Page 53 of Shadowed With Fear

“No, Marcus. We won’t do anything to your sister. Thank you for helping us. We’ll let you go soon. We just have one more question.” Adam says from behind me.

I look at the guy. He’s pretty much a guy just like us, dealt a bad hand and is just trying to do what he can to survive.

“A few weeks ago, there was a news report of a girl who was raped and murdered— “

He chokes on his breath. “I didn’t do that! I swear to God!”

“Hey, calm down. We believe you.” Adam shushes.

“The girl was with her friend who was abducted. A few nights ago, another girl was abducted, seen inside a dark gray van. Know anything about that?” I question.

His face pales. “I think I’m going to— “and he vomits beside him.

“I don’t know.”

“We’ll according to what the police found; the plates of the van are registered to you.”

Marcus shakes his head vehemently. “No. No. I don’t have a van. I have an old Ford. Please, believe me. It was my grandpa’s last present to me before he died.”

Henry steps forward, the crowbar lying on the table behind us as we crouch before Marcus.

“Okay. So how did your plates end up inside that van?”

“They were stolen. I swear to God. I made the report this morning.”

My brows furrow and I lean toward Adam’s ear.

“When did Maul tell you all this?” I whisper.

Adam pulls out his phone, showing me the time stamp on the messages.

6:42 am

Maul: I just caught a glimpse of the forensics on that van. A license plate was found in the back of the cab along with the girl’s belongings. Her name is Janey Owens, twenty. Plate’s registered to Marcus Greene. Yellow house on the corner of Pine Ave and 21st.

Shit.

“The plates were registered to him, but he didn’t say shit about the vehicle the plate’s belonged to,” I murmur to Adam, who looks at me confused.

“Think someone planted them?”

“Or they stole them to throw the cops off?”

We turn to Marcus speaking with Henry. Henry has his whole therapist thing going on, trying to pull as much info from him as we can.

“Do you know anyone named Janey?” I ask him, observing every possible tell he might have.

But there’s nothing. No twitch on his eye or mouth to indicate recognition, no spasms in his hands or feet. No dilation of his pupils.

“No, I’ve never heard that before in my life.” Sincerity is laced with each word.

“Okay, Marcus. Thank you for helping us. Henry is going to ask you a few questions about the meeting places you met with Jerry’s supplier, and then we’ll take you home.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles over and over, eyes cast upward.

“And listen. If you need cash, or a place to work that will work with your schedule, look up SecureZone. They’re hiring.”

He thanks me again, as I walk to the table Adam scurried off to. He’s fixing up a syringe with some sedatives for us to move Marcus.