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The guy in the interview room says he's Peeta Mellark. He's not carrying identification, and his prints aren't in the state or federal system, so he could be anybody. I don't know if he has a reason to lie. He's young. Looks like shit. My first thought was junkie, but his eyes are clear.
The kid can't keep his leg still. I say leg, singular because he only has the one. I know that detail because my report states that when Peeta Mellark was brought in, the upper right-hand portion of his blood-soaked jeans was torn away, revealing a prosthetic leg attached well above his knee. Now he's in county-issued scrubs. We were out of sweats and T-shirts. He's not under arrest. He has no wounds, no scratches or caked skin under his nails, only the beginnings of a large bruise on the side of his face. And a story that can't be true. Can it?
"Your leg a recent injury?" I ask, leaning back in my chair.
The kid shakes his head, never breaking stride with the leg. None of that blood on him was his. I know that. I'm just trying to get him talking.
"Childhood cancer. I lost my leg maybe twelve years ago. Good thing, too. If I'd just got the new one attached, I wouldn't have got away tonight. Took a while to get used to it," he explains, patting his left leg. "Wasn't the fastest runner to begin with. My ma says I stomp around like a bear."
He's rambling, but it's understandable if there's an inch of truth to his story. "Lucky guy. Well, Peeta, let's get directly to the point. I looked over the statement you gave Officer Leeg and watched the interview. I have some concerns."
Peeta meets my eye. Despite the jackshit he told Leeg, I'd swear he's not on anything. "I know it sounds crazy---"
"Yeah, it does."
"You should've been there," he said. "Do I have to tell you everything again? I'm, ah, I'm about to pass out or something. Haven't slept much the last few days."
"No, that's alright. Just answer a few questions if you wouldn't mind."
"Do I need a lawyer?" He asks, leg finally stopping.
"It's never a bad idea. But we're not figuring you as the perpetrator at this point. I can call you a public defender if you want."
He considers the offer and then waves it off. "Nah."
"So, everything is settled. We can begin. Peeta, you told Officer Leeg that at approximately seven p.m., you were out on Highway 12, looking to hitch a ride. Never a good idea, you know that, right?" I add for good measure. "All kinds of things are liable to happen, as you well know."
Peeta shrugs. "I don't have a car. Still have places I need to get to."
"Ever heard of Uber?"
"Got to have money for that or at least plastic. I'm a little short at the moment."
"Seems like your ass just dropped in from Jupiter or something."
He laughs. Starting to loosen up. "No, I'm not claiming an alien abducted me."
"No. No mention of that. Let's go over what happened again, alright? I'll read over things and ask questions where it's warranted. So you're on Highway 12 with your thumb out when a Chevy truck, mid 80's model, you think?"
Peeta nods. "Tan and white. Decent shape. Some rust."
"And inside the truck's cab were three young men about your age. They had dark hair and an olive complexion, you said."
He squints at me. "Yes, they had a similar look to yours. Do you have many relations around here?"
"A Lot of us look alike in Seamtown. There was probably lots of inbreeding in the old days." He laughs at that, and I wave my snark off. "Kidding. We're backwoods, but all of our DNA strands don't match. So, back to your statement---these fellas offer to give you a ride."
For someone who said he was too tired to relay the whole story again, Peeta dives in head first. "Yep. There was no room in the cab, but the bed was empty. Was riding with them maybe half an hour before things started getting weird. It was really dark before Gale, the driver, flipped the headlights on. Seconds before before he slammed on the brakes. I about jumped out of my skin when something bounced off the front of the truck. I figured it was a deer. Lots of deer on the move around here at night. He didn't give me time to look around; he just started arguing with the other two fellas- his brothers, I think- before pushing the pedal to the floor. Seemed in a big hurry to get away. Anyway, he cut the headlights off, so I didn't get a look at what he hit with the truck, but whatever it was didn't look like a deer."
Now we're getting to the first interesting part of Peeta Mellark's statement to my officer: the part where it sounds like Gale Hawthorne (it's a small place, Seamtown) and his younger brothers involved themselves in a hit-and-run on Highway 12.
