed to believe that you did nothing?" Scotty clenched his hands into fists.
"Listen," Colter began.
"What do you mean, Tammy?"
"I'm pregnant, Colter." Tamara's voice was barely above a whisper.
"But we never…" Colter gripped her arms.
"Me and Jeff did." Tamara's eyes dropped to the floor.
"When?" He slammed her against the row of lockers.
"At Mary's party last month."
Colter's fingers tightened on her arms. Tears flooded his eyes. "How could you?" he asked. "How could you?"
"I'm sorry."
"Sorry isn't good enough." Then, just above a whisper, "I'll take care of him. Get lost, bitch." And when he let go, Tamara ran, almost tripping over the feet of a little girl who sat nearby, writing.
Scotty nodded. "So, what, to get back at Jeff, you killed Tamara? Couldn't've you just kicked his ass or something?"
"I was, you know, mad. But I, you know, didn't kill Tamara. I loved her."
"You were fifteen," Josie pointed out.
So was I, Scotty thought bitterly.
"What did you do?" he asked. "To Jeff, I mean."
"Talked to Coach Vincent."
"Who?"
"Our football coach."
"Hey, Cole."
"Hi. Can I, you know, talk to you?"
"Sure." Coach Vincent was cleaning up after the fifth grade gym class. "What's up, Cole?"
"You know my girlfriend?"
"Tammy. Yeah. She okay?"
"She's, uh, pregnant. But it's not mine. It's, uh, Jeff Davis'."
Coach Vincent raised his eyebrows.
"And, uh, I don't think Jeff should be allowed to play on the team anymore," Colter continued.
Coach Vincent considered. "I'll talk to Mr. Keefe tomorrow and see what he thinks."
"Thanks, Coach."
"Any time, Cole. No problem."
"So was Jeff bumped from the team?" Scotty asked.
"No."
"That must've made you mad, huh, Colter?"
"Well. You know, yeah."
"Yeah. Hey, Colter?"
"What?"
"What's Coach Vincent's first name?"
"Uh. Rod."
Josie drove back to the precinct from Colter's house because Scotty was engrossed in Lilly's notebook.
CR and TC fighting in EHSHW. CR v. agitated, TC c. shameful. Both speaking in whispers. JD h. involved but not present. TC slammed against row of lockers on left side, CR v. sad and angry, TC apologetic. TC holding sheet of paper, pink logo on tlhc. Looks like the form M has from PP, a pt. Probably +.
He smiled as he shut the notebook and got out of the car. He tried to remember ever being that serious as a kid. He borrowed a pen from Josie and wrote on his hand: EHSHW, c., h, tlhc, M, PP, pt+. He'd have to ask Lilly about them later.
"Rod Vincent?"
Rod Vincent was a short, stocky man with close-cropped grey hair and a youthful expression.
"The one, the only. What can I do for you?"
"Josie Sutton and Scotty Valens, Philly PD. Homicide," Josie explained.
"OK, you've got my attention." The former football coach wiped his hands on his shirt and stood up.
"Did you know Tamara Collins?"
Rod's eyes clouded. "Colter Roberts' girlfriend. Nice girl."
"We're investigating her murder. Can we come in?"
"Sure."
"Tell us about Colter."
"Well, he was a nice kid. A little slow, you know, but a nice kid. Captain of the Football team. A good kid. He was crazy about Tamara. He was so broken up when she died that he left school entirely. Probably could've went on to college or pro if he really wanted to."
"So you don't think he killed her?"
"No. No, I don't think he could've. If you know what I mean."
"Do you think Jeff Davis could've killed her?
Rod considered. "No," he said finally.
Scotty and Josie looked at each other, both thinking the same dire thought: dead end.