Never Cry Mercy (14 page)

Questions raced through my mind. I knew why they were there. Obviously they were there to arrest me for the murder.
But which me?
Jack Smith? Or had Darrow revealed my identity to Vernon?

The passenger door of the nearest cruiser swung open. A young woman I hadn't seen before took three quick steps back, pistol drawn and aimed center mass.

"Come on, Jack. Let's do this the easy way, OK?" Vernon said.

I placed my hands flat on the dash, but didn't move otherwise. My instincts said escape. But I had nowhere to go. No way out. I had one friend left in the town, and she wasn't there. Had they arrested Reese, too? Was she sitting in the back of one of their patrol cars? It wouldn't surprise me considering our story was that she had found the bodies with me. At the very least, they could charge her with being an accomplice.

Miles moved toward the door, tucking away his pistol. The female officer I'd spotted moments earlier backed him up. Two other officers stepped up past her. Miles pulled my door open, backed out of the way. The other two officers rushed the truck. I didn't react. One of the cops grabbed my right arm, forced it behind my back. The other waited while the first yanked me halfway out of the truck. Then they both jumped on me. We hit the ground with over six-hundred pounds of force. Two-thirds of it landed on top of me. They cuffed me, yanked me back up, slammed me into the side of a cruiser.

Vernon walked over, said, "Jack Smith, you are under arrest for the murders of Ingrid Goetz and Herbie Goetz." He proceeded to read me my rights.

I said nothing during or after.

We caravanned to the station. Blue lights bounced off every building. The car pulled up to the back where officers were waiting with the door open. We entered there, then went through the door in the cinder block wall. Stale coffee aroma filled the room. A half-filled mug sat on the desk in between two stacks of papers. I thought about making a smart ass remark, but decided against it. There was no hesitation on their part. Two officers stood on either side of me. Another opened the cell. They all took part in forcing me inside.

The room emptied. Only Vernon remained. He eyed me for a minute or so before cutting off half the overhead lights and leaving. The room sunk into a shade of piss-yellow. The echoes of footsteps faded, leaving only my breathing and the rattling of the desk fan as the only sounds in the room.

I reflected on what had happened that morning. How I had ended up here. I wondered why I wasn't dead. What kind of deal had they worked out? I thought about Vernon's long stare before he left the room. Was this his doing? Or had he been ordered?

Darrow didn't want me going anywhere, so he had Vernon arrest me. The two men were working together. Plain and simple. Perhaps it was a common occurrence. Or a permanent one. Either way, one or both of them knew the identity of the murderer. They had to. Why else arrest me with nothing more than circumstantial evidence? They did it because they knew how it all went down.

They knew the identity of the killer. The how and why. They knew every damn detail and could use that knowledge to successfully pin the murders on me.

Did Darrow think this was the way to get me to talk? And if I did, would they release me, or keep going with the phony charges? I knew a trial here would be a farce. Christ, if there was ever a time I needed to reach out to Frank, this might be it. The saliva in my mouth turned sour at the thought. And after our last encounter, I didn't know that he'd even answer my call for help.

Thinking it through, I knew jail would never be the option. Darrow knew who I was. He'd revealed enough for me to warrant calling in someone to investigate him. I surmised that the only reason I was still alive was that he was waiting on more details regarding my current situation. I had no doubt he planned on killing me. When, though? After a trial? Would he risk keeping me locked up that long? I figured he had the resources to keep watch over me as long as I was confined.

I lay back on the cot, ready to forget about it all. I needed to recover from the day's events. My arms, legs, side all hurt. At least the fog in my head had cleared. Who knows what I might have said had it not. The only positive I could take out of my current conditions was that the other cell was empty. They hadn't gone after Reese. Yet, at least. They would have arrested her first. Brought her along as a way to coerce me into going in easy.

Did she know about this? Had Vernon given her any advanced warning? Or was she sitting at home, pissed off that I hadn't come back yet? They'd taken my cell phone in the parking lot, and hadn't offered me a call before locking me up. I doubted I'd get one any time soon, either. Vernon seemed content to let me sit. Perhaps that's what he'd been told to do.

