Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #3: Books 9-12 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [reading in the dark TXT] 📗

“No.”

“Shit, man…”

“Is that it? Are we done?” I reached across the table and took his coffee. I stood and handed it to Dehan. “Detective, will you take this, please? Throw it in the trash and wait for me in the car. I shouldn’t be more than a minute or two at the most.”

The door clanged open. Dehan left and it closed behind her. I sat and looked Wayne in the eye. It was not a pleasant sight. There was real hatred there. I leaned toward him. “Get this clear in your head, Wayne: You have needs, you feel me, dude? You have needs. Me? I have a job. If Angela’s killer is never caught, I will not lose one minute’s sleep. You? You will still have to serve out your sentence, and believe me, it will go on your record that you were not cooperative with the police in this investigation. Now, if you have something more than ten minutes of bullshit to offer me, start talking. But if I have to listen to another five seconds of your crap, you will have squandered the one and only chance you will ever get of a deal. I suggest you think hard about what you say next before you open your mouth.”

He took his time about answering. When he did, he took a deep breath and said, “I want a deal. I can give you who killed Angela, but in exchange I want my sentence reduced to time served. Angela’s killer is a dangerous son of a bitch, man. I ain’t kidding. Me? I snort coke, I walk the line, I play around a little, but I ain’t dangerous the way this guy is dangerous. This guy is sick, man, really sick. You fee…” He sighed. “You know what I’m saying?”

“I speak English, Wayne. I know what you’re saying. Now, if you want me to even start thinking about talking to the DA about a deal, you need to give me something I can take to the bank. I’m not going to turn up and say, ‘Hay, Darcel, I have a real strong feeling that that son of a bitch Wayne Harris is telling me the truth. Why don’t you offer him a deal?’ Do you understand that, Wayne?”

He stared at the wall for a while. “Yeah, I understand that, Detective Stone.” He sighed. “OK, how about you take me for a ride to the creek, and I show you where that boy hid her purse. You get her ID, you know who she is, you can give her family some peace and closure, and that will be proof positive that I was there and saw what happened. Will that be enough for you to take to the DA?”

“You saw that? I thought you said he ran.”

“He did. He ran. He ran and hid in the bushes. So did I, man. That coast guard boat never saw the body, but if he hadn’t a run and hid, it would have seen him. Maybe me, too. But once it was gone he come back, he took her things, like her purse and shit, and hid them. And I can show you where.”

I studied his face for a while and he studied me back. Finally I said, “You want to give me one good reason why I should not arrest you right now for the murder of Angela?”

He made a face like I’d asked him if he believed in fairies. “C’mon, man! That is the stupidest thing I ever heard in my life! I’m in for five years. I might be out in two or three. Why would I deliberately implicate myself in a murder that would put me away for the rest of my life? That is just plain stupid, man.” He stared hard at me. “I will tell you who done it, but I need that deal, otherwise I will not tell you shit.”

I thought about it for a moment. On the basis of what he had told me alone I could have the whole area searched and find her purse myself. But the moment he told me her purse and ID were there, what had become of supreme importance was what he had not told me: what he had kept back. And he knew that as well as I did. I was still the rat and I was still in his damned maze.

I said, “I’ll talk to my inspector. If he agrees, we’ll come and get you tomorrow.”

He smiled and narrowed his eyes at me. For a moment he looked like a large snake. “I know,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Detective Stone Cold. Say hi to Detective Dehan for me. She is one cute babe.”

I stood and went to the door. It rolled open with a loud, metallic echo. His voice stopped me.

“Tell me something, Detective.”

I turned and looked at him.

“You getting any of that? I figure she likes it rough. Am I right?”

I left.

I found Dehan sitting in the car with the doors opened, listening to English Tudor music. She turned it down as I got into the car, and looked at me. She said, “What?”

“We talk to the inspector and arrange to take him to the crime scene tomorrow. He is going to show us where her purse and her ID are hidden. After that, if we are satisfied, he wants a guarantee from the DA that if he gives us the name of the killer, he will get his sentence reduced to the time he has already served.” I drummed my fingers on the wheel. “Effectively he gets released in exchange for giving us the name of the killer.”

“That’s some deal, but it’s a fair price to pay for getting a serial killer off the streets.”

I looked at her for a while. “I just hope we