"So we've gone about five or so miles down the road, I guess, when Gale swerves to the side of the road and comes to a stop. 'This is as far as I can take you,' he said. He sounded frantic. 'Hop out.'"
"He never got out of the truck. It's nighttime, black as pitch by now, and I'm not excited about being left alone on the side of the road. Still, getting me out of the truck bed takes no convincing after what happened. Something was off , and I'd rather part company with them before anything else goes wrong. They might be looking to get rid of a witness if something bad had happened."
"So I hop out of the back of the truck and tell Gale thanks. He mutters something, then guns it out onto the road, and soon, the only thing I can make out is his taillights. I was still figuring out what to do next when I heard it. Breaks squealing and tires screaming across the pavement, trying to stop fast. Then, that crashing sound, twisting, popping, tearing metal that makes you sick to your stomach."
I know exactly what he's describing. Been witness to too many accidents to get those sounds out of my head.
"Gale, he'd hit something else, and whatever it was, it was way bigger than a deer. I take off in a dead sprint towards the truck—at least as fast as I can run, thanks to my bionic leg. They're a good two or three miles down the road, but I'm fairly close when, all of a sudden, I'm not running on the road anymore—I'm off the ground. Feet dangling ten fuckin' feet above the pavement."
"I can't remember much after that, just the explosion when the truck's fuel tank must have blown. That's what the other officer said: it blew up. Whatever had me, some kind of huge bird, maybe some guy in a glider or something? Dropped me onto the road, maybe 50 yards past the truck. That's when my pants got ripped. I don't know where all that blood came from. I'm sorry. I don't remember everything that happened tonight. Might have hit my head when that thing dropped me."
Peeta's brows knit together as his relay of the events ends. He leans forward in his chair. "Chief Abernathy, can I ask you something? That officer I talked to earlier, Leeg? She wouldn't tell me what Gale hit with his truck when I was with them. I don't...I don't think it was a deer. It's driving me crazy. He drove off so fast, I can't help wondering if he hit someone with the truck."
I fold my arms on the tabletop and sigh. No reason to lie. The kid figured it out on his own. "Between me and you, we found a young woman in the location you described."
The color drains from his face. "Was she okay?" he asked.
There's a note of hope in his voice I hated to dash. "Nah, kid. She's dead."
His eyes glaze over, and he slumps backward as the reality hits him. "Hers is a sad story," I admit. "Second, hell, make that the third tragedy to happen in that family. The girl's parents died in a house fire. The oldest daughter was asleep in bed at the time. The fire didn't kill her but left burns across her whole body. Lost her mind. The county sent her somewhere for mental treatment---girl claimed she was some sort of mythological bird. Like a phoenix, but that's not what she called it. Happened a dozen or so odd years ago."
"A Mockingjay," Peeta said, turning to face the two-way mirror in the room. "I read something about her somewhere," he added casually.
I snap my fingers. "Yeah, that was it. Mockingjay. The girl disappeared from the facility one day. Katniss Everdeen. The young lady who died tonight was her sister Prim. You wonder how much a person can take without breaking all that death and pain. I don't know what Katniss would do if she found out about her sister's death on top of everything else."
"Maybe she already knows," Peeta says, his leg shaking again. "Uh, confession time, I guess."
He waves his hands. "Not about anything tonight. I was at the facility with her, with Katniss, I mean. We kind of had a thing, I don't know. I left right after she disappeared. I didn't go home. I guess I've been wandering around the area, looking for her since."
"Really. Odd that you weren't in our system, then."
Peeta rolls his eyes. "It was a physical rehab place, not drug detox. We weren't criminals. What happened to Gale and his brothers?"
I shake my head. "Gale's in the morgue. One brother with him. One in intensive care."
"Shit," he murmurs, rubbing his eyes. "Christ. Hey, am I free to go?"
I stand. "Free as the wind. Just let us know before you head out of town. Do you have somewhere to go tonight, kid?"
Peeta nods. "Yeah, I think so."
When he stands, I pat him on the shoulder. "Thanks again. I'll see if we have something else you can wear."
Within a half hour or so, we had Peeta on his way. I don't know where he planned to go, but I never saw him again after that. It was almost like he'd been plucked off the ground by whatever that thing was and put somewhere safe.