Bobby didn’t return his smile. “I’m Detective Bobby Vaughan. This is Val Ryker. We’re both from the county sheriff’s office. We need a word with you.”
He gestured to the window with the razor. “Listen, I’m in a hurry. Got to finish this today. Closing tomorrow.”
“It can’t wait.”
Tillman flipped the guard closed on his razor scraper and shoved it into the pouch on his belt. Grabbing a striped towel from a back pocket, he dried his hands. “Okay. What is it?”
“I need to ask you some questions about your father.”
Ice-blue eyes—identical to Dryden’s—squinted at the reference. “Father? You have the wrong man.”
Before they’d left the taskforce offices, Bobby had looked up Tillman’s mug shot. He’d been young when it was taken and as thin as a rail. But the face was unmistakable—particularly those eyes. “You’re the man.”
“I don’t have a father.” He gave a half frown as if realizing how inane the comment sounded. “I mean, I’ve never met him. My mother never even told me his name.”
“Well, I’ve met him. And I have some questions. If you’ll cooperate, we can make this quick and you can get back to work.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I believe cooperating with police is part of the terms of your parole. It would be a shame to go back into the system after only being out two years.”
“You think you know all about me, huh?”
“I want to know more.”
Tillman’s jaw hardened. He stared at Bobby the way he’d probably stared down fellow convicts.
Bobby didn’t flinch. Tillman might have twenty pounds of muscle on him but, in this situation, Bobby and Val were the ones with the power. If Tillman was smart, he’d recognize that.
Finally Tillman let out a long breath. “What do you want to know?”
“Maybe we should step outside.” Bobby gestured to two men who were working in the master bath. “Unless you want everyone to know your business.”
“Fine. But make it short.” Tillman headed for the door.
Bobby fell into step behind him and Val brought up the rear. So far, so good. But as easy as this encounter had gone so far, he wasn’t about to trust the ex-con.
Not for a second.
Tillman stopped just outside the front door. From here, a dump truck blocked Bobby’s view of the car. He directed the ex-con down the steps and past the truck until Bobby could see Diana and she them.
She shook her head.
So she didn’t remember seeing Tillman. Bobby wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad.
Tillman scowled. “What is she? Some kind of witness? You trying to pin something on me?”
“She’s not a witness.”
“What is she then?”
Bobby hesitated. He didn’t want to tell this brute who Diana was. He wanted to slap the cuffs on him and throw him back in the slam where he belonged. Of course, if Tillman wasn’t the copycat, he shouldn’t pose any danger to Diana. And if he was, he already knew about her. “She’s your sister.”
“I don’t have a sister.”
“No, you have two.”
Tillman glanced from Bobby to Val and back, his eyes as wary as a trapped animal. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Where were you last night?”
“Why? What do you think I did?”
“I’m asking the questions, Tillman.”
“Should I be calling a lawyer?”
After a lawyer entered the fray, it was doubtful Bobby could convince the ex-con to admit his name. Of course, he couldn’t let Tillman know the suggestion bothered him. “You have a lawyer handy?”
“I had a lawyer.”
“Ten years ago?” Bobby threw his hands out to the side as if Tillman was making a stupid mistake. “You can track down your lawyer, waste the rest of the day and a lot of goddamn money, or you can answer a few simple questions and say hello to your sister. Your choice.”
Tillman narrowed his eyes to icy slits. “Give me your questions and I’ll decide if I want to answer.”
“I gave you the first already. Where were you last night?”
He looked out at the street without really seeming to see it. “I was home.”
“Is there anyone who can verify that?”
“I live alone.”
“Did you go out at all? Talk to anyone on the phone?”
“No. I ate a frozen pizza and fooled around on eBay.”
“Bid on anything?”
“No.”
Standing next to him, Val scribbled in her notebook.
Bobby stroked his chin. “Not much of an alibi.”
“Didn’t know I’d need one. You still haven’t told me what the hell this is about.”
“How about Saturday night?”
Tillman shook his head. “I don’t know. Nothing. Watched TV.”
No alibi for either the night Nadine Washburn had been abducted nor for the night her body had been displayed in Diana’s hotel room. So far, Curt Tillman wasn’t off to a good start. “You said you don’t know who your father is.”
“That’s right.”
“Have you ever visited the Banesbridge Correctional Facility?”
“No.”
“Have you ever visited the Wisconsin Secure Detention Facility?”
“You know I can’t associate with cons. Condition of parole.”
“How about before you were in prison?”
“When I was a kid?”
“Yes.”
“What are you saying? My father is in prison?” He glanced back at the car as if looking to Diana for help.
“Answer my question.”
“I don’t remember ever setting foot in a prison. Not until the day I was sentenced.”
“Tell me about that.”
“Nothing to tell.”
“You were convicted for manslaughter.”
“I got in a fight. I killed a man.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I served my time.”
“And that happened in Milwaukee?”
“Was that a question? You must know it did.”
“What brought you to the Madison area?”
“There’s nothing in my parole that says I can’t live in Madison. I informed the court of my move. I dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s.”
“But you grew up in Milwaukee. Everyone you knew was in Milwaukee. Why the move?”
“I wanted to branch out, find some new friends.”
Bobby stared the con down. He needed his smart-ass sarcasm like he needed a hole in the head. “You’re not doing yourself any favors with that attitude.”
Tillman expelled a breath. “What does my move from Milwaukee have to do with anything?”
“Do you expect me to believe you moved for no reason whatsoever?”
“No. I had a good reason. But it had nothing to do with some father I don’t even know if that’s what you’re getting at.” He tossed Diana a glare. “Or any sisters.”
“What does it have to do with?”
He balled his hands into fists, as if preparing to slug his way out. “I’ve cooperated enough. Now it’s time for you to give me some answers. Who the hell do you think is my father?”
Bobby focused on the hard lines of Tillman’s face. He might as well tell him, watch for his reaction. “Ed Dryden.”
Tillman’s eyes flared wide. Red crept up his neck. “You’re full of it.”
“It’s true.” Val’s voice rang steady. “Ed Dryden is your biological father. He was involved with your mother when they were both teenagers back in a little town up north called Oshishobee.”
Tillman swung to face her. “Bull.”
“You look just like him,” she said.
“Fuck off.” Tillman spun around and strode for the house.