Flash and Bones - Kathy Reichs [74]
“Not the outcome we were looking for.” Slidell’s voice was a bit husky.
I said nothing.
Slidell reached behind his back and yanked a hankie from his pocket. His palm left a small saddle of perspiration on the vinyl armrest.
“You find anything down there with them?” he asked.
“Her earrings. Zippers. Some moldy shreds of clothing.”
“Shoes?”
“No.”
Slidell shook his head.
“You think they were killed here?” I asked.
“Hard to say. They could have been forced to take off their shoes. Or their bodies could have been transported from somewhere else.”
“They pick up anything with the metal detector?”
“Nothing useful.” He knew I was asking about bullets or casings.
Behind Slidell, I could see two attendants carrying a stretcher. Together, they transferred both body bags to the morgue gurney and buckled the black straps.
When I looked back, Slidell was studying my face.
“Can I get you something? More water?”
“I’m good.” I swallowed. “Did Winge do it?”
“Dumb-ass keeps mumbling he’s sorry. Over and over. Sounds like a confession to me.”
“Why?”
“I’ve never been able to understand how these mutants think. But trust me. We’ll get everything he knows out of him.”
The heat in the car was like hot syrup against my skin. I got out and lifted my hair to feel the breeze on my neck. There was none.
I watched the morgue attendants slam and secure the van doors.
And felt a sob build in my chest. Fought it back.
I spotted Williams walking toward us. He says one thing to me and I’ll rip his goddamn lips off, I promised myself. I meant it.
Williams spoke to Slidell. “We about done here?”
“Yeah.”
“Where’s Winge?”
“Being booked.”
For a few moments the three of us stood in self-conscious silence. Sensing strong emotion, the men didn’t know how to act, what to say. I didn’t feel like helping them out.
Avoiding my eyes, Slidell addressed Williams. “Meet me downtown. We’ll grill this cocksucker.”
On the drive home, my eyes burned and my chest heaved intermittently.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry.
Somehow, I didn’t.
A bubble bath and a change of clothes did wonders for my body.
My spirits remained in the cellar.
Slidell’s visit did nothing to lift them. Maybe it was his BO. More likely his report on Grady Winge.
“The prick’s stonewalling.”
“What do you mean?”
“He won’t talk. Keeps his eyes closed and his lips moving, like he’s praying.”
“What did he say about the graves?”
“You listening to me?”
“You must have other interrogation techniques.”
“Right. The rubber hoses slipped my mind.”
“What about a psychologist?”
“We reminded Mr. Winge of the popularity of capital punishment in this state. Now we’re letting him ponder that.”
An image of the two skeletons fountained up in my mind. I felt anger and sadness. Pushed them away.
“Now what?”
I asked. “I’m going to squeeze Lynn Nolan a little harder. This time pop her at home.”
“Why?”
“I want to know more about the guy Lovette was talking to at the Double Shot.”
“You think Nolan was holding back?”
“Let’s just say I want another run at her.”
“Did Williams tell you the FBI confiscated the Gamble-Lovette case file?”
“No.”
“He virtually admitted it.”
“Yeah?”
I described my aha! moment regarding the statements Winge gave in ’ninety-eight and on the previous Monday.
“Randall made a call, confirmed that Winge’s wording was identical. He must have had someone check the original file.”
“Those arrogant pricks.” Slidell’s jaw muscles bulged, relaxed. “Don’t matter. That sonofabitch is guilty and he’s going down. The question is, who else?”
“Where does Nolan live?” I asked.
“The old hometown. Kannapolis.”
It was obvious Slidell hadn’t been home. His BO was strong enough to put down a horse. The prospect of a car ride together was not appealing.
“You’re going now?”
“I thought I’d have a couple beers first, maybe catch a movie.”
The clock said 9:20.
I desperately craved sleep.
“Hold on.” I hurried to the study and grabbed my purse.
I’d overestimated the drive time. But underestimated