Free Bullseye by Virginia Smith Page A

paper off. “The television folks seem pretty convinced.”
    The kid’s expression became almost hostile. “I don’t care what the TV says, mister, I don’t believe it. I know Alex, too, a little, and there’s no way he’d shoot José.”
    A smile spread across Karina’s face, and her grateful eyes practically embraced the kid. Mason ignored her.
    “Oh?” He shoved the straw into his glass and wadded the paper into a tight wad. “Were you there that night? Did you see what happened?”
    His gaze fell away, and his weight shifted from one foot to the other. “No,” he admitted.
    “So if you didn’t see what happened, then how do you know José’s friend didn’t shoot him, just like the police say he did?”
    “I just know, that’s all.”
    Mason pushed. “But how do you know?”
    The kid didn’t answer. His jaw became hard, stubborn, and he returned Mason’s calm gaze with increasing hostility. For a moment Mason thought he might give them something, a piece of important information that would point them in the right direction. Then the teen’s expression became stonelike.
    “Your enchiladas won’t take long,” he ground out through set teeth. “I’ll bring them out as soon as they’re ready.”
    He left abruptly, and disappeared behind a swinging door in the far wall. Mason spared a hope that he hadn’t angered the kid enough that he’d do something disgusting, like spit on his enchiladas.
    Karina watched him go, then turned a satisfied grin toward Mason. “See? Nobody who knows Alex would ever think he could do something like that.”
    Mason stared after the kid. Unfortunately, he got the impression the boy was simply defending a friend, not speaking from specific knowledge. If there was something behind his denial besides loyalty, he was hiding it better than Mason thought he could.
    “Too bad,” he remarked to Karina.
    “What do you mean?”
    He picked up his water glass and sipped from the straw. “I don’t care how many of his buddies insist Alex wouldn’t hurt José, it’s going to take more than a few character witnesses to clear him of murder charges. We need someone who saw them that night.”
    She sagged against the chair back, shoulders slumped. Mason felt a stab of guilt. He hated to pop her bubble, but she needed to be realistic. With the evidence the police had against Alex, even though it was circumstantial, Mason would have to come up with something pretty substantial to convince the judge to release him.
    “Sorry.” He reached across the table and covered her hand. “But don’t lose hope. We’ve hardly begun. We’ll come up with something soon.”
    She rewarded him with a grateful smile, and didn’t move her hand. Mason sat there, his arm extended across the table, his fingers growing warm where they touched her skin, reluctant to pull back and break the moment. It was almost as if years had fallen away, and she was looking to him to solve her problems, to be the strong one and provide the support she needed. He liked the feeling.
    Finally she slid her hand out from beneath his and placed it in her lap. Her gaze didn’t quite meet his.
    “Do you have any ideas?”
    The truth was, he didn’t. But he had more than an idea. He had a suspicion. And he knew where to go to figure out if that suspicion would pan out.
    * * *
    “Yeah, the name’s Maddox.” Mason spoke into his cell phone while they crossed the parking lot toward the rental car. “M-A-D-D-O-X. Russell.”
    “You know, you could do a simple internet search yourself.”
    Brent, his friend and the third member of the Falsely Accused Support Team, sounded like he was standing right beside Mason, thanks to the ridiculously expensive and super fancy phone he’d insisted they all carry. Brent was the geek of the group, and owned every gadget on the market.
    “I could,” Mason agreed, “if I had access to a computer, but we’re getting in the car at the moment.”
    “Use your smartphone,” Brent