False Pretenses Read Online Free PDF

windows seem to be secure.”
    “They should be,” Ethan said. “We recently had the locks changed. So how could someone get in here?”
    “We do have a growing number of homeless in the parish.” Stone pursed his lips. “And it’s a well-known fact that the place has been vacant for years. It’s always possible someone saw you and Mrs. Langley enter the house and sneaked in while you were looking around, hid in the house, then stayed after you left.”
    “On the other hand,” Mike said, “if a squatter had been in here, there should be trash, a blanket, bucket, candles—some telltale sign. But except for the dusty footprints on the wood floors, it’s hard to tell anyone’s been in the house at all.”
    “A lot of those footprints are ours.” Vanessa tented her fingers. “And the contractor’s people.”
    “Would you mind if we spoke to your son?” Stone said.
    Ethan motioned for Carter to come sit in his lap. “Carter, this is Deputy Stone and Deputy Mike. They’d like to ask you some questions about the man you saw upstairs. I want you just to tell the truth.”
    Carter nodded, clinging tightly to Georgie. He held up one hand, his thumb tucked behind his fingers. “I’m four.”
    “My little boy is four”—Stone put on a pair of nose glasses—“and he’s really smart. I’ll bet you are too. Can you tell me about the man you saw?”
    “He was nice. He gave me lemon dwops. And his face was whiskery.”
    “By whiskery, do you mean he had a beard?”
    “No, he had white pwickles on his chin—like a cactus.”
    “I see. And what color was his skin?”
    “Bwown.” Carter smiled. “He said he was chocolate, but he was just being silly. People can’t be chocolate. He looked like Doctor Ben.”
    “Doctor Ben was Carter’s pediatrician before we moved here,” Vanessa said. “He was African-American.”
    “Good, this is very helpful. Carter, what color was the man’s hair?”
    “Black. He had itty bitty curls like Gi Gi. That’s my gwandma’s poodle.”
    “Was the man skinny like Deputy Mike? Or was he rounder like me? Or was he just medium, like your daddy?”
    Carter shrugged. “He wasn’t fat.”
    “Was he young like your daddy or older like me, or did he seem like a grandpa?”
    Carter cocked his head and looked at Stone questioningly.
    “Deputy Castille,” Vanessa said, “Carter’s grandfathers are youthful-looking and fit as a fiddle. I’m not sure he knows how to gauge young and old that way.”
    “Let’s skip that. We already know the guy had white stubble on his chin. Carter, can you remember anything else the man said to you?”
    “Uh-huh. He said”—Carter put his index finger to his lips—“‘Shh. I’m the candy man.’ Then he showed me his pocket was empty … but then out came the lemon dwops. It was funny.”
    “Is there anything about his voice that you remember?”
    “He whispered all the time.”
    “What else did he say?”
    “He said if I didn’t tell I saw him, he would give me more candy next time. But I told Mommy and Daddy anyway. I’m not supposed to talk to stwangers.”
    “Do you remember what the man was wearing?”
    “Um … his shirt was blue. It had a pocket where all the lemon dwops came from.”
    “Do you remember anything else about him?”
    “He wasn’t pwetend.”
    “Can you tell me the difference between real and pretend?”
    Carter paused for a moment and then set Georgie on the table. “Georgie’s a pwetend dog. He can’t bark or wag his tail. I have to do it. If he was a weal dog, he could do it all by hisself.”
    “I’d say you definitely know the difference between real and pretend.” Stone wrote something on the clipboard. “I think we’re finished. Carter, you’ve been very helpful. But your mom and dad are right about not talking to strangers—or taking candy or anything else from them. If you see this man again, don’t even talk to him. Run straight to your parents or a grown-up you know and tell