Munez said, “We’ve towed your Jeep in, but I’d like your consent to perform a search of the vehicle.”
“Sure. Can I ask what you’re looking for?”
“Methamphetamine. Chemicals or supplies used in the production of methamphetamine. Firearms. Large stacks of cash.” He smiled at me. “I somehow don’t think we’ll find anything like that, but we need to be thorough.”
“I understand. Do I just wait here?”
“It’ll only take a few minutes,” Munez told me, rising. “We’re going to need your clothes, I’m afraid. I’ll have a deputy bring you a change.”
“You need my clothes?”
“Evidence. The deputy will take you to a washroom, you can get cleaned up and changed.”
“Washroom would be great,” I said, and gave him the same smile he’d been giving me.
When they left, the female deputy came back with a bundle under her arm, and she walked me to the ladies’ room, stayed with me while I changed. I stripped off the jeans and shirt, then spent ten minutes getting the blood off my arms and hands before putting on the replacements. The jeans she gave me were blue and clean and enormous on me. I had to roll the cuffs up, and the waist kept slipping because she had to take my belt, too. The shirt was big, dark green, with the Lane County Sheriff logo on it, and comfortable. I wondered whose clothes I was wearing. When I saw myself in the mirror I looked silly as hell.
When I was finished, the deputy walked me back to the interview room without a word. Hoffman and Munez hadn’t returned yet. I tried to think if I had anything embarrassing in my car, if I was going to need an explanation. If they went through absolutely everything, I figured the worst they would find would be some bad Euro Pop CDs.
It took close to another hour before they returned, around three-thirty when Munez came back, Hoffman still with him. He brought his papers again, and they took the same seats.
“We’re finished with your vehicle, Miss Bracca,” Munez said. “You’ll be pleased to know we didn’t find anything questionable, and we rotated your tires for you.”
I laughed, and he grinned, pleased that I’d accepted his joke, then checked his notes once again. Hoffman shifted in her seat. He seemed to actively ignore her.
“So, what does this have to do with your father’s disappearance?” he asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“Detective Hoffman tells me that this all has something to do with the fact that your father disappeared and your brother died and you being famous and like that and the pictures on the Net. She thinks maybe one or both of the Quicks knew your father at OSP. Your dad was an inmate there, wasn’t he?”
I shook my head, doing my best to look bewildered. “I don’t know anything about that. The first I knew that Chris and Brian had been at OSP was when Detective Hoffman told me.”
“Hmm,” Munez said, and scribbled some more notes, then took a moment to look over everything he’d written. Then he produced two typewritten pages and slid them to me. “Would you read these over, please?”
I read the pages. It was a typed statement about what had happened at the Quicks’. There was nothing I disagreed with.
When I looked up again, Munez slid me his pen. “If you agree with the statement, I’d like your signature and a date at the bottom.”
I gave him both, slid the pages and the pen back.
Munez checked them again, then tapped the sheets together on the tabletop, squaring the edges. “Okay, you can go.”
Hoffman snapped as if he’d lost his fucking mind. “What?”
He ignored her. “Thanks for your time, Miss Bracca. If we need to contact you, you’ll be at your home?”
“Yes, I gave the number to the deputies.”
“She’s a material witness,” Hoffman said. “Put her in a goddamn cell!”
Munez looked at her, and it was clear that no matter how much Hoffman had wanted to belt me before, I was maybe coming in second in the hostility department right now. It was clear, too, this wasn’t the first time they’d had this fight.
“Well, Detective,” Munez said. “If this was
“Then hold her for twenty-four.” I had to give Hoffman credit for stubbornness. “Suspicion of murder for Christopher Quick.”
“And risk a suit for harassment? C’mon, Detective. Even if her GSR hadn’t come back negative, you and I both know she didn’t cap him, the brother did. There’s nothing in her vehicle or on her person tying her to the crime, and as far as I’m concerned, her story more than checks out.”
“I’ve explained this. You’ve got the pictures, you’ve got the people who did it, you’ve got the fact that her brother was murdered last week, her father disappeared this past Tuesday—”
“Tuesday, huh?” Munez got his things together, then went and opened the door for me. I got up to join him.
“I just need you to sit on her for a couple of hours,” Hoffman told him. “You can do that much.”
Munez smiled tightly at me. “You get back to Portland, Miss Bracca, you might want to file a missing persons report about your father. Been gone since Tuesday, that’s nearly forty-eight hours. We’ll call if we have further questions, like I said. You can talk to the deputy at the desk about your vehicle, he’ll tell you where you can retrieve it.”
“Thank you,” I said.
I heard Hoffman yelling at Munez through the door as I went down the hall.
The female deputy was at the desk, and she gave me my car keys and directions to where I could find it. I thanked her and made my way to the Jeep. Thursday late afternoon, Parka Man’s deadline was Friday at noon. I’d make it back in plenty of time, but climbing behind the wheel, I knew how close a call it had been. Maybe Munez liked my smile, maybe Munez didn’t like Hoffman, maybe Munez just couldn’t be bothered; whatever the reason, I’d gotten out lucky.
I pulled out of the garage, onto the street, and Marcus was there, and he raised a hand to flag me down. I stopped but didn’t get out of the car.
“Headed home?” he asked.
“Why? You gonna be back tonight?”
He made a slight, almost amused grunt, but there was a weight on him, now, a shadow, and he looked tired. “Somebody’ll be there. We’ve got a mountain or three of paperwork that’ll have to be filled out.”
“About me?”
“We fired several rounds at Mr. Quick as he was departing. The whole incident has to be accounted for.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“For?”
“I’m pretty sure you guys saved my life.”
“And here I was about to tell you how close you came to losing it.”
“Trying not to think about that.”
“You know, Miss Bracca, it wasn’t just you who almost died. Quick was throwing those bullets our way when the shooting started.”
“I’m glad he missed.”
“Not as much as we are.” There was no mirth in it. “Don’t you think it’s time you stopped dicking us around?”
The sky had gone to a late-afternoon blue, and there was purple rising to the west with the sunset, rain- heavy clouds. I hoped it would hold off until I was home.
“No, huh?” Marcus asked.
“You want to ask me anything else,” I said, “you’ll have to talk to my attorney.”
