“Yeah, I do.” Peters was going to say something else, but looked beyond the two of them out to the road, “Ahh, shit.”
Viper had followed them out from St. Paul. Once they’d reached Hisle’s, he’d scoped out his current position, half a mile away, standing in a park on the bluff, two-hundred feet above. There were swing sets, slides and sandboxes all over, abandoned since kids were in school and the cool weather of November had rolled in. He was by himself, looking down from the bluff with a pair of high-test binoculars. He would have been able to look inside Hisle’s house if the shades weren’t drawn.
Once he found his spot, he made the call. The boss wanted the heat turned up and fast. The first call was to Channel 12 and then to Daniels’ Channel 6. Once the call was placed, it took the Channel 12 news truck forty-five minutes to get out to Stillwater. Just as he saw the truck coming out of downtown Stillwater, he’d seen the detectives walk out the front door. He was briefly concerned, would the media miss them? No. They weren’t leaving. Rather they were loitering around in front. The one Viper had learned was named Peters was standing on the front steps, facing him while McRyan’s and Lich’s backs were turned. Peters had a smile on his face, and it looked like the group was enjoying a laugh. Things must have gone well inside. Viper moved his head to the right and down slightly, picking up the van as it pulled up. He looked back up to Peters, and saw his smile vanish when the news van pulled up. He could read Peters’s lips, and while his smile may have vanished, a small one creased Viper’s face.
The front door opened, and Viper saw Hisle look out. Hisle saw the news van as well, and a grim look overtook his face. The detectives and Hisle went back in the house. The Channel 6 van pulled up just then. A reporter and cameraman got out. All four of them stood around talking, waiting for something to happen. They didn’t have to wait long.
Hisle carefully closed the front door before he turned to the three men. “When did they get here?”
“They just pulled up,” Peters replied.
“I guess it was inevitable,” said Hisle, and then a little suspiciously, “How do you suppose they found out?”
Peters gave Lich a little look. Did you talk? Lich gave a little shake of his head. No. “I don’t know, Lyman. They didn’t follow us, we made sure. I don’t know how they found out.”
Lyman shrugged. It was all going to come out anyway. “What will you say on the way out?”
“I assume that means we’re done?” asked Mac.
“Yes, it does. You’ll do what you have to do. Again, what will you say to the media?”
“For now, nothing,” replied Peters. “But we’ll be charging the senator, and that’ll be news. I’m sure the department and district attorney’ll have something to say.”
“I imagine so,” said Hisle with a wry smile. “I can’t imagine Helen Anderson missing time in front of the camera.”
Everyone shared a knowing smile. With that, the three of them left. Mac took the circular drive back out towards the main road. The media were standing in the middle of the road. As he pulled up, Peters let his window down from the back seat. The blond reporter was from Channel 12. Mac had seen her many times but couldn’t remember her name, Polly something or other. She stuck her microphone inside. “So what are you doing out here, is Senator Mason Johnson a suspect?” she asked.
No we’re out here enjoying the fall colors, Mac thought.
“We have no comment right now,” replied Peters.
Channel 6, a brunette, yelled, “Will you be arresting Senator Johnson?”
A better question, thought Mac.
“Again, we have no comment right now. You can contact Sylvia Miller later today. She’ll have something to say.” With that Peters put his window back up, and they pulled away, heading back towards St. Paul. The media futilely yelled questions at the Explorer as they drove off.
Chapter Eleven
The media was waiting for them when they got back to St. Paul at 5:00 p.m. Mac understood the attention that was coming. This was a big story: a United States senator implicated in the murder of a news reporter. It was going national as a story and would turn into a circus before all was said and done. Mac had called Sally on the way in to let her know what had happened. They would be working late he thought.
Once back they headed up to Chief Flanagan’s office. Sylvia Miller met them in the hallway. They knocked and headed in.
The chief saw them come in and didn’t wait for them to sit down, “Tell me.”
“He did it,” said Peters.
“He admitted that, of course,” the chief replied wryly as he came from behind the desk and waved everyone towards the couch.
“Oh, yeah, all the way down to crushing her windpipe,” Lich chimed in as he found a spot on the couch to sit.
“Good, just in time for the media cabal out front.”
Everyone laughed a little. Sally Kennedy and Helen Anderson walked in just then and joined them over by the couch. The chief, down to business, asked more seriously, “So, what really happened?” Peters nodded to Mac.
He gave Flanagan the run down for the next several minutes. He stuck strictly to the facts. Peters, pimping his detectives, jumped in a couple of times to talk about the good cop, bad cop routine Lich and Mac had put the senator through. At the end, the chief was smiling. Mac liked Flanagan and so it was good to see a smile crack his face. It had been a long week for him.
“So,” the chief asked Mac, “we have our killer, do we?”
“I guess so.”
“You guess?”
Mac hesitated, “No. Probably our guy.”
The chief pressed, “You don’t seem so certain, boyo. What gives?”
Mac thought for a moment and decided, what the hell, he’d play devil’s advocate. “It’s too easy.”
“Hah,” Lich bellowed. “What’s wrong with easy? I love easy.”
“That explains Dot,” replied Mac with an evil grin. Lich scratched his nose with his middle finger. Kennedy saw the juvenile display between the two of them and giggled.
“Who’s Dot?” Peters asked, clueless.
“Nobody,” replied Mac. “I still can’t get over the fact that a guy this smart did this. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“When does murder ever make sense?” replied Lich. “I’ve spent twenty years dealing with it, and very few have ever made any fuckin’ sense.”
Mac nodded, “I know, I know. But something’s bothering me about this, and I can’t for the life of me put my finger on it.”
“Shit,” replied Lich dismissively. “The senator looked guilty as the day is long.”
“Agreed,” said Peters.
“I agree with you both for the most part,” Mac replied, scratching his head. “But there was a couple of times during the interview where I almost felt like he was…” he was grasping, “… I can’t explain it.”
Sally gave it a shot. “You felt like he was telling the truth?”
Mac pointed at her. “Yeah. Something like that. It was just a feeling I had a couple of times. That he had genuine emotion, not of guilt, but of loss. I can’t even tell you what triggered it.”
“Son,” the chief interjected, “I’ve seen guys who murdered their wives, girlfriends, best friends. After they did it, they felt a sense of loss, but you know what? They were still murderers.”
“And, Mac, if he didn’t do it,” Sally said quietly, thoughtfully, “who did?”
“Well, that’s the issue now, isn’t it?” Mac said. “Like I said, it was a feeling I had. I have no evidence, zero, zip, nada, to point at anyone else. It’s probably silly to have even have brought it up.” Mac sat back on the couch, exhaling, wishing he hadn’t said a thing about it. Lich was probably right. What’s wrong with easy?
The chief picked up on his disappointment, “Don’t feel bad about it, boyo. Senator’s been a convincing guy for a long time. You’re just reading a little too much into things, which happens.” The chief then smiled. “Bottom line is you and Lich have done a hell of a job here.”