Free The Survivor by DiAnn Mills Page A

we get together Saturday afternoon around two thirty? I want to get started answering your questions and filling in the details.”
    Kariss would question her again when they met in person. “Saturday afternoon should work fine. Is it okay if I record our conversations?”
    “I expected it. Due to the topic, would you mind coming to my office? It’s not far. I don’t want what I have to say overheard in a public place until it’s in book form.”
    “No problem. I know where your office is located.”
    “Good. And Kariss, please don’t post this on Facebook or Twitter.” Amy’s voice faltered. “My family doesn’t support my decision, but I’m moving ahead regardless.”

CHAPTER 11
    JANUARY 18
    7:30 A.M. FRIDAY
    T igo’s patience had been stretched to the max. Inside the high school boys’ locker room, the head basketball coach, Frank Ofsteller, eyed him and Ryan as though they’d been caught smoking.
    “Why do you want information about Curt and Ian Yeat?” Suspicion and a thick layer of distrust crusted his words. “Their mother and sister were blown to pieces in a car they weren’t supposed to be driving. Looks cut and dried to me. The two are paying for an act of revenge. Those boys need time to grieve. To get past this.”
    “We’re investigating every angle,” Tigo said. “Did either of them have problems with the other players?”
    “No.”
    “Did they run with a specific crowd?”
    “You’re wasting your time, ‘cause you haven’t caught the jerk who killed Mrs. Yeat and her daughter. Are you saying that because Curt and Ian are black, they look for trouble? Run with a gang? ‘Cause you’re nuts. My boys are good kids.”
    Tigo glanced at Ryan in hopes his partner could defuse the coach’s defensiveness.
    “Race hasn’t a thing to do with this,” Ryan said. “We’re only looking for those persons who might want to harm these boys. We want the killer found so the family can deal with life today and not fear for their future.”
    “It doesn’t matter which one of you is asking the questions, because neither of you know what you’re talking about.”
    “Sir, I’m sure your team has been affected by this too, which is why we need your help,” Ryan said.
    “Forget it.”
    Ryan chuckled, which meant he was ready for Tigo to tighten the noose.
    “For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve avoided every question we’ve asked.” Tigo stared into the coach’s face. “You’ve looked for an excuse to toss us out of here like a pair of dirty socks. We can get a subpoena for school records, or you can answer our questions. Unless you want to drive to our office. Your choice.”
    The coach stepped into Tigo’s personal space, nose to nose. He looked to be in his early sixties and was definitely in shape.
    “You have something to say?” Tigo smiled into the coach’s smirk.
    “I don’t appreciate your method of investigation, marching in here with your fancy FBI credentials. You don’t own me or this school. All I ask is that my boys work hard, make decent grades, and keep their noses clean. Period.”
    “I think you have something to hide.”
    The coach pursed his lips. “My boys’ personal lives are just that. If they need to talk, I’m here to listen. Curt and Ian live by my rules.”
    “At the beginning of our interview, I asked if they were well liked by their peers,” Tigo said. “I’m still waiting for an answer.”
    “Of course. Lots of friends.” The coach took a step back. “Curt has outstanding skills, and he’s a highly respected team player. Scouts have been looking at him since he was a freshman. Ian’s working on his game.”
    “Any fights?”
    “I’m their coach, remember? If there’s ever a problem, Itake care of it. Look, I have things to do. Talk to the counselor. I have a class to prepare for and a team that’s not ready for tonight’s game.”
    Tigo’s patience had worn thinner than a piece of paper. “When’s practice?”
    The coach raised