I let all thoughts go for a few minutes and stared up at a massive water stain on the ceiling. Almost half of it was yellow from smoke and water. The paint on the walls peeled back in spots. The drywall cracked in others. The longer I lay there, the more the smell of mold overpowered stale coffee. It wouldn't be my home forever. Eventually they'd take me off to a real prison.

Neither option appealed to me.

I wondered what it would take to appease Darrow. Would making up a fake involvement with Frank Skinner work? If I said Frank sent me down to investigate what was going on here, would that be enough for Darrow? Or would he want more? Specifics, I suppose. And I had none. No one would tell me a damn thing about the guy. For all I know, he could be manufacturing meth and became overzealous anytime someone new came along.

Whatever he was into, it was obvious he had a hold on the town. Even Vernon was in his back pocket. I wondered when he'd set it up to have the old couple murdered. Question was, had it been because of me? Or had they opened their mouths, perhaps to Vernon, about the things Darrow was up to? After listening to the way Vernon spoke of Ingrid, I had no doubt the woman trusted him. If she or her husband had come across something, anything, and brought it to Vernon, he could have turned right around and told Darrow.

I sat up and leaned against the cool concrete wall. It was all speculation. I needed to talk to Reese, find out the truth about Darrow. And I needed some time in the interrogation room with Vernon. Turn the tables on him a bit.

I'd get my chance with one of them soon enough.

Chapter 33

"Jack? You still with me?"

The voice lifted me out of my slumber. I turned my head, blinked a couple times, saw Reese six feet away, leaning into the iron bars. Her slender arms slipped through the gaps, and she clasped her hands together.

"What the hell is going on?" she said. "I wake up, you're gone, and I hear from you once. Then you disappear. Now you're in jail?"

"I guess they couldn't figure anything out," I said, leaving out a ton of detail. "So they're pinning the murder on me."

"We were together. We told Vernon we were together. If you're in here, I should be, too."

I jutted my chin toward the ceiling, shook my head at her. They monitored the room by video, and likely audio. There's no way Vernon would allow Reese to enter the room alone to talk to me if they didn't have a way of listening in. I pulled myself out of bed, shuffled across the concrete floor and leaned into the bars so we were cheek-to-cheek.

"I just don't understand why they'd arrest you and not even bring me down for more questioning."

"Yeah, I don't know either. Sorry about leaving you in the morning, too. I had to—"

"It's OK." She wrapped her hand around mine. "I know you, Jack. I know how your mind works. You had unanswered questions that you needed to resolve. Lying there waiting for me to wake up wasn't getting you anywhere. I really wasn't offended."

"All right. I'll leave it at that, then."

"Tell me what happened."

I detailed what happened after leaving her apartment, up to the point where they rushed me on the sidewalk.

"I don't think I can go into detail on the rest in here," I said. "Obviously my journey ended when they arrested me."

"Just tell me," she said.

I gestured toward the cameras again. "At some point, I'm going to have a lawyer, and we'll be able to meet someplace that allows some confidentiality. Once we're there, I'll fill you in on what happened. There's a few things I'm going to need for you to do for me at that point."

"Like what?"

I paused. What I was about to ask her would require her to divulge her identity. Not long after, the FBI would get involved and move her again.

"There's a few people you'll need to reach out to."

She nodded. "Sure, anything."

I took her hands in mine. "Reese, doing so is going to blow your cover."

Her expression remained the same. She already knew, and was willing to assume that risk.

"I need you to level with me on something," I said.

"Sure," she said. "What?"

"Darrow."

She looked up at the stained ceiling. "Not much I can really say about that."

"Part of what I haven't told you has to do with him. Reese, look, I know he knows who you are."

She started to respond, stopped with her mouth stuck open a half-inch. Her grip tightened against mine. "That isn't something we can talk about in here. When do you think you'll have that lawyer?"

I shrugged. "No one's said anything to me. I'm sure there's some time requirement, though."

"What about an arraignment?"

"They do those here?"

"I don't think they've ever had to deal with a case like this. People aren't murdered here. They just straight up disappear if they cross the wrong person."

I lowered my chin to my chest. "Darrow."

She offered a terse nod.

"You should go," I said. "It's not safe for you here."

