She wanted to correct him with your friend’s place. “No one dragged you anywhere. We asked you to come with us. You did so willingly. No cuffs were used.”
“Willingly? You patted me down,” he scoffed. “If I didn’t go with you, I’d have been cuffed. I know how the system works.”
“Of course you do. After all, you have a record from when you were young. But we’re not concerned with that.” She caught Trent’s side-glance and subtle smirk. Oh well, someone in the room needs to be Good Cop.
“You’re not?” He sounded like he wanted to believe her but was wavering.
“We’re concerned with the here and now.”
“Well, here and now, I didn’t kill her.”
“All right, let’s say you’re telling the truth. How did she ruin your life?” Trent pressed.
Ashton narrowed his eyes. “She’s how I ended up with a juvie record. In high school, she bullied me relentlessly until one day I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
“And you hit her?” Trent asked, tossing out a hypothetical.
“No way. She’s a girl.”
Amanda crossed her arms, not convinced his claim absolved him of all guilt. He could have just been working in partnership with the person who had killed Chloe. And liars excelled at saying whatever necessary when it benefited them.
“You did something bad enough to land you in juvie,” Trent said.
“I keyed her car.”
“Oh.” The word escaped Amanda’s lips on a breath. She’d built up his juvie record to be indicative of something far worse than keying a car, though in the eyes of the law it was considered vandalism and an act of criminal mischief.
“But I served my time for that and did some community service.”
Amanda was processing what he’d told them. While the criminal charges surely hadn’t helped Ashton get off to a good start in life, the matter had happened when he was younger. He could have made the best of things and still gone on to have a bright future. There had to be more. “Did Chloe do something else that supposedly ruined your life?”
Ashton met her gaze and shook his head. “Pushing me until I snapped was enough. That got me a juvie record, which on its own ruined my future. I couldn’t get into any good colleges, just community ones.”
“They can still offer a decent education,” Amanda said.
“Not interested.”
“What did she do to make you key her car?” Amanda asked.
“No, I’m not saying. It’s far too embarrassing.”
“You realize you’re being questioned in regard to her murder,” Trent pointed out.
“It’s history.”
“Though it doesn’t sound like it is to you. You’re still embarrassed by whatever she did,” Amanda interjected. “And you blame her for the direction of your life.”
“I was overreacting.”
“Huh. So you had aspirations to pursue a career making pizza?” Not that there was a problem with that if it was his ambition. Given his bitter attitude, though, she doubted it was his chosen life path.
“I don’t make the pizza. I deliver them.”
She had a spark catch fire in her belly. There was the possibility that the person who had dropped Chloe’s killer off was either unaware or an accomplice. It was crucial she find out which. And if the only work that Ashton did was deliver pizza, how did he afford last year’s Toyota Camry? He’d admitted he was sleeping on his friend’s couch, didn’t have a place of his own.
“You have a nice car,” she said. “A Toyota Camry, last year’s model.”
“So what?”
“How can you afford it?”
“Credit.”
She eyeballed him until he sighed loudly.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but my dad co-signed on the loan.”
“So, delivering pizza brings in enough cash for you to afford the payments?” She was leading him, curious where they’d end up.
“That and my side gig.”
Trent leaned forward. “Which is?”
“I use the Camry like a taxi. You know the app, Pick Me Up? I’m with them.”
Amanda had heard of the car service, and she finally had something to show for all her leading questions. Though it didn’t yet excuse Ashton from all culpability. It could just be a nasty coincidence that he’d given a ride to Chloe’s killer and had a connection to her himself. If that was the case, the killer was even more thorough and organized than she’d originally thought. But there wasn’t a lit sign on his dash announcing him as being with the driving service—not a good indication. She’d get to that. “Where were you Monday at three, three thirty in the morning? Taking any fares at that time?”
“Anytime between eleven at night and six in the morning.”
His quip wasn’t working in his favor. “And in direct answer to my question?”
He turned away from her.
She went on. “I think you know exactly where you were and why you were there.”
He swallowed roughly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“So I’ll ask again, where were you Monday morning at three thirty?”
“Fine, I was at Leesylvania State Park, but it’s not what you think.” He straightened up in his chair.
“No? Chloe Somner was murdered there that very morning,” she pushed back.
“Well, I didn’t kill her! I just dropped off my fare there. Thought it was odd as hell because it was so early, but who am I to question a paying customer?”
“Was your fare a man or woman?” Trent asked.
“I’m not entirely sure. They didn’t say one word and wore a hoodie. I couldn’t see their face.”
“Okay, what about a dashboard camera. Do you have one of those?” Amanda was ready to pounce. So close to a break in the case, her insides were jumping.
“I don’t.”
No sign on the dash and no camera. “Isn’t it the law for those offering public transport to have cameras? For safety reasons?”
“I dunno.”