of them heard it. Two spots of color appeared high on Valerie Steuben’s cheekbones and the wide eyes grew wider still.
“How dare you!” she shrieked, standing up and over her son like a tiny bird of prey, her bony hands clenching like talons she longed to put around his neck.
“Okay, Mom, sorry—just chill.” Beau held up his own hands in a placating manner, rolling his eyes at the behavior of adults.
Mrs. Steuben sat back down but appealed to the two detectives. “When I was a girl we didn’t call boys, we waited for them to call us. Girls these days, they’re just so forward.”
“Yeah,” Oz agreed. Stephanie shot him a dirty look and he hastily said, “What size shoes do you wear, Beau?”
“Seven.”
“You own any Heelys?”
“No.” The tattoo increased. His whole knee was shaking.
“Yes, you do, Beau—”
“Shut up, Mom!” Beau let his other foot drop to the ground.
“You shut up!” she shrieked back at him. “Yes, he owns Heelys. I paid a small fortune for them last year.”
“They don’t fit.”
“Since when?”
“Since whenever they stopped fitting!”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Your feet haven’t grown.”
“We need to see those shoes,” Stephanie said.
Beau looked from her to his mother and back. “I gave them away.”
“What do you mean you gave them away? Those things were expensive!”
“Who did you give them to?” Oz said, exchanging a look with Stephanie.
“Nobody. I put them in one of those Goodwill boxes.”
“The one out by the Lowe’s on Washington?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d you get out there?”
“I drove.”
Oz sighed. “There is no Goodwill box at the Lowe’s, Beau. You’re lying.”
The boy’s mouth fell open again and he pressed his back further into the chair. “I’m not!” he said, but it came out as a squeak.
Valerie Steuben looked like she might cry. “I don’t understand? What do the shoes have to do with anything?”
“Your son was in the woods with Morgan Wycoff, weren’t you, Beau?”
“Okay, okay, I was there, but not that night. The day before. I swear!”
“Were you drinking?” Stephanie asked.
“What? No way! If Heather told you that she’s a liar.”
“Was Heather with you and Morgan in the woods?”
Valerie Steuben closed her eyes, hands clasped on her knees as if bracing for the worst. “Beau, what have you done?”
“Nothing, Mom!” Beau sat up straight. “Look, we liked to hang out up there sometimes. It was private.”
“A good place to perform witchcraft?” Oz asked.
The boy sighed. “It’s not witchcraft,” he said. “Wicca isn’t like that.”
“But you did some Wicca ritual in the woods?”
Valerie Steuben moaned and Beau rolled his eyes again. “Look, that was Morgan’s thing, not mine. It’s like, I support it, but I’m not that into it.”
Stephanie pulled a crime scene photo of the pentagram out of her jacket pocket. There’d been no way to take a picture of the entire circle given the tree in the middle, but they’d put the photos of each half together and taken a photo of that. It wasn’t a super-clean shot, but it worked.
She placed it on the coffee table and slid it over toward Beau. “You recognize this?”
The boy didn’t touch the photo, just sat forward, elbows on knees, and stared at it. Stephanie watched his face looking for any sign of recognition, but he didn’t react beyond absently twisting his eyebrow piercing.
“Yeah, it’s a pentagram,” he said, sitting back. “So?”
“Did Morgan draw this?”
“How should I know? If you’re going to ask if I drew it the answer is no.”
“What about any of Morgan’s other friends? Do you know anyone who might have drawn it?”
“Morgan didn’t have a lot of friends. Not at St. Ursula’s, anyway.”
“Did she have any enemies?”
He snorted. “Hell, yeah. The girls there are stuck-up bitches.”
“Anybody in particular?”
“I don’t know, I don’t remember. It’s not like we spent time talking about them. She wanted to forget them, forget that whole place.”
“But you met her up in the woods?”
“Sometimes.”
Stephanie said, “How’d you get past security, Beau?”
“You mean those old guys?” He laughed. “It’s a big campus.”
“So you were up there the day before. What time did you get there?”
“I don’t know. Four maybe.”
“And how long did you stay?”
The kid shrugged, avoiding her eyes. “I don’t know. An hour.” His foot began tapping again.
“C’mon, Beau, cut the crap,” Oz said in a stern voice. “You’re lying about this—“
“I’m not!”
“—just like you lied about your shoes. You’d better tell us the truth right now or I’m going to haul you down to the station and charge you with obstruction!” He stood up and slipped the cuffs from the back of his khakis. Stephanie stood up, too.
She knew this was mostly dramatics; they’d be hard pressed to make any charge against this kid stick without tangible evidence, but the Steubens didn’t know that. Valerie gaped like a stranded fish and Beau leapt to his feet, waving his hands frantically at Oz to ward him off.
“No! Stop it!”
Oz took a step toward
