The big man grunted.
'Sounds like it might be the same crew as broke into my place,' Bruce said. 'You sure the Mexican isn't workin' with 'em?'
'I'll tell you what I'm sure of. I'm sure your brothers went to St. Alban's in May looking for Amado Esfuentes. I'm sure they would've beat the crap out of him if they could have. And I'm sure interested in taking a look around here to see if maybe you all brought him home tonight for a little talking-to.'
Bruce Christie kept on smiling. 'You got a warrant, Chief?'
Without taking his eyes off Bruce, the chief pulled his phone from his pocket. He tossed it to Kevin, who tried to look matter-of-fact about catching it. 'Officer Flynn,' the chief said, 'Assistant District Attorney Amy Nguyen is number eight on my speed dial. I want you to ask her to take the Christies' case file to Judge Ryswick with a search warrant request.' His voice took on a confidential tone, clearly directed at Bruce. 'Your brothers' case was filed, not dismissed. Which means it can be reopened at any time.' He glanced at his watch. 'I expect we'll be here about two hours, waiting for the warrant to arrive.' He looked back up to the porch, where Bruce Christie's pleasant veneer was cracking. 'I figure by then, in order to justify our overtime, we'll have to go over your place with a fine-tooth comb.' He glanced at Kevin. 'Officer Flynn, where's the nearest K-Nine unit?'
Kevin stepped up to the plate. 'The Capital Area Drug Enforcement Association has a trained narcotics-sniffing dog available in Kingston, Chief. His handler could be here in under an hour.' He held up the phone. 'You want me to call him?'
'I don't know, Officer Flynn.' The chief looked at the Christies. 'What do you think, Bruce?'
'The Mexican's not here. He got the message to stay away from our sister. We don't have no other business with him.'
'Izzy ain't seeing him no more,' Neil said. 'He didn't understand when she told him to clear off, 'cause he don't speak no English.'
Kevin thought Neil wasn't doing so hot in that department himself.
The chief spread his hands. 'All we're looking for is Amado. I'm not interested in anything else. Yet.'
The Christies looked at one another. Donald spoke up. 'I don't want you scaring nobody. We got kids here, some a my fiancee's and some a mine while their mom is outta town.'
'I suspect the best way not to scare them is if we all cooperate.'
The Christies looked at one another again. Bruce nodded to his brothers. Turned toward the chief. 'All right,' he said.
The chief motioned toward the barn. 'Two of my men will search the barn. It'd go faster and easier if one of you went with them.'
Bruce Christie cut a sharp glance at his brothers. 'I'll go.' He clattered down the stairs and headed for the three-story structure. Kevin tagged the barn as the most likely spot for whatever illegal substances the Christies were hiding.
The chief reached inside the cruiser and snatched the mic. 'Lyle?' he said.
The speaker cracked on. 'Here.'
'Bruce Christie is headed your way to show you around his barn. Make sure you get a look at any outbuildings as well.'
'Roger that.'
The chief rehitched the mic and held out a hand toward Kevin. It took him a beat, but he figured out what the chief wanted. He dropped the phone in his hand and bent close enough not to be overheard by the two remaining Christies. 'Won't Bruce just get in their way? Try to keep them from seeing what he doesn't want them to see?'
'I want to split them up,' the chief said, in the same low tone. 'If we stumble onto something, we'll only have one to deal with.' He stepped toward the porch stairs and raised his voice. 'Do you have a kennel or a run for the dogs?'
'Ayeah,' Donald said.
'Good. I'd like one of you to put them away. None of us wants an unfortunate accident because a dog got overexcited.'
'I'll do it,' Neil said to his brother. 'You better stay with Kathy so's she don't freak out.'
The chief waited next to Donald while Neil went inside. He returned in a moment, leading four German shepherds straining at their leashes. The shepherds looked like they'd been crossbred with ponies. Mean-tempered ponies. Kevin's exhilaration at escaping the dogs at the gate turned to a queasy awareness of what they could have done if they had caught him.
'Officer Flynn?' The chief's voice snapped him out of it. He thudded up the stairs and followed Donald Christie and the chief into the house.
They were in what must have once been a fine front hall: plaster moldings and mahogany woodwork and an elegant twelve-over-twelve window. Now it was dusty and bare, except for a coatrack and a pile of boots. Broad carpeted stairs curved to the second floor. A door ahead of them listed open to what looked like a dining room. Through the closed double door to the left he could hear the sounds of an overloud television and the babble of high-pitched conversation. Donald Christie thumbed in that direction. 'Kathy and mosta the kids are watching a movie. I better go tell her what's goin' on. She gets some touchy at times.'
'Why don't I come with you,' the chief said, smooth and easy, like he was Donald Christie's best bud. 'I know how women can get.' He tapped Kevin and, without looking, pointed at the open door.
Kevin got moving. The next room was indeed a dining room-dark, depressing, anchored with a table large enough to perform surgery. He heard a woman's voice say, 'What?' and turned back toward the front hall. There was another closed door behind him. He could hear Christie, sounding apologetic, and the low rumble of the chief's voice.
He reversed himself slowly, looking for anything that might be a lead. On the other wall, a coffin-sized sideboard surmounted by a depressing painting of dead animals separated two more doorways. One appeared to contain a closet-sized hall. The other opened onto linoleum. He picked the lino.
The kitchen was a mix of old wooden cabinets, knocked-together shelving, and 1970s appliances. There were two more doors, one ahead of him and one to the left. He shook his head. Old houses. Three doors to every room but no closets. He crossed the kitchen to the far door, wedged between shelving and a skinny laminate cupboard. It led to a narrow roofed porch; washer and dryer on one end, clothesline looping off a wheel into the darkness in front of him. He frowned at the steps leading down to the backyard. He backed into the kitchen and headed for the other door, between the sink and a harvest-gold chest freezer. From the other side of the house, he could hear a woman complaining at top volume. Must be Kathy, getting touchy. Kevin was grinning to himself as he opened the next door.
A woman looked up from where she was reading on a fluffed-up marshmallow of a bed.
'Oh! Geez.' Kevin could feel the blush starting. 'I'm sorry! I didn't know anyone was in here. I would've knocked.'
The woman shut a skinny paperback and slid off the bed. 'It's okay,' she said. 'I heard the first part of tonight's show. You guys didn't kill the dogs, did you?'
'No!'
'Too bad.' She didn't sound sarcastic, just sad.
'I, um…' He glanced around the room. It was decked out like a French boudoir for a six- year-old, although the woman standing in front of him had to be his age or a few years older. Blond, brown-eyed, built like a former Dairy Princess. 'Are you the sister?'
'That's me,' she said. If Bruce Christie got the brains in the family, this one got the looks.
'I have to, um… do you mind if I look around?'
