He found his way through the two smaller rooms of the cave, crawled up the chute to the surface, and emerged in the woods. The sun was high overhead and breaking through the trees, the air humid and smelling like wet clay.
The day was half gone, his day just beginning. Latrell thought about walking through the woods, across the rail yard, into the terminal building, and sitting down at his desk as if it was an ordinary day, but he couldn’t think of a lie to tell that would explain why he was late, dirty, and still wearing yesterday’s clothes.
No one was waiting to arrest him when he got home. Latrell spent an hour in the shower, exhausting the hot water, letting the cold sting his skin until he was numb and clean.
Standing naked in his bedroom, he found the business card the FBI agent had given him. He ran his finger over the raised print that spelled Jack Davis’s name and turned the card over, reading the name of the other agent he was supposed to call if he remembered something about the night of the murders. Ammara Iverson. She was one of the agents who had talked to him that night.
He tensed, his shoulders knotting, and dialed her number. She answered. He told her his name, asking did she remember him, waiting for her reaction.
“Yes, Mr. Kelly. I remember. What can I do for you?”
She was polite but unexcited, not acting like he was a wanted man. His muscles eased and he loosened up.
“Agent name of Jack Davis come to see me the other night. He give me your phone number in case I remembered something about the night of the murders.”
“Well then, I’m glad you called,” she said. Her voice sharpened and he imagined her sitting up in her chair, like he was about to crack the case for her. “What did you remember?”
“That’s not why I’m calling you. I didn’t remember nothing because I didn’t see nothing, just like I told you and him.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Marcellus, he had a little dog. I took it in so it wouldn’t get hurt or nothing. Then I give it to Jack Davis, only I forgot to give him some toys I bought for the dog. I was hoping you could give me his phone number so I could tell him to come get the toys.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kelly. We’re not allowed to give out that information, but if you give me your number, I can pass it on to Agent Davis and he can get in touch with you if he wants the dog’s toys.”
“My number ain’t listed. I don’t give it out, either. You tell him I got something for him and if he wants it to come get it.”
Ammara said she would and he believed her. He started to dial the number for work to tell them that he was sick, but stopped, setting the phone down. It didn’t matter why he wasn’t at work because he was never going back.
Chapter Fifty
“I’ll drive,” Kate said.
“Why?”
“Because, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re shaking.”
I was. A few light tremors. Not constant, more like a quick shudder. “That’s from your kiss.”
She laughed, patted my cheek, and picked up her purse. “I’m?attered, but I’m still driving.”
“I can drive.”
“I’m certain you can, but my presence will look more innocent if I’m driving. It makes the whole girlfriend thing more believable. And we should bring Ruby. That will show him we believe his story about the dog’s toys.”
“You’ve got this figured out.”
“It’s what I do.”
“I thought your job was to find jurors that are gullible enough to vote for your client.”
“Of course it is. But gullible isn’t as easy as it looks. There are a lot of ways to tell a story. My job is to frame it in the way most likely to convince the jury. You can knock on Latrell’s door by yourself doing your macho FBI thing and hope he spills his guts without trying to kill you.”
“Or?”
“Or, the three of us-you, me, and the dog-can make a social call that doesn’t scream ‘assume the position, dirt bag.’ “
“Nobody says ‘dirt bag’ anymore.”
“But you do say ‘assume the position.’ “
“Not on a first date.”
“Cute, but not cute enough,” Kate said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You’re not going to let me talk you out of this, are you?”
“No. You can leave me here but I’ll follow you. I may even call Troy Clark, tell him where you are going and that you need backup.”
We were standing less than a foot apart. Her shoulders were square and her face was tilted up at mine, her lips pressed together in a tight, determined line. I put my hands on her wrists, gently lowering her arms to her sides, pulled her closer, and returned her kiss.
“Okay,” I said. “You can drive, but I’ve got to get something from my car.”
A moment later, I slid into the front passenger seat of Kate’s BMW 730i. There was a laptop bag and a stack of journals in the backseat. Ruby was in the back with her front paws perched on the center console between Kate and me. She leaned over the dog, kissed me again, and ran her hand around my waist, stopping when she found the gun I had tucked into the back of my waistband. She pulled away.
“Good,” she said.
“Good?”
“In case you’re right and I’m wrong.”
The last traces of daylight had faded and the sky overhead in Quindaro was a dull black. Ground light had reduced the stars to patchy distant glimmers, the moon too low to make a difference.
Latrell’s house was in the middle of the block. The front door was bathed in a soft yellow glow from lamps fixed to the wall on either side. There was a double window to the left of the door, muted interior light leaking through a curtain.
The gang I’d seen playing basketball down the street from Marcellus’s house the other day were watching from a driveway across the street. They stood, forming a tight pack, the ringleader at the point, as we glided to a stop.
“Wait here,” I told Kate.
I stepped out of the car and waited until the ringleader was looking straight at me. We did the same silent dance we did before. He gave me the same slight nod, agreeing that neither of us was interested in the other’s business. I nodded in return as he motioned to the others and they ambled toward the corner.
Kate lowered the passenger window.
“What did you say to them?”
“Nothing, but it was the way I said it. Let’s go.”
She scooped Ruby into her arms and stepped ahead of me. I caught up to her at Latrell’s front door.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Leading with our strengths, which are Ruby and me.”
Kate elbowed me in the ribs, pushing me outside the field of vision of the peephole in the center of the door. I stepped back, my right hand on the butt of my gun, as she rang the bell.
I’d been on this side of a suspect’s door many times, always with a partner or a SWAT team, never with the shakes. My rule was always to plan for every contingency, control everything I could, and trust my people and my training for everything else. That rule was out the window. I had no plan, no backup, and I had let a jury consultant and a dog take the lead. To make matters worse, I didn’t know whether I’d be shaken or stirred when Latrell opened the door. I took a breath and said a prayer.
Kate waited, not taking her eyes off the door. A shadow passed across the peephole from inside the house. She shifted Ruby under her left arm, holding her like she was a miniature battering ram, and rang the bell a second time.
Another five seconds passed before the door opened slowly, Latrell standing half in the doorway, his left side hidden. His right shoulder was level. If it dipped, odds were he was pulling a gun. He’d have to step all the way into view before he could shoot us unless he fired through the heavy oak door. That would slow the bullet, distort its trajectory, and tip the odds in our favor for a fraction of a second.