‘Contacts.’
‘Contacts. Is that so?’ Cade wagged a finger at Parker. ‘You know, I don’t believe a word that’s coming out of your mouth. Cargill PD will run you through the system. If they come up with wants, you’ll be sorry you found your way to my county.’
My county. Knight stifled a sigh. The arrogance of the man.
Wants were outstanding warrants, or pickup orders from a judge. Knight noticed that Parker didn’t ask for a clarification of the term. Neither did he respond to Cade’s goading. He rubbed his mouth again, climbed back onto his bunk, and closed his eyes. Cade appeared to be on the verge of saying more to Parker, before deciding that it would probably be a waste of both their time.
Cade and Knight headed for the door, the latter dimming the lights upon leaving as a courtesy to the prisoner. No point in torturing the man with bright bulbs if he wanted to rest.
‘Sometimes I think we ought to put a sentry box on the roads in and out of this county,’ Cade remarked.
‘To stop people from leaving?’ said Knight.
‘You hate it so much here, you could always go be a pain in the ass someplace else.’
‘You might think so, but nobody’s recruiting pains in the ass.’
‘My conclusion is that there’s always a surplus.’
‘That would also be my reasoning, based on the available evidence.’
Cade cracked the knuckles in his hands, as though girding himself for bloodshed.
‘You’re testing my self-restraint, Kel.’
‘I’m sure trying, Jurel.’
Cade requested a look at Parker’s ID, and Knight watched him write down the details in a notebook. Had it been a different hour, Cade might have taken it upon himself to delve deeper into the reasons for Parker’s presence in Cargill. Had he done so, it wouldn’t have taken him long to establish that Parker had been asking questions about Patricia Hartley. Cade might yet discover this, which could cause problems for Knight and Griffin down the line, although both would stand by the story about Parker being drunk and mouthing off, because at least fifty percent of it was true and the rest couldn’t be disproved, which made it true by default.
Cade looked back in the direction of the cells. ‘That man didn’t smell much like a drunk to me.’
‘You ought to have been here earlier.’
‘Yeah, I kind of wish I had,’ said Cade. ‘I think I’ll be about my business.’
‘Justice never sleeps,’ said Knight.
Cade paused at the door.
‘I can’t always tell when you’re being sarcastic, Kel,’ he said.
‘My wife says the same thing.’
‘You figure she’d know by now. I guess you’re a conundrum to her.’
‘That must be it.’
‘To her, possibly,’ Cade continued, ‘but not to me. I had you pegged a long time ago.’
‘We understand each other, then.’
‘We probably do, at that. Don’t fuck with me, Kel. You ought to know better.’
He used the profanity deliberately, and with relish. He was well aware that Knight didn’t hold with swearing – didn’t hold with much at all, that Cade could see. He found Knight’s self-righteousness aggravating, not least because if Knight and his kind had their way the whole county would be doomed. As far as Jurel Cade was concerned, the needs of the many outweighed those of the few, and being forced to live with the implications of that conviction was one of the burdens of public service.
‘As for our friend in there,’ said Cade, ‘if he comes up dirty, I want to hear about it, and if he comes up clean, I want him expelled from this locality. You have a good night, now.’
And with that he was gone.
When Knight returned to check on him, Parker was lying on his back in the shadows, contemplating the ceiling of his cell.
‘That was quite the performance you staged,’ said Knight.
‘I heard you talking to Chief Deputy Cade. I thought I should back up your story.’
‘Why would you do that?’
‘For the same reason you lied to him in the first place, I suppose.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘Because the less he knows, the better.’
‘Knows about what?’
‘About anything.’
Knight tamped fresh tobacco into his pipe. ‘Just who are you?’
‘You know my name.’
‘That’s not what I meant. We’re accumulating agitation because of your presence here. If you were more open, it might serve to diminish it, and enhance your general likability.’
‘It wouldn’t make any difference what I said. Most of the details you won’t be able to check until morning. And I’m starting to grow fond of this cell. It has character.’
Knight relit his pipe. Griffin wasn’t around, and the smell would most likely have faded by morning.
‘There’s a fresh pot of coffee,’ he said, ‘if you want some.’
‘I’m good, thank you. If no one else is likely to be kicking at the bars for the next few hours, I’ll try to get some rest.’
‘You do that. We’ll pick you up some breakfast from Ferdy’s come seven. By the time you’ve scraped your plate clean, we should know more about you.’
But Parker didn’t reply, so Knight left him in peace. He chatted with Colson, who had just returned, and began catching up on paperwork. He was halfway through the first report when he realized that Cade had never introduced himself to Parker, yet Parker had known him by sight.
Knight looked at the clock and decided that morning, and answers, couldn’t come quickly enough.
9
Despite what he’d told Knight, Parker did not close his eyes. He had some Ambien back at his motel room, but he wasn’t about to ask someone to go get it for him. In any case, he worried about growing dependent on it, and used it only when even a series of disturbed nights failed to make him tired enough to rest well – which, for Parker, meant dreamlessly.
Who are you?
I do not know. I can only say what I was.
And what was that?
I was a husband, a father.
And now?
I am neither of those things. I am a widower. I do not know if there is a name for one that has lost a child. If there is, there should not be. It is unnatural.
What do you see when you close your eyes?
That’s easy.
I see red.
10
Evan Griffin’s phone rang shortly after 5 a.m. He heard Ava, still half-asleep, start to complain as he dove for the receiver to stop the noise. She’d never wanted a telephone in the bedroom, but Griffin was a heavy sleeper, and the phone downstairs could have sounded until doomsday without waking him. He turned his cell phone off at night and left it in the kitchen. He’d heard stories about radiation, and decided the device properly belonged with the microwave.
‘Hello?’
‘Evan, it’s Kel.’
Kel Knight rarely called him Evan. The last time was when Griffin’s mother died. He sat up as Ava came fully awake beside him.
‘What is it?’
‘We have another body.’
Parker opened his eyes. Dormancy, or some version of it, had come to him eventually, but now he’d been woken by sounds of activity in the station house. After a few minutes Naylor, the young officer who’d put the cuffs on him back at the bar, appeared, dressed in full uniform. Parker asked what was happening, but Naylor gave him the cold eye before leaving again, once he’d established that the prisoner still appeared to be in one piece. Parker listened closely, trying to pick up some clue as to what might be happening, but the door connecting the cells to the main body of the station was firmly closed, and any conversations between the officers were muffled and unintelligible.