All Things Lost by Josh Aterovis Page A

gave me a bit more that they haven't released to the newspapers yet. It seems the kid, Caleb, threatened to kill his old man in front of a couple police officers the last time they were called out there, by a neighbor I might add. Apparently it was common knowledge that the guy beat up on his kid on a regular basis. It seems our Mr. Cohen was a real prize, a championship sleazeball . I imagine it's going to get ugly for the child protective services before it's over.”
         “Why?”
         “The kid should have been out of the house long ago, but nothing was ever done. Anyway, the kid was taken out of the home and placed into a group home while yet another investigation took place. The problem is the kid disappeared from the home on the day of the murder and wasn't seen again until some uniforms picked him up on the boardwalk a couple days ago. His story is that from previous experience, he fully expected to be returned to his father and he wasn't having any of it, so he took off. Bad choice as it turns out, especially if he's telling the truth, which the police don't think he is. Right now, he's their favorite suspect. Make that only suspect.”
         “What do you think?”
         “I don't have enough information to think anything at this point. From what little I do know there isn't any real evidence against the boy. All they have is a threat that almost anyone would have made in the same situation and his disappearance, which may have been just as he said. On the other hand, it doesn't take an overactive imagination to understand the rage and helplessness the kid must have been feeling. Cornered people do desperate things and this murder was definitely a crime of passion.”
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    “Simple. You don't chop someone up who you mildly dislike or just want out of the way. That takes an intense hatred or a psycho, as I mentioned earlier. Now, I've spent enough time today on a case that I'm not even getting paid for. I'm going to get back to my paying cases and I suggest you get back to work as well. We'll look at this again on Monday if I have time.”
    I took the dismissal for what it was and returned to my desk. The phone began to ring before my bottom even hit the chair. The rest of the day was fairly routine . I thought all the excitement was over for a while. Boy, was I wrong.  
    Chapter 7

         Chaos greeted me as I walked through the front door of our house that evening. The sounds of pot and pans banging around came from the direction of the kitchen, where I deduced that Adam must be cooking. Steve was struggling to add the extra leaf to our antique (and very stubborn) dining table. Kane was busily vacuuming and over all this, the radio was loudly blaring dance music.
         I rushed over to help Steve with the table. “What's going on?” I asked as I tugged on my end. It slowly slid grudgingly open far enough to accommodate the leaf.
         “We're having company,” Steve grunted as he dropped the leaf into place. “Push,” he ordered.
         “So I gathered,” I gave the table a shove and it slid back together.  “Of the last minute variety I assume. Do I get to know who it is or do I have to wait until they arrive?”
          “Judy and Jake. It was Adam's idea.”
         My stomach did a funny little flutter at the mention of Jake's name but I tried to just ignore it. I thought that Steve sounded a little disgruntled by our eleventh-hour guests, but then again I may have been reading too much into it.
         I wondered into the kitchen and decided I wasn't just imagining things. Adam was wearing a very grim expression as he attacked a large bowl of salad as if the greens had offended him.
         “What did that lettuce do to you?” I asked lightly. He jumped and looked up.
         “Killian,” he said, as if surprised to see me.
         “Yeah, I live here, remember?”
         “I didn't hear you come in.”