Max worked quickly. Knight kept his weapon on Hollace, steady and sure. The man could charge at any moment. He wasn’t stupid. Max was in a precarious position until Hollace was secured, and they all knew it.
“What’s this about? I didn’t do anything wrong,” Hollace started shouting.
Max secured his hands behind him. “You know what you did. There was an innocent woman and baby there. A baby. What do you have to say about that?”
Knight could sense the crowd encircling them now. Miranda’s family were about to burst through the glass doors to the diner at any minute. There were diner patrons with their noses pressed right up to the glass.
He hated small towns.
“Let’s get him out of here before we have a riot.” Knight finally looked away as Max started reading Hollace his rights.
Weatherby stood there, a perplexed look on his face and an unconscious Talley woman in his arms. “No kidding. As soon as I decide what to do with her.”
Knight snorted, then gave a dark laugh. He understood that feeling, for sure. “Good luck. That’s Miranda Talley’s younger sister you’ve got right there. What did he do to her?”
“I don’t have a clue.”
“Her family’s in there,” Knight told him. “Get her inside. They can do the rest.”
“I sure hope so. I think she’s coming around.”
“Yeah. Good luck with that one. That’s a Talley. From what I’ve seen—they’re trouble. In every possible way.”
Knight just left Weatherby there. He and Max would handle Hollace for the time being. Weatherby had his own hands full—and probably would for quite a while.
53
It was the spittle that grossed her out the most. Jac didn’t like to think that she was a wimp, but when it came to bodily fluids, she was a bit squeamish. Jim Hollace sat in the interview chair, hands cuffed to the table legs—the DCI interview rooms were a bit more sophisticated than the one at the Masterson County Sheriff’s Office—and just stared, a defeated expression on his unremarkable face. “Mr. Hollace—”
“Officer Hollace,” he practically spat at her. Jac resisted the urge to wipe her cheeks. She didn’t think any droplets had gotten on her, but it still made her skin crawl.
“Why don’t we settle on Jim?” the man next to her asked coolly. Sheriff Joel Masterson had that steady-as-a-rock thing going on for him. She’d met his wife before. When they’d been extras in the movie together. Phoebe had played the part of Jac’s younger sister. But Jac hadn’t interacted with the sheriff that much. “I don’t think you’ll be with the Wyoming State Police after what happened today, do you?”
The older man’s face flushed. “I—I—I—”
“You dropped a receipt in Clint Gunderson’s front yard. As well as your brass. And you were placed at the scene by two federal agents and eight witnesses,” the sheriff said. Now she heard the temper. “Did you know Clint’s infant daughter was in the barn with Maggie Tyler? The nanny? You hit the nanny, Jim.”
He paled. “I—”
Jac leaned forward. They knew he was the one who’d done it. Miranda had forwarded his photo to Carrie, who’d confirmed with Maggie Tyler that Jim was the one she’d seen. “You were seen, you were recognized, and your squad car was identified. There’s gray paint from the truck you scraped against fleeing the scene right there on your patrol vehicle. My brothers’ truck—the one I loaned to the FBI. The bullet casings you left behind are already on their way to the FBI crime lab in St. Louis—they’ll be expedited by our people. We have you…dead to rights. You hit Maggie Tyler, Jim. With a bullet. While she was holding a baby. If you don’t want this to go bad for you, you may want to start talking.”
“I…” His head bowed down, and she almost thought he sniffled. “I didn’t mean to hurt no one. I was just pissed at Gunderson, that’s all.”
“And you were drunk,” the sheriff said with disgust. “I can smell it on you still. Your file with IA is a mile thick, most of the problems alcohol-related.”
“I was getting help for that.”
“Until today?” Jac said. “Why?”
“I just was stupid.”
No kidding. Jac paused a moment, trying to determine just how to proceed.
“Why were you so angry at Clint Gunderson?” As far as she knew, Clint hadn’t done anything specific to Jim Hollace; at least, not since this case had started. There could be previous history—and that made sense—but she didn’t know what would have brought it to the surface now. “Does it have something to do with what happened to Helen Caudrell?”
He sent a baleful look in her direction. Jac just stared at him. Evaluating. She’d read through his file with the WSP. It wasn’t exactly interesting reading. Jim Hollace would never be winning any awards for his service—that was for sure. There were reprimands for everything from excessive use of force to being intoxicated on the job. The most remarkable part about his career was that he was still on the job, to be frank. “You know how this works, Jim. Be honest with us. It will be noted. You’re going to jail today. You’ll be booked, processed, and arraigned. It’ll be better for you if you’re cooperative.”
“How bad was the girl hurt? The nanny.”
“Not life-threatening. But she was very scared. There was blood all over her—and all over Clint Gunderson’s baby—when she was found. Miranda Talley, my colleague, found her. After you nearly sent her and another woman over a cliff. Fortunately, Miranda was able to get Maggie the help she needed. The baby was crying and screaming. Covered with blood. Can you imagine how terrified Maggie was, seeing the blood on the baby?” Jac kept her tone calm, even though her words were causing a visible reaction in the man across from her. “Why?”
“I just wasn’t thinking. I was driving around, thinking about what happened fourteen years ago. And—”
“Drinking.”
He gave
