“Yeah, he’s halfway through breakfast. He wants to know when you’re releasing him.”
Gray removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair, then set the hat down.
“Like I told you, I can’t hold him without evidence.”
“The scratches on his arms match Cecilia Bond’s.”
“What did Virgil say?”
“For one, she was dying from kidney disease. Cecilia Bond died before she hit the water. It wasn’t a drowning. She also broke a nail. Virgil sent the scrapings to the lab for DNA analysis.”
“Are Garrick Tillery’s cuts deep enough to suggest Cecilia took a chunk of his skin?”
“Possibly. We’ll find out when the results come back. But by then, Garrick will be a free man.”
Maggie’s voice carried from the greeting area. Duncan Bond had arrived. Gray glanced at Thomas.
“Ready?”
“Let’s see what Duncan Bond has to say.”
The interview room felt like a sweat tent under a Death Valley sun. Thomas smiled inside. Gray had turned up the heat, an old trick to make suspects uncomfortable. The problem was, Thomas would sweat bullets if the interview ran long.
Duncan Bond sat across from Sheriff Gray and Thomas, the man’s forearms flat on the table. The thinning hair atop his head, somewhere between sandy-brown and gray, left plenty of real estate uncovered. He wore oval, oversize glasses that amplified his eyeballs, and the drawn face and dark splotches beneath his eyes suggested Duncan Bond hadn’t slept since they found his wife floating in the river. A bandage covered Duncan’s cheek.
“What happened to your face?” Gray asked.
Duncan lowered his head and rubbed his temple.
“I cut myself shaving this morning.”
Before Duncan raised his eyes, Gray gave Thomas a pointed look.
“First off, we’re very sorry for your loss, Mr. Bond. Cecilia was a kind woman, a staple of the Wolf Lake community.”
“Did you know my wife, Sheriff?”
“In passing. But everyone spoke highly of her. She’ll be missed.”
A hurt sound came from the man’s throat.
“Why am I here?”
Thomas tapped a pen against his notepad and said, “Cecilia was dying.”
“Yes. She had kidney disease, and we hadn’t found a donor. There was still time, though.”
“So she was in the National Kidney Registry.”
“For over a year. Every day, I prayed for a match. This will sound crazy unless you have faith. But I believe we were close to having our prayers answered. Cecilia wouldn’t do her part. She took stupid risks when she should have prayed alongside me and made sure God heard us.”
“What sorts of risks?”
Duncan fell back in his chair, defeated.
“She wouldn’t listen to anyone. Not to her doctor, not to me. Cecilia insisted on going for walks alone.”
“You didn’t walk with her?”
“What difference would it make? I did everything I could to make her healthy—I prayed all day and night.”
“So you allowed your wife, who was suffering from advanced kidney disease, to hike along the river by herself?”
A flash of anger moved through Duncan’s eyes.
“I never allowed it. Cecilia set her own rules, and she was too stubborn. Nobody talked sense into her.”
Gray cleared his throat.
“Mr. Bond, where were you between the hours of six and eight o’clock Tuesday evening?”
Duncan gave the sheriff a blank, glassy-eyed stare that reminded Thomas of Garrick Tillery waking up.
“Tuesday evening?”
“While your wife went to the park.”
“Oh.” He lowered his face into his hands and breathed between his fingers. “At the church, praying for my wife.”
“Which church?”
“St. Mary’s.”
“Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts?” Thomas asked.
Duncan gave the question extended consideration.
“I was there alone. Anyone is free to pray inside the church before nine. That’s when they lock the doors.”
“So nobody saw you there.”
Duncan wiped the sweat off his forehead.
“It’s hot in here.”
“Our apologies,” Gray said. “We’re having difficulty with the heating and cooling system. The county budget isn’t what it used to be. Can I get you anything to drink? Soda, water?”
“Um, sure. Water would be fine.”
Gray nodded to Thomas, who rose from his seat and retrieved a bottled water and glass from the kitchen. The temperature outside the interview room felt wintry as Thomas’s body adjusted. He knew what Gray was up to. Duncan would leave DNA on the glass.
Inside the interview room, Thomas poured the water into the glass and slid it across the table to Duncan.
“Thank you,” Duncan said, raising the glass in a half-hearted salute.
Gray eyed the lip marks after Duncan set the glass down.
“Better?”
“Yes.” Duncan swiped his sleeve across his forehead. “Now that you asked, someone saw me inside the church Tuesday evening.”
Gray leaned forward.
“Who?”
“Father Josiah Fowler.”
The sheriff pressed his lips together.
“So if we call Father Fowler,” said Thomas, scribbling a note. “He’ll remember you.”
“He should, yes. Father Fowler said hello on his way into the church. I was leaving.”
“So he wasn’t there when you arrived.” That weakened Duncan’s alibi, if nobody knew how long he’d spent inside the church. What if he murdered his wife, then drove to the church to pray for forgiveness? “Any idea where Father Fowler had been?”
“No, but he was in a rush. He barely said a word to me, and that’s unlike Father. Boy, it’s hot in here. You need to get the cooling fixed.”
Duncan guzzled the last of the water.
“Let me get that out of your way,” Gray said, plucking the glass by the bottom and setting it beside him.
“Mr. Bond,” Thomas said, holding the suspect’s eyes. “Earlier, you told us you were frustrated with Cecilia. Did you fight often?”
“We argued, if that’s what you mean.”
“Did the fights turn physical?”
“I’d never harm my wife, and I don’t appreciate the implication.”
“We found bruises on Cecilia’s body.”
“She was always falling. It was the kidney disease and her medication. Cecilia never should have left the house.”
“Yet you allowed her to drive a car to the park and walk along the river without supervision.”
“I couldn’t talk her out of it. Once she makes her mind up, there’s no changing it.”
The questioning continued for another ten minutes. By then, even Gray couldn’t take the heat any longer.
“We’ll contact you if we have more questions,” Gray said, holding the door open for Duncan.
After the man
