Protector - Laurel Dewey [78]
“I didn’t take that thing. Somebody gave it to me—”
“You expect me to believe that someone gave you a silver cigarette case!”
“Yeah, dude. This guy just gave it to me last night. Hey, man, I gotta get outta here. I gotta go to Atlanta. I’m catchin’ the dream weaver train.”
Jane turned to Weyler. “How much more of this do we need to watch?” She walked out of the narrow room and stood nervously in the hallway. Weyler followed and pounded his fist three times on the interrogation room door to alert Chris. Chris emerged, flushed in the face and reeking of body odor.
“What is it?” Chris asked Weyler, almost out of breath.
“Let him go.”
“Boss, the guy’s got a piece of property on him from the scene! We can’t kick him!” Chris stole a glance toward Jane. “Goddamnit, Jane! Don’t fuck this up for me!”
“I’m not fucking it up for you! You’re doing a fine job all by yourself!”
“He’s got crime scene property on him, Jane!” Chris yelled.
“And I’m wearing Eddie Bauer pants! That doesn’t make me his cousin!” Jane replied.
“Alright, you two!” Weyler said loudly. “Chris, let him walk.”
“Yeah,” Jane interjected. “He’s gotta get up early and go to work at NASA!”
“My God!” Weyler said in an angry tone, “you’re like two belligerent children! Chris, I know you want to solve this case. I know you want to make the department look good. But you’re shadowboxing with ghosts in there.”
“Then explain how he got the cigarette case! Maybe this asshole hangs with the guys who did it. There could be a viable link here, boss!”
“He couldn’t find the fucking hole in a donut!” Jane said, under her breath.
“Kick him out of here, Chris,” Weyler said, turning toward his office.
“Boss!” Chris urged. “You’re worried about the possibility of that kid being stalked! Well, who’s to say he’s not the guy that tips off the stalker?”
Jane’s ears perked up. This was the first time she had it confirmed that Emily was in physical danger. She turned to Weyler, “So she is being stalked?”
“There’s a possibility but we can’t confirm it,” Weyler said wearily. “Chris got a call several days ago that alluded to a possible situation.”
“When were you planning on sharing this information with me?” Jane pointedly said to Chris.
“Maybe when you shared what the kid likes to whisper to you!” Chris replied with a mean twist to his voice.
Jane looked at Weyler. “If Emily is in real danger, I need to know about it.”
“It was one call,” Weyler said. “Chris tried to trace it but it was from a phone booth somewhere in . . . where was it?”
“Littleton,” Chris quickly replied.
“More than likely it was some freak,” Weyler assured Jane.
“Boss,” Chris said, “I know this guy’s fuckin’ crazy, but we have to turn over every rock just in case it leads to something significant. If we kick him, put a car on him. Find out where he’s going . . . who he’s talking to . . . We’ve gotta figure this out, dammit!”
Weyler rested his hands on his hips and stared ahead deep in thought. “I appreciate your steadfast determination, Chris. But I just don’t feel it’s worthy of pursuit.” Weyler turned and headed into his office.
Chris looked at Jane, burning holes of red hot anger into her. “If something happens to that kid, Jane, and it comes back to this guy, it’s on my head, not yours!”
“He wants a one-way ticket to Atlanta! Or was it Atlantis?”
“So he’s fucked up! That doesn’t mean there isn’t some weird connection!”
“Exactly what connection would that be? Have you thought about what you were going to tell the DA’s office when you presented this character to them? Let’s see, he knows a bum who knows another bum who knows a guy who works at Starbucks who found the cigarette case in a dumpster behind Safeway. The one bum stole it from the guy at Starbucks, then that bum traded it to the other bum who then gave it to the guy sitting in there who’s catching the dream weaver train to Atlanta!”
“We have to solve this crime.” Chris’ voice was tired and hoarse. “You just don’t get it. I’m going to lose every goddamn thing if I can’t put this case to bed. I’m working my ass off