“Let’s go.” Holly followed Wallace down a corridor and into a small room. Two bedraggled kids in their late teens or early twenties sat at a table in the adjoining room. Bob Hurst sat opposite them, and a policewoman stood in a corner and watched.
“It’s S.O.P. to have a woman present when a woman is being interrogated,” Wallace said.
“I know. How long has the questioning been going on?”
“Since midnight.”
“Has somebody read them their rights?”
“Yes, at the very beginning. They’ve signed off on that.”
“Have they asked for a lawyer?”
“I suppose not, or they’d have one.”
“Okay, let’s listen.”
The voices came through clearly over a small speaker:
“All right, let’s go over this again,” Hurst said.
“I told you what happened,” the young man said.
“Tell me again; I want to be sure I understand. What was your van doing parked beside the road late the night before last?”
“We had been to a movie, and we had a flat, right before we got back to our camp. I changed the tire and drove on home.”
“What time did you have the flat?”
“Between ten-thirty and ten forty-five.”
“And what time did you drive on?”
“It took me fifteen or twenty minutes to change the tire, so I guess between ten forty-five and eleven o’clock.”
“Where did you go to the movies?”
“At the multiplex on the mainland.”
“What movie did you see?”
“
“What time was the movie over?”
“Around ten o’clock, maybe a little after.”
“And why did it take you forty-five minutes to make the fifteen-minute drive back to your camp?”
“We stopped at McDonald’s and got some fries and a Coke. I told you that already.”
“And how did you come to have the Beretta in your possession?” Hurst asked.
“I told you, our dog found it.”
“Your dog has a personal interest in firearms?”
“He didn’t exactly find it. I let him out early the next morning, and he wouldn’t come when I called him. I found him sniffing around the fence that separates the highway from the property where we’re camping. I went to take hold of his collar, and I stepped on the gun.”
“How close to the fence?”
“I don’t know, six or eight feet, maybe.”
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“What for?”
“The gun didn’t belong to you. Why didn’t you turn it in to us?”
“Look, man, it was a free gun, you know? Finders keepers. I had no idea who it belonged to.”
“You like guns, do you?”
“Well, yeah, I guess so.”
“What other guns do you own?”
“I’ve got a little six-shooter, a thirty-two.”
“And where is it?”
“In the van, maybe.”
Wallace spoke up. “We found the thirty-two Smith and Wesson in the glove compartment of the van; it’s going to the state lab this morning. They don’t have a license for it, and there was a little over a gram of cocaine powder hidden under a seat.”
“Tell me about when you got back to your camp, after changing the tire,” Hurst said.
“We didn’t go straight back to the camp. I drove down A1A and left our flat tire at a filling station to be fixed. The Texaco station.”
“The station was open that late?”
“No, I left the wheel on his doorstep with a note. I went back there yesterday afternoon and picked it up. I know the guy. We buy our gas there.”
“We’re checking out that story right now,” Wallace said.
“And what time did you get back to your camp?”
“Must have been eleven-thirty.”
“They just missed the shooting,” Wallace said. “Very convenient.”
“Look, man,” the suspect said, “I’m tired. I haven’t had any sleep, and I don’t know what this is about. I’m sorry I didn’t turn in the gun, okay? Is it a crime not to turn in a gun you found? What’s going on here?”
“Okay, I’m going to let you get some sleep, and we’ll talk about this later.”
“What’s going on, man? This isn’t about a lost gun, is it? There’s something else going on.”
“You tell me, Sammy,” Hurst said.
“Tell you
Hurst spoke to the policewoman. “Put them in the lockup.” He got up and left the room. A moment later, he walked into the observation room, where Wallace and Holly were. “They did it,” Hurst said. “I know it.”
“What’s the evidence?”
“Possession of the chief’s weapon, tire track matching the cast I took, no alibi for the time, and the thirty- two. It’s time to get the county attorney involved.”
Holly turned to Wallace. “I want somebody to drive the thirty-two to the state lab in Tallahassee, wait while they do the test and phone us with the results. If they’re positive, then we’ll charge them.”
“Right,” Wallace said, then left the room.
“What about the Doherty murder?” Holly asked.
“If the thirty-two ballistics match, I’ll get a confession,” Hurst replied. “Then they’ll cop to Hank’s murder, too.”
“A very neat package,” Holly said. “I hope it holds together.” That was no lie: she wanted this to happen, so she could clear these cases and get them off her mind.
Jane knocked and came into the room. “There’s a Mrs. Warner on the phone for you.”
“I’ll take it in my office.” She turned to Hurst. “Good job. Let’s wrap this up real tight.” She went to her office and picked up the phone. “Mrs. Warner?”
“Yes, Chief. We’re at the airport in Atlanta, and we’re leaving right now for Orchid Beach—my husband has an airplane. I wanted to know where I should go when we get there.”
“What time do you expect to land?”
“About eleven-thirty or twelve.”
“I’ll meet you at the airport and drive you to Hank’s place.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you.”
“See you at eleven-thirty.” Holly hung up the phone and sighed. If she could just get through this day, if it went right, then she could relax and start to get a grip on her job.
CHAPTER
