“He’s got the right type of vehicle, and he’s clearly violent,” Evan pointed out. “And stupid enough to fire at a law enforcement officer.”
“But no one can find his vehicle. The deputy said the garage was empty?”
“Yes.”
“How’s he getting around, then?” Mercy frowned. “And where is the truck?”
“Maybe he ditched it, suspecting that it’d been seen the night he attacked Bree.”
Mercy turned to study the quiet house again. The flutter of a window curtain indicated they were being watched. “How far out is SWAT?”
“Another twenty minutes. They’re bringing a negotiator.”
“Twenty minutes? Dammit.” She needed results now. “Where’s that bullhorn?”
“Now, Mercy—”
“I’m going to ask some questions. Don’t worry. I have negotiation experience. The most important part is to not say the wrong thing.”
Like it’s that simple . . .
Evan turned around and swore under his breath. He strode to a county vehicle and got a bullhorn from the deputy.
“Tell them to put their shotguns back in their vehicles,” she said as he handed her the bullhorn. “I don’t want him to believe we’re ready to attack.”
“No one will attack.” His glare stated she was ridiculous.
“I know that, but to him four deputies with shotguns look threatening.”
Evan considered, nodded in agreement, and gave the order.
Mercy considered what to say and then brought the horn to her mouth. “Silas Dillon. I am Special Agent Mercy Kilpatrick from the Bend FBI office.” She paused. “We’re looking for a truck that fits the description of yours.”
Put the focus on an object. Not him.
“I understand the truck is not here. Can you tell us where to find it?”
“Why is the FBI here?” The shout came from the open window where Mercy had seen the curtain flutter.
“The truck may be linked to a federal investigation. We’d like to confirm it’s the correct truck.”
“It’s not here!” Another shout.
Mercy sighed. “If it’s not the right truck, we’ll be done here, Silas. Can you tell us where to find it?”
Don’t remind him that he shot at an officer. Shift his focus.
“I don’t know.” Uncertainty was in his shout.
Mercy and Evan looked at each other. “He’s lying, of course,” stated Evan.
“Silas, do you have a cell phone?” Mercy asked through the bullhorn. “I’d much rather talk instead of yelling. I’d like to understand why you don’t know where your truck is.”
“I have a phone.”
Mercy rattled off her cell phone number through the bullhorn.
“Why the hell would you do that?” muttered Evan. “Now he has your number.”
“I’ll get a new one. Not important at the moment.”
Her phone rang. “Silas?” she answered.
“Yeah. I don’t know where my truck is.”
“I appreciate your call so we don’t have to yell.”
Let him believe he’s helping the situation.
“When did you last drive your truck?” She switched her phone to speaker so Evan could hear.
“What’s this about?” he asked nervously. “Is someone hurt?”
He sounds confused.
“Not exactly,” she lied. “We saw a truck like it parked next to a . . . house we’re investigating.”
“You’re just looking for my truck,” he said slowly. “No one was hit.”
Hit?
“Hit by your truck?” Mercy frowned. She exchanged a confused look with Evan.
“Yeah.”
“No. We aren’t looking for a vehicle that was in an accident.”
Silas exhaled loudly over the phone. “Thank God. I thought I fucked up.”
“Silas . . . I feel like we’re talking about two different things.” The suspicion that she was talking to the wrong man grew stronger and stronger. “Was your truck in your possession the day before yesterday?”
“Yeah.”
She didn’t want one-word answers. “Did you drive it somewhere that day? Where did you go?” she added quickly before he answered with another yeah.
“Timbers.”
Evan grimaced. Mercy was familiar with the dive bar on the outskirts of Bend. The run-down building with the dozen garbage cans out front had never encouraged her to venture inside, and the absence of windows gave her the creeps.
“And then where did you go?”
“I don’t know. I woke up when I hit the rock.”
Mercy and Evan stared at each other. “Where’s this rock, Silas?”
“Well, that’s the problem. I remember getting out and looking at how I’d smashed into the rock, but the next thing I know I woke up in my bed. No truck.”
“Did you walk home?”
“I guess so. Don’t know who’d drive me. I live alone.”
Mercy muted the phone while she spoke to Evan. “Get three of your deputies to drive the roads between here and Timbers—closer to here, I assume, if he walked home drunk.”
“Silas,” she said back into the phone. “We’re gonna help you out and send some guys to locate your truck, okay?”
“Sure would appreciate that. You sure I didn’t hit no one?” His voice wavered.
“We haven’t had a report of that recently.” She looked at Evan for verification. He shook his head.
“Sorry about firing at that county vehicle,” Silas said. “Thought I’d hurt someone, and they were here to take me to prison.”
“Silas, now that we’ve got this cleared up, I’d like you to come out. Leave any weapons in the house, okay?”
“What’s going to happen to me?”
“Well, you did admit to driving drunk, right?” And firing at officers.
“Yeah.”
“But no one was hurt. So you’ve got that going for you. You understand you’ll be arrested when you come out, right?”
He didn’t answer.
“I promise they’ll keep it simple.” Don’t give up on me now.
“I want you to do it.”
Surprised, Mercy looked at Evan, who shrugged with one shoulder. “You established a rapport,” he whispered. “He thinks he knows you.”
“You got a deal, Silas,” she said. “Here’s how we’ll handle it. I want you to come out with your hands up, so I can see they’re empty, okay? And when you get past that first rock in front of your house, I want you to lie on your stomach with your hands on the back of your head. Got that?”
“Hands. Rock. Yeah.”
“I’ll have to cuff you, but you already knew that, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll do a quick search of your pockets after that, and we’ll be done. Smooth and simple.”
“Okay.”
“You can hang up now. Leave your phone in the house.”
“I don’t like to go anywhere without my cell phone.”
Mercy briefly closed her eyes in exasperation. “Me too. But I’d have to take it away from you anyway, so let’s leave it in the house.”
“Okay. Hanging up now.”
“See you outside, Silas.”
Mercy ended the call and exhaled. “Think he’s being honest?” she asked.
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
“His truck still could have been the one at the Ingram house,” Mercy speculated. “Someone else could have driven it. Even if he’d been drinking at Timbers, someone could have borrowed his truck and brought it back. Sounds like Silas was smashed enough to not notice.”