Cain crunched The Rig to a stop in the park’s empty gravel lot. Harper pointed through the rain-misted windshield. Marla was walking their way, her hoodie pulled up over her head against the light drizzle. She apparently saw them, hesitated, cut right into the trees, and disappeared. About thirty yards beyond her, Cain saw Jason standing beneath a tree. He looked directly at them, then with forced casualness slid behind the trunk.
“I’d say Marla just scored,” Harper said.
“Looks that way.”
“Which means Jason is probably holding. That might give us some leverage.”
“Or we could just break his arms.”
Harper gave a quick laugh. “Yeah, I don’t care much for him either.”
They stepped out and headed Jason’s way. He peeked around the tree as they approached.
“How’re you doing, Jason?” Cain asked.
“What’s it to you?”
Jason the tough guy. This was going to be fun.
“We weren’t formally introduced this morning. Over at the Finleys. I’m Cain. This is Harper.”
“That supposed to mean something to me?” Jason said, chin up, wearing an arrogant smirk.
“We’re looking into the murder of Tommy Finley and his family and the abduction of Dr. Buckner from the ER.”
“Ain’t that Chief Crowe’s job?”
“Ours, too,” Harper said. “We were hired by Dr. Buckner’s father to find him.”
Jason gave her a blank stare. Water drops plunked the leaves overhead. “So what? You think he’s here in the park?” He slouched against the tree trunk, cigarette dangling from one corner of his mouth. Playing it cool, unconcerned.
Maybe too cool. Cain knew that most folks, even innocent folks, got nervous when talking to an investigator. Any type of investigator. Cops, private types, each raised the tension. Most guilty folks become hyper-alert, fidgety, dilated pupils, gaze unable to settle on anything, speech too fast, too flighty. All the signs of stress, or guilt. But some, even the guiltiest, remain calm and composed. Or at least able to present that face.
Which was Jason? Innocent and calm, or guilty and a good actor?
“We came to the park to find you,” Harper said.
“Why’d you think I’d be here?” Now questions appeared behind his eyes, stress lines at the corners.
“It’s where you do business,” Cain said.
“I ain’t doing no business. Even if I was, it ain’t no bother to you.”
Cain slid his hands in his pockets, nodded. “You see, Jason, we’ve got a problem here. An entire family was executed last night. A cold blooded killing.”
“Don’t see how that’s got anything to do with me.”
“That’s part of my problem. I know Tommy and you were friends, and business associates. Yet his murder, his family’s murder, doesn’t seem to have had any effect on you. Not this morning at the scene and not now.”
Jason dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his shoe. “You don’t know nothing about me.”
“We only know what we know,” Harper said. “And what you tell us. So let’s start with you and Tommy. What’s the story?”
“I don’t have to talk to you.”
Harper sighed. “No, Jason, you don’t. You could try to simply walk away and I could slap you to the ground.”
“You can’t threaten me.”
Harper smiled but said nothing.
“I’ve got rights.” Stress tightened Jason’s voice, pitched it higher.
“Yes, you do,” Cain said. “But since you just made a deal with Marla, you’re probably holding.”
“So after I whack you in the face,” Harper said, “we could call Chief Crowe and let her dig around in your pockets. How about that?”
Jason hesitated, glanced toward the trees where Marla had disappeared, buying time. Probably deciding if it was best to talk or flee. Finally, he spoke. “Not much to tell. We’d known each other since we were kids. We’ve been friends forever.”
“Now he’s gone. How do you feel about that?”
“How do you think I feel?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Harper said. “That’s why I’m asking.”
“I feel bad.”
“Bad? That’s it? You feel bad?”
He shrugged and looked past her toward the trees again. “Don’t know what else to tell you.”
“How about who you think might have done this?” Cain said.
“I don’t know nothing about it.”
“What about the robbery over at Shaffer’s Pharmacy? Where Mr. Shaffer was killed? Know anything about that?”
Jason looked directly at Cain. “What? I didn’t know about that. Someone robbed Shaffer’s?”
Harper nodded. “Sure did. Shot Mr. Shaffer in the head.”
Cain could almost hear the hum and crackle of Jason’s nerves. His gaze bounced here and there, eyes wider, face muscles tense.
“You saying it was me?” Jason asked. “That’s what you’re saying?”
“Are we?” Cain asked.
His jaw set. “Sounds that way to me.”
“If we were saying that, would we be wrong?” Harper asked.
“Absolutely.” His fists balled at his sides. “I don’t like any of this. You’re accusing me of killing Mr. Shaffer. Tommy and his family.”
“We haven’t accused you of anything,” Cain said. “We’re just asking. Doing our job.”
“I don’t know nothing about any of that. All I know is that here you are going all Gestapo on me.”
“Gestapo?” Harper asked.
“Yeah. Accusing me of all sorts of things. Murders, robberies. It ain’t right. Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Cain said. “That all sounds good to John Q. Public. But, the truth is that folks like us, cops, too, don’t really think that way. We usually start with guilty and look for evidence to prove us wrong. Seems to work better that way.”
Jason shook his head. “Why do I get to be the focus of your delusion?”
“Let’s see. You show up at the crime scene. Unsolicited. You and Tommy deal drugs.” Jason started to say something but Cain stopped him with a raised hand. “The Finley killings smell like a drug hit. Over at Shaffer’s some pretty potent narcotics were part of the haul. Add to that the fact that you don’t seem overly torn up over a multiple murder where your supposed friend and his family were massacred.” He shrugged, opening his palms toward Jason. “Sort of makes me wonder why all this looks like it could revolve around you.”
“I didn’t have nothing to do