"Here in the police station?" she said. "Or this town?"

"Both."

"Why?"

I wanted to expand on my conversation with Darrow. Tell her about how he knew our history, and it wouldn't be long before he notified one of his contacts. Christ, I hadn't considered that he might have done it already. It wasn't necessarily the government she had to be concerned about. It was the terrorists her ex-husband had been involved with. And her part in bringing him down. If her identity were revealed, they'd have an assassin here in no time.

"Get ahold of your contact," I said. "Do whatever you have to in order to convince them to move you ASAP. Christ, you've been compromised. You should have done this a long time ago."

Her eyes glossed over. "It's not that easy sometimes. And I was told as long as I kept out of the way, he'd never divulge my secret."

The door banged open. Vernon stepped into the room. "Time's up, Billie. You can visit him again tomorrow."

She pulled away from the cell, taking my hands with her until they could stretch no further.

"I'll dig around, Jack. You'll be out of here in no time."

Perhaps I would. I didn't count on it.

Vernon left the door open behind him as he escorted Reese to the rear exit. They stopped and spoke for a minute in a tone too low for me to understand what was being said. The door cracked open and I saw a sliver of her pass through. A breeze whipped through the room. Smelled like a bacon cheeseburger. When Vernon returned, I asked if he could run over to the grill and grab me one.

"You got some gumption, man," he said. He stood about six feet from the cell, arms crossed, staring at me. "You two get anything worked out?"

"Not sure what you mean," I said.

He glanced over his shoulder at the camera on the wall. It remained steady. I don't think I'd seen it move a single time. Vernon came over to the cell, gestured me forward. I was leery of accepting his invitation, but met him at the bars anyway.

"I know you didn't do it," he whispered.

"Then what am I doing in here?"

He shook his head. "Can't help there, man. Just sit tight a day or two, and maybe it'll get sorted out."

"Maybe? You want me to sit on my hands for a couple days over a maybe?"

"Gotta trust me on this one, Jack."

I glanced around, leaned in closer. "Are you closing the investigation? Or are you still looking into it, asking around? Someone murdered those folks, and it wasn't me. You got a problem, man. There's a killer on the loose still."

He nodded. To what, I wasn't sure. Did he agree with me? Was he appeasing me?

"It's ongoing," he said. "Low-key is all. I mean, half the people in this town don't work, and most of them sit at home. I'm sure someone saw something. But so far, nobody's come forward."

I said nothing. I couldn't help from a jail cell. If he wanted input, he'd have to release me.

"All right," he said after a few moments of silence between us. "You just sit tight, like I said, and we'll get this figured out." He stopped by the door, looked back. "Coffee?"

"Not right now. How about a lawyer instead?"

He drew his lips tight, nodded once, then exited the room.

Chapter 34

I fell back into the cot, not caring the least bit that it was as comfortable as lying on a rock. Exhaustion from the events of the past couple days had caught up with me. Within a few minutes, I dozed off. I wasn't sure what time I fell asleep. But the sun was out when I woke up again.

I fought through the pain of bruised muscles and stood up. Taking a deep breath felt like inhaling nails. Sons of bitches might've managed to crack a rib or two. I pulled off my shirt and checked out the paint by number they'd done on my torso. The primary colors used were black and blue.

Someone had slipped a tray of food into the cell. It consisted of a bowl of what might pass as oatmeal, some raisins that probably were large bugs, a juice box, and a mug of coffee. I grabbed the mug and pushed the tray out of the cell. I knew the coffee was cold, but took a large swig anyway. About as disgusting as java could taste. And I drank it all. Caffeine was a necessity.

All I could do from that point was play the waiting game. I lay back down on the cot, staring at the fluorescent-washed ceiling.

A few hours passed before the door opened again. My hopes of it being Reese or an attorney were quickly dashed. The fact that it was lunch didn't make matters better. I ate a white bread ham sandwich with no condiments. Couldn't even leave a dab of mayo or mustard on the side for me. It was like eating over-salted cardboard. At least I got a fresh cup of coffee out of it. Too bad it wasn't much better than the cold brew. I tried to lodge a complaint, but the officer left the room before I put the mug down.