Crush - Alan Jacobson [157]
Normally, the arresting officers discharged their duties and returned to patrol once their prisoner was brought into the jail and turned over to prison personnel for processing. But in this case, the task force members were not about to let anyone handle John Mayfield. He was their collar, and they intended to see this through to the end.
Austin Mann stepped over to Dixon and Vail, then nodded at Mayfield, who stood off to the side in prison blues, getting his fingerprints digitally scanned. “Property and medical intake’s been done. And the nurse already came down to clear him.”
Vail folded her arms across her chest. “He just came from the hospital. The docs released him. What’d they need the nurse for?”
“Liability,” Brix said, joining the huddle. “CYA, that’s all. But because of his injuries, they’re gonna house him separately, outside the general pop. In case someone were to attack him, he couldn’t defend himself.”
“That’d be a damn shame,” Vail said.
“Wouldn’t it,” Mann said with a chuckle. He glanced over at Mayfield, who obviously heard his comment, then turned his body slightly, away from the arrestee. In a lower voice, Mann said, “Watch Commander’s cleared us to interview him in the Blue Room.”
“Yeah,” Brix said. “About that.” He touched Vail on the elbow. “Can I have a word with you?”
As he moved her aside, out of earshot of the others, Mayfield was escorted down the hall and through Door 154, which separated the booking area from the prison.
“When I saw him, I felt like I’d seen the guy before, but I couldn’t place where. Then it all made sense. Asshole is a pest control and mosquito abatement technician. He used to spray around the department when we’d get ants in the winter, after the rains. I think I even spoke to him once or twice.”
“Here’s one better. Yesterday, Roxxann and I worked out with the guy.” Vail didn’t say anything about Dixon’s considering a date with the man. “I saw the guy, Brix. I looked the monster in his eyes and I didn’t know. I’m supposed to be able to recognize evil. If I’d only—”
He held up a hand. “Don’t. We’re not perfect, Karen. We’re just cops. We do the best we can with what we’ve got. Yeah?”
She sighed deeply. “Yeah.”
Brix leaned in close. “Listen . . . the sheriff wants you to take the lead on Mayfield’s interview.”
“The sheriff?” After what had happened with Fuller, Vail figured she’d be the last one on his list to reward with the prized interview. The detective who nailed the killer was the one who usually did the interview. In this case, Vail figured that’d be Dixon.
“The sheriff. He says you’re the best man for the job. No offense.”
Vail tried to smile. “No offense taken.”
“Last thing. Are you okay with being alone in the room with him?”
Vail sucked on her bottom lip, glanced over at her fellow task force members. They were all looking at her, including Dixon. “No big deal. Let’s do it.”
SIXTY-THREE
The task force members settled into the video monitoring room down the hall from the Blue Room. It contained a faux wood media cabinet outfitted with a Sony television, videotape recording facilities, and several chairs.
“You’ll need this,” Brix said, handing her a file. “Oh—the prick insists his real name’s John Wayne Mayfield. We did a quick records search. Looks like he added the middle name himself.”
Vail snorted. “Yeah, that definitely fits.”
“Karen,” Brix said. “Good luck.”
The rest of the task force members nodded their agreement. Dixon dipped her chin.
Vail closed the door and walked across the hall into the Blue Room, where John Mayfield sat behind a round table. She carried the manila folder against her chest; she entered and set the file down on the table and looked at the arrestee.
Mayfield’s left arm was casted from the thumb to a point above the elbow. An equally large plaster cocoon immobilized his left leg. As a result, only his right arm was handcuffed to the belly chain that was wrapped around his waist. The other cuff, which normally would’ve been on his left wrist, was