The Fort (Aric Davis)

when a knock on the door interrupted him. “Excuse me,” he continued, barely missing a beat. “Why don’t you come too, Doc? This will give Scott a chance to think and talk to his mom.”
    “What is it?” Van Endel said as he opened the door. “We’re in there trying to figure out where—” Then it was shut behind him and Dr. Martinez and his voice was gone.
    “Why don’t they believe me?” Scott asked his mom, once he was sure the door was all the way closed. “All they’re doing is asking me about her stupid clothes, and I’m telling the truth, but they still don’t believe me.”
    “Calm down,” she said. “I think they’re just trying to verify that you aren’t making any of this up. It’s their job to be distrustful; it might be the reason they wound up working here in the first place.” She sighed. “Either way, just keep your chin up. Hey, wasn’t Carl’s news the best? I can’t wait to cash out my last table.”
    “You could just quit, Mom. You don’t owe them anything.”
    She shook her head. “No way. That would totally mess up the schedule and make everyone else have to pick up other shifts. I kind of feel bad about quitting as it is. Isn’t that weird? All I’ve done is complain for years about that place, and now I don’t want to leave, in this really weird way.”

25
    Van Endel was furious. He was in there trying to figure this shit out, which was bad enough, and now Summers was pulling him out of an interrogation. Walt knew better. This was beyond unprofessional—it could ruin the minor progress that he and Dr. Martinez had made. Van Endel was ready to scream, thought maybe he was already screaming, when he saw Chief Sanborn standing next to a wounded-looking Walt.
    “My office, now,” said Chief Jefferson flatly, and Van Endel took Walt’s nod as he entered the office as a mark of sympathy.
    This is bad, I know it.
    Chief Jefferson sat behind his desk after waddling around it, then turned on Van Endel with an annoyed look. “Stretch out your drumsticks, and sit down. I got bad news, and you’re not going to like it, so let’s get it over with.”
    Van Endel sat reluctantly. The chief and he had been at odds for almost six months over Van Endel’s handling of the Riverside business. Van Endel was a smart enough man to know that his attitude hadn’t helped. Regrettably, and especially to his boss, neither had his detective work. Van Endel grinned, then frowned, but got no reaction. Finally, he took a Werther’s Original from a bowl on Jefferson’s desk and said, “Spill it.”
    “We got a body,” said Jefferson. “White female, burned beyond recognition, teeth smashed out with a hammer. Whoever does dental on this girl is going to be in for a serious nightmare.”
    “Where was she?” Van Endel asked, his voice higher than normal, pulse accelerating. “How long has she been deceased?” He looked at the clock on the wall. The 911 call was less than ninety minutes old.
    “Calm down,” said Jefferson. “I see that look in your eyes, but it’s not what you think. She’s been dead about two days, according to the coroner, and from the amount of fire damage, she burned for a while.” Jefferson lit a cigarette, coughed twice into a handkerchief, then leaned back in his chair. “Body was found in a shallow grave, near the drive-in but off the property. You need to go down and talk to the guys working that night, get the fear of God into them, maybe even give them a serious look as possible suspects.”
    “So the whole 911 call was bullshit?” Van Endel asked, in a voice that was escalating now. He could feel rage boiling in his stomach. If that was my fucking kid and he did that …Van Endel let out a breath he’d been unconsciously holding in.
    “Yep,” said Jefferson. “That seems pretty damned obvious. You’re going to go back in there, and you’re going to very politely tell those kids that they’re a bunch of fuckin’ attention-seeking, miserable little pricks, and then you’re going to go the crime scene. If that sounds like an order, it’s because it is. The coroner is saying the body is close to the height and weight of the Peterson girl, so after you’re done at the crime scene, you’re going to the morgue with the body to verify, eyes-on, that those things are correct.”
    “Have you contacted the mother yet?”
    “Nope, not yet,” said Jefferson. “That’s next, just as soon as your butt’s out of that chair. I’m going