“That agreement was ten years ago when we were teenagers. I did my best to wipe that party out of my mind,” she answered in a low voice. “But last night Max woke me out of a nightmare and asked me what was wrong. I didn’t actually want to tell him about it, but he could see I was upset, and he wanted to know why. I decided it would be better to tell him.”
Cannon looked exasperated.
“Olivia says she was near the door, and she wanted to leave. When she heard the gun go off, she couldn’t see who Gary shot at.”
Cannon focused on her. “Is that what you told him?”
“It’s the truth.”
“The truth? Did you tell him you were so out of it that you didn’t know what was going on?”
“I don’t remember that part.”
“Of course not,” Cannon shot back. “You were too drunk. Lucky you didn’t throw up all over the rec room.”
“Let’s not get sidetracked. I don’t think that’s relevant,” Max said.
Cannon’s gaze swung back to him. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what’s relevant.” As soon as he’d spoken, the other man looked like he wished he hadn’t made the assertion.
“We’d like to know which football player was involved in the incident,” Max said.
Cannon hesitated for a moment. “Craig Pendergast.”
Beside Max, Olivia caught her breath. “Didn’t he die when his car went off the road?”
“Yeah,” Cannon confirmed. “So if you think he was the one who killed Gary, that can’t be true.”
“I wasn’t implying that he killed anybody,” Max said in a controlled voice. “Now we know for sure that four people who were at the party are dead. Why don’t you tell me what else was going on that night.”
“The usual kid stuff.”
“Which is?”
“Don’t tell me you didn’t drink and smoke pot back then,” Cannon said. “And weren’t you arrested for breaking into houses and stealing stuff?”
“Yeah. What of it?”
“So what right do you have to come here and question me?”
“What I did back then isn’t relevant to this investigation.”
“But what I did is?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s your class with the dead members. And it looks like four of them were at your house that night.”
Brian’s voice grew hard. “And you’re calling it an investigation?”
“I guess I am.”
“I don’t have to answer any more questions.”
“Don’t you want to catch the killer?”
“I’m not convinced there is a killer. I mean, we’re talking about a bunch of people who died in different ways. Don’t serial murderers usually have a pattern?”
“It depends on why they’re doing it. If it’s for sexual gratification, then they probably have a similar MO. But if it’s to punish people or to keep them from talking, not having a pattern would be a good technique for disguising what was going on.”
“What are you, a cop in disguise?” Brian suddenly asked.
“I’m not a cop.”
“Then why are you digging into this like a squirrel digging up nuts?”
“To make sure nothing happens to Olivia,” Max responded. “Suppose something happened at that party? Something the killer didn’t want anyone to know about.”
“Then he waited a long time to start his killing spree.”
Max kept his gaze on the man. “An interesting way to put it. But it goes back at least five years—when Gary died.”
Brian dragged in a breath.
“You’re the one who came here talking about a serial killer—or whatever you want to call it. And maybe it’s time for you to leave, because I can’t give you any more information.”
“I think you can.”
“Like what?”
“Olivia told me the people she remembers at the party. I’d like you to give me your list.”
“I’m supposed to remember everybody who came to a party ten years ago?”
“It was at your house, and it was a pretty memorable event.”
Cannon sighed. “Okay, I’ll do my best.” He began rattling off a list of names, many of them the same names Olivia had given him, although there were more.
“Can you write it down?”
“Now?”
“I’d appreciate it.”
“How about I email it to you. That will give me time to dredge up people I might have forgotten.”
Max would have liked to stay in the office, putting the guy on the spot, but he thought there was no more to be gained by pressing him. “Okay,” he agreed and gave the guy his email address.