Crush - Alan Jacobson [80]
“Mind if I do this with Roxxann?” Vail asked. “One of the things we do in the profiling unit is teach interview techniques.”
Brix’s jaw moved from side to side. He was considering the request. “Roxx, you’re lead investigator. Your call.”
Dixon pulled her attention from the television monitor. “We work well together.”
“What’s your plan?” Brix asked.
Vail tilted her head. “We’ll need a printout of Fuller’s mobile calls.”
Brix reached over to the table and grabbed a manila folder. “It’s all in here.”
Vail snuck a look inside, then nodded. “Good. You got Silva’s cell?”
Brix dug it out of his pocket. Vail slipped it into hers.
“I think we should keep it cordial for as long as possible,” Vail said.
“Brix, when you see me pull out my BlackBerry, give me a minute, then come in and whisper in my ear. Nothing funny or cute.”
A smile thinned Brix’s lips, then he nodded knowingly. “I like that.”
“I thought you might.” Vail glanced over at Silva, then turned to Dixon. “Let’s do this.”
Moments later, after a brief strategy session in the hall, Vail and Dixon entered Interview Room 2, a small, six-by-eight room containing a square table topped with the same taupe and gray faux marble found in the conference room. Two black chairs. And that was it.
The size of the room injected Vail with an instant dose of claustrophobia. Her eyes did a quick once-over of the space, her mind measuring it and adding it up and knowing it was small, but willing her brain to think it was plenty big, with enough air. She stood beside the door, ready to make a quick exit if the need arose. I can do this. No big deal.
As Vail struggled with her unfounded anxieties, she looked over at Walton Silva, who was occupying one of the two seats in the room. Silva wore well-tailored sweats that probably never saw the inside of a gym.
Dixon introduced herself, then nodded at Vail and said simply, “This is my partner. Can we get you anything to drink?”
“Any reason this had to be done now?” Silva made no attempt to stop his yawn. “It’s not even light out yet.”
Dixon sat down opposite Silva. “The sheriff is really upset about his stepson. He’s busting our butts. He’s called everyone in. We don’t want to let him down. And we’re hoping you can help us.”
Silva yawned again. “I’ll help you anyway I can. But what can I do?”
“We need to know about Scott. We knew him around the station, but friends always know us better than our coworkers.”
Silva shrugged.
“You’re with Rutledge Warren Stone, right?”
“I started there about a year ago.”
“How’d you do when the market tanked?”
“Like everyone else who had money in the market, I guess. I may be an investment banker, but I didn’t have a crystal ball. I took a bath.” His gaze drifted to Vail, who was standing still and quiet, across the room and to Dixon’s right, Vail’s shoulder beside the door. Back to Dixon: “But what’s that got to do with Scott?”
“How close were the two of you?”
Silva lifted a shoulder. “We went to school together, hung out, that sort of thing. We kind of lost touch when I left for college. But as soon as I moved back to town, we started talking again.”
“Scott was a good guy, wasn’t he?”
Silva sucked his left cheek, paused a moment, then said, “Yeah.”
“Did you two see a lot of one another?”
“About once or twice a month. We’d grab a beer when he got off shift. But we weren’t as close as we were before I left.”
“So you weren’t that close.”
“Nah, not like we were.”
“Let me show you something, Walton. It’s something Lieutenant Brix gave me a few minutes ago, and it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. Maybe you can help me understand it.”
“Sure.”
Dixon splayed open the manila folder Brix had given them, then turned it so Silva could see it. “These are phone logs for Scott’s cell phone. Can you tell me if you recognize any numbers on it?”
Silva pulled the sheets closer and looked them over. His eyes seemed to hover a bit, then he moved on down the long list. “No, nothing that looks familiar.”
Vail was moving now, catching Dixon’s attention. Dixon glanced over her right