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I exchanged a glance. “One last question,” he said. “Did you and Mike and Thad go to the Wheelhouse tonight?”
    “No.”
    “You’re sure?” He held up a plastic evidence bag with a sodden matchbook with the Wheelhouse’s logo on it. “Thad had this in his pocket.”
    Kyle’s eyelids flickered rapidly. “I don’t know anything about it.”
    “Huh.” Cody contemplated the evidence bag. “There’s a phone number written on it. Was there someone in particular Thad was trying to hook up with tonight?”
    “No. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “He must have gotten some girl’s digits in one of the bars.”
    “Why wasn’t he carrying his phone?”
    “I don’t know.” His voice was taut again. “It must have fallen out of his pocket in the river.”
    “He jumped into the river with his phone?” Cody sounded skeptical.
    “I guess. I don’t know ! We were drunk, okay?”
    “Can I see your phone?”
    Kyle handed it over. I watched his expression while Cody examined the phone, just as I’d watched Mike Huizenga’s when Cody had gone over the same line of questioning with him. Whatever they were hiding, it wasn’t on their phones.
    “Okay.” Cody returned the phone. “Look, I’m sorry to put you through this, but we have to treat any death very seriously, you understand?”
    There were tears in the kid’s eyes. “It was an accident !”
    “It certainly seems that way.” Cody tapped the evidence bag. “But things aren’t always what they seem in Pemkowet. Isn’t that right, Daisy?”
    A twenty-one-year-old kid had died tonight, and his friends were covering up the truth. It wasn’t hard to access a well of simmering anger. I held Kyle’s gaze, feeling the air pressure in the room change. “It certainly is.”
    “Don’t worry.” Cody rose. “Whatever happened, we’ll get to the bottom of it.”

Four
    S ince Kyle’s parents lived out of state, Mike Huizenga’s parents drove down from Appeldoorn to retrieve both witnesses. They were stalwart descendants of Dutch settlers, rightfully horrified at the death of their son’s friend, wrongfully furious that Mike and Kyle had been detained for questioning.
    “It’s standard procedure, Mr. Huizenga,” Cody said patiently. “We’re very sorry for the Vanderheis’ loss. I’m sure they’d want us to do everything by the book.”
    “Do you think Jim and Sue Vanderhei will take comfort in knowing their son died in this ungodly den of iniquity?” Mrs. Huizenga shouted at him, her chin quivering. “And your response was to harass his grieving friends? I want to file a complaint!”
    “They ought to raze this place to the ground,” her husband muttered.
    Did I mention that Appeldoorn is a highly conservative community that enjoys an extremely uneasy relationship with Pemkowet? Well, it is.
    Unseen by the good Dutch folk, a hint of phosphorescent green flashed in Cody’s eyes. It gave me a private thrill to see him struggle with his temper, and, strangely, I found it calming. Perverse, but true.
    “I’m so very sorry, Mrs. Huizenga,” I said in my most soothing voice. “If you’d like to file a complaint, I’d be happy to help you. I’m sure Chief Bryant would be glad to call you and discuss your concerns in person. But it’s late, and your son and his friend have had a terrible night. I can’t imagine how they’re feeling right now.” I gave them a sympathetic smile. “Maybe it would be best for everyone if you just went home and prayed on it.”
    She hesitated.
    “She has a point.” The husband put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Let’s get the boys home.”
    The boys nodded with guilt-and-grief-stricken agreement.
    It was a relief to see them go, although I had a bad feeling that we hadn’t heard the last from the parents.
    Cody slumped back into his chair, heaving an exhausted sigh. “Go home and pray on it. That’s rich, coming from you.”
    I perched on a corner of his desk. “You think I can’t talk