Thinking about Bennihof’s warnings, Cooper nevertheless decided to keep with his plan to interview Race. True, it could be sticky if Deon was around and decided to get twitchy about Cooper being at their house. But Cooper had no intention of talking to him about Troy. Sure, he’d like to, but he had other reasons for being there. It could get him in hot water with the chief, but he would take his chances. And he planned on checking with Dug Douglas, too, although it would be about Emma, not Greer.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Cooper drove up the long drive to the Stillwell house, planning what he was going to ask. Even knowing that things had started deteriorating around the place after the Stillwell parents’ deaths, he was a bit surprised to see how far things had gone down. He eyed the moss-covered roof, the missing bricks on the house, the holes in the driveway. It didn’t look like there’d been any upkeep since the sale of Stillwell Seed and Feed, and that had been years back.
He rang the bell and waited, then rang it again. Deon finally appeared, looking as if he’d just rolled out of bed, though it was close to six p.m.
“What, man?” he said, somewhat belligerently. “I’m not talking to you. I told your chief that. You’re in big trouble. I’m just saying.”
“I’m here to see Race.”
“Race ain’t here.”
Cooper had seen Race’s car. He knew which one it was. The same Mustang from twenty years earlier. For all the decrepit disrepair, Race kept that machine well-tuned. “I’ll wait.”
Deon looked like he was going to deny him, but Cooper just kept his eye on the man. Finally, Deon shrugged and wandered back down the hall. It wasn’t much of an invitation, but Cooper took it as such, letting himself in and closing the door behind him.
They met up in the kitchen. Cooper saw that Deon’s lackadaisical invitation was really a means to let his anger build up. He eyed Cooper with barely contained fury and went off on him, the police, the travesty of justice for his son, the people of River Glen who’d gleefully helped contribute to the Stillwell family’s dwindling fortunes, and so on and so forth. Cooper let the man rant as he looked around the kitchen. Half of the cabinets were without doors and those with doors were cockeyed on their hinges or gapped open. The counters were scratched and stained and a built-in butcher block cutting board had chips of wood missing. Deon slowed down when he saw Cooper’s silent assessment and said, “Those shitheads took us for everything. But we’ll get ’em back. Our lawyer says it’s guaranteed.”
Cooper made no comment on that. He started to ask where Race was when Deon cut him off.
“My boy had nothing to do with that break-in. He was just goofing with Dug’s kid, and they were fuckin’ around like you and Race and the rest of ’em when Emma got stabbed. Same thing.”
“Both crimes were home invasions,” Cooper said.
“What I’m telling you is, back off. All of you cops. Leave my boy alone or I’ll sue. I told your boss that. I think I could get you fired.” He smirked.
“I saw Race’s car. He upstairs?”
At that very moment, a thud of feet hitting the floor was heard overhead. Cooper looked up at the ceiling.
Deon was clearly thinking about how to play this. Cooper waited. He’d never really liked Deon Stillwell. He was a younger, meaner, louder, cruder version of Race.
Finally, he made his decision. “Race? Race? The po-po’s here!” he yelled.
He then walked away down a short hallway, and moments later, Cooper heard a door slam shut.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs, descending to the first floor. Cooper stepped into the hallway just as Race turned the corner, heading toward the kitchen. Race stopped short upon seeing him. “Haynes. What are you doing here?”
“Decided to stop by because I still want to talk to you.”
Race grunted, then said, “Troy’s at school. He’s going to his mother’s tonight, I think. Ask Deon.”
“I’m not here about Troy.”
“Well, River Glen PD’s been all over him. Why don’t you go after Dug’s son? He’s the one who instigated it all. Troy just went along.”
“I want to talk about Emma,” Cooper reminded him.
Race rolled his eyes and moved past Cooper to the kitchen. Cooper slowly followed and watched as Race pulled a longnecked Budweiser out of the refrigerator.
“Want one?” Race asked.
“No, thanks.”
“You still on duty?” He didn’t wait for a response as he headed to the small adjoining family room with two leather recliners, stained and split, a couple of side chairs, their fabric also stained. Cooper spun around one of the wooden chairs around the kitchen table and sat down carefully. The chair wobbled on uneven legs but held his weight. Race dropped into one of the recliners and reached for the remote, then, as if remembering Cooper’s purpose, set it back down. “So, what do you want to know?”
Cooper decided to try to approach Race as a friend, rather than one of River Glen’s lawmen. He wanted Race to remember their shared past. “I ran into Dug outside the Waystation the other night. Kinda got me thinking about Emma.”
“Emma.” He sighed. “What a fucking shame.” He took a pull on his beer.
Cooper tried to read him and felt he was being sincere. “When we all left that night, Dug walked home on his own. He stayed behind because he wanted to keep pranking Emma to impress you.”
Race half-laughed. “Dug just wanted a clear head before he showed up back at
