The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 6-10 - Catherine Coulter [656]
The boys didn’t give them a backward glance. Detective Morales, dark-haired and dark-eyed, already sporting a five o’clock shadow, laughed as he led them to a small conference room down the hall. “I’ve got three teenagers of my own. They wanted me to put them in a cell overnight. I settled on the lineup thing. They didn’t stop talking about it all day.” He opened the door to the conference room and gestured them in.
“A nice setup you’ve got here,” Dix told him as he accepted a cup of coffee.
“The place is brand-new, up and running in 2002. None of that smell city police stations have, that combination of dampness, cheap room deodorizer, and eau de criminal. Not yet. It’s the best part of having new digs. So you’re an FBI agent,” he said without pause to Ruth. “How’d you and Sheriff Noble hook up? You guys married? Those your boys?”
“No, we’re not married,” Dix said easily. “We just met a week ago when this all started, Detective Morales.”
“Call me Cesar.”
Dix nodded, sat forward, and clasped her hands in front of him. “I’m Dix, and this is Ruth. Ruth is the agent Dempsey and Slater fired on last Saturday night. We met with Ruth’s boss in Washington this morning, and I’m real glad to find you here at work today, to meet you personally.”
Ruth said, “We both know about weekend work, Sheriff. The devil never sleeps.”
Dix said, “Sorry to tie up your staff with the boys, Cesar. It’s been a rough week for them, with people they know dying, our own house getting shot up. I wanted to show them we’re dealing with it, calm them down a little, and I didn’t want to leave them alone.”
“I understand,” Morales said. “Officer Craig can handle the kids, and I’ve got time to fill you in on what we’re doing.”
“You mentioned you’re working on some information from someone called Eddie Skanky?”
Detective Morales nodded. “Yes, I’ve also got two of my detectives working the usual stuff—credit cards, phone calls, bank accounts. They’ve leaned on Dempsey’s girlfriend and their business associates—you want to call them that—but lowlifes like that never have anything to tell you unless they’re up on charges and need some leverage to deal down.
“Eddie Skanky is a local thug who’s been sent up twice by Detective Marilyn Honniger. She got him again on a parole violation and he’s promised to put his nose to the grindstone if she doesn’t toss him back in jail. Seems he knew Slater and Dempsey, both in prison and out. We’re waiting for him to give up a name.”
“A name would be a good start,” Dix said, “but we have to be sure he’s not pulling a name out of the newspaper to stay out of prison.”
“Some of the people who were close to the victims are prominent, respected people,” Ruth explained. “Let’s hope he brings in something solid, or they’ll laugh at us.”
“I understand,” Detective Morales said. “I hear everything, and I know some of those people are relatives of yours, Sheriff. I’m glad I’m not in your shoes on this one.”
Dix sighed deeply, muttered under his breath, and said, meeting Morales’s eyes, “Yes, it could get real messy. I pray no one in the family is involved, mostly for the boys’ sake. I wouldn’t want to have to tell them something like that. But we’ll deal with whatever comes.”
They left a short time later, dragging Rob and Rafe, who didn’t want to detach themselves from Officer Craig. Dix unlocked the Range Rover to a hysterically barking Brewster, and everyone settled in. Ruth waited until the boys were plugged into a computer game before she said quietly, “I like Detective Morales. I’m glad we stopped here to meet him. It makes a difference when you know the other person. He’s a straight-up guy. He’ll come up with a name for us. I just don’t know if it will be in time.” At his raised eyebrow, she said smoothly, “By Tuesday.”
Dix grinned as he checked