The Outsider Read Free Page B

yellow bucket over to the red stains. She drenched the floor with dirty gray mop water.
    â€œI’ll do that,” her father said. He pulled the mop out of her hands.
    â€œCome on. Let’s go to the ladies’ room and get you cleaned up,” Maria said, slipping her arm through Liz’s,
    â€œGood idea.” Liz didn’t know how much longer she could stand here acting calm and talking about ketchup.
    She turned toward her friend. Maria’s face was pale. Her peachy pink blush looked way too dark now. It stood out on her cheeks in ugly splotches.
    Before Liz could take a step, the front door of the cafe swung open and Sheriff Valenti strode in. The heels of his boots echoed on the tile floor as he made his way up to the counter.
    Everyone at Olsen High knew Kyle’s father. He did a locker search practically every week. He stopped anyone under eighteen who was driving even one mile over the speed limit. He showed up at practically every party, checking to see if there was any underage drinking going on.
    â€œI got a report that there were shots fired at this address,” he told Mr. Ortecho. “Can you tell me what happened?”
    He’s going to ask a billion questions, Liz thought. What if he doesn’t believe the ketchup story? She felt her heartbeat speed up.
    â€œI was in my office. I heard two men yelling, then a shot,” Mr. Ortecho answered in a shaky voice. “I ran out and saw my daughter . . . I saw my daughter lying on the ground, bleeding.”
    â€œIt was ketchup,” Liz said quickly. “The gunshot scared me. I jumped back, then I fell. I broke this ketchup bottle, and it spilled all over me.”
    Valenti turned toward her. “Is that right?” he asked. He took off his hat, and Liz could see the red band the brim had made across his forehead.
    â€œUh-huh,” Liz answered.
    Why did she feel so intimidated? He’d asked the question in a calm voice — he didn’t yell or anything. And it wasn’t like he was some big, powerful-looking man. He was about average height, not much taller than Liz.
    But there was something about him. If Liz had to pick one word to describe Sheriff Valenti, it would be
deliberate.
She got the feeling that his every word, his every gesture was calculated. And if he was so careful about what
he
did and said, he must scrutinize every detail about other people.
    Did he notice how wet the floor is? she thought suddenly. Does he wonder why we mopped? It
was
kind of a bizarro thing to do three seconds after someone tried to shoot at her.
    Valenti didn’t ask another question. He just stood there.
    Did he believe her story? Liz wished she could see the sheriff’s eyes. But he hadn’t removed his mirrored sunglasses. All she could see in them were reflections of her own face.
    â€œTwo guys in that booth over there were having a fight,” Maria put in. “One was sort of short but not scrawny, more muscular, and the other one was a big beefy guy.”
    â€œThat’s right!” Liz agreed. “They were fighting about money, I think. Yeah, about money.”
    You’re babbling, Liz told herself. Just slow down. The more you say, the easier it will be for Valenti to catch you in a lie.
    Valenti raised one eyebrow. “And then what happened?”
    â€œAnd then one of the guys — the short one — pulled out a gun. The other guy tried to take it away from him, and the gun went off,” Liz answered.
    â€œI’ll need to get a description of both of them.” Valenti pulled a little notebook out of his pocket.
    Liz forced herself to laugh. “Definitely,” she said. “The guy with the gun had shaggy brown hair. He was about five-nine, maybe a hundred and eighty pounds.”
    â€œMustache, tattoos, anything like that?” Valenti asked.
    â€œI don’t think so.” Liz glanced at Maria for help. Dealing with the sheriff was making her