“No ... I didn’t. But I can’t be sure he didn’t have one under his coat.”
“Don’t worry. I’m on the way. You stay in your apartment. No matter what you hear, you and your children stay put. Keep a watch out the window, and if you see them leave, pay attention to the vehicle and the direction they go.”
“I got you, Sheriff.”
The minutes that followed dragged by like molasses. No matter that Bent drove like a bat out of hell, it still took him way too long to get to Washington Street. He’d called for backup, but he didn’t want his deputies to arrive before him. Too risky.
His phone vibrated. It wasn’t until then that he realized it was still clutched in his hand. “Sheriff Benton.”
“Sheriff,” Johnson whispered, “they’re leaving the building.”
“Don’t let them see you looking out the window.”
“Okay, but I saw a gun ... He’s got a gun.”
A new blast of terror lit inside Bent. “I’m almost there.”
He tossed his phone aside as he zoomed through the intersection of Washington and Elk. On the next block, Vera, Erwin, and the man with the weapon were on the sidewalk. Even without the sirens and lights, they heard the roar of the cruiser’s engine and looked in his direction.
Bent waited until the last minute to hit the brakes, sliding into the sidewalk.
The man jerked back, yanking Vera with him. Erwin hit the ground.
Weapon in hand, Bent barreled out of the cruiser.
The other man’s weapon leveled on Bent.
Bent kept charging forward.
Vera’s left arm flew out, knocking the man’s arm upward as she twisted and kicked his legs out from under him. They went down in a heap. The weapon slid across the sidewalk.
Bent was on top of the bastard with a boot ground into his chest before he could make a move to get up.Gill Jamison.Bent pressed the muzzle of his weapon against the man’s forehead. “Don’t move, asshole.”
41
Lincoln County Sheriff’s Department
Thornton Taylor Parkway, 1:00 p.m.
Vera settled into a chair on Bent’s side of the table as he readied to interview Gill Jamison. In a surprise move, Jamison had waived his right to counsel.
They had already interviewed the others. Hernandez and Martinez did not have visas, and Carter had threatened to turn them in and even to lie and say they had stolen from her if they didn’t help with her plan. Alternatively, she’d promised to give them every dime she had in savings if they cooperated. They didn’t have to kill anyone. The goal was to distract the police investigation from what her nephew had done. To shift blame to the Parson brothers and to Alicia.
For the most part the two reluctant participants only had to say what Carter told them to say. Martinez confessed to attacking Vera and Erwin. It was the one illegal demand Carter had made of him, besides making false statements to the police. Hernandez had used Thomas Wilton’s key to sneak into Erwin’s place and leave the burner phone—her one illegal step. Both unknowingly giving Carter even more control.
Carter claimed that Erwin had planted the phone in Alicia’s room just before they all left the mansion on Thursday evening, but Carter had retrieved it. Carter also admitted to having personally broken into Larry Parson’s motel room—she insisted it was easy. The door lock hadshimmied open with the use of a credit card. She did this while he was out to lunch. She left the bat and other items in the closet, as well as Alicia’s personal things in a drawer, to help frame him. But she denied having anything to do with his death. She insisted she was out of the room and gone before he returned.
Conover had confirmed that a deadly level of fentanyl residue was found in the whiskey glass on the nightstand next to the bed, which, according to toxicology, was the culprit in Parson’s death. It would take some time and some doing to prove Carter was the one to plant that as well. Might even be impossible, but so far she was spilling her guts about everything else.
Vera hadn’t actually expected Carter to cop to Parson’s murder. She had a theory about that one as well as the “weird” visitor Parson had called her about. To that end she had asked Conover to go to the Regency and check Parson’s room again for a certain item. She should be hearing back from him any minute now.
But the coup de grâce of the day no doubt would be Gill Jamison’s confession. Vera studied him as he surveyed the interview room. He didn’t appear the slightest bit nervous or angry or resigned. He just sat there, looking around.
Vera couldn’t wait to hear the whole story—assuming he decided to give it.
Once Bent had switched on the recorder and identified all in the room, he started with a direction question. “Mr. Jamison, why don’t you begin by telling us about your day on Monday, September 1, from the moment you arrived on the Wilton property.”
Gill relaxed in his chair. He looked from Bent to Vera and back. “I landed my Mosquito—my mini helicopter—in a clearing just over a quarter of a mile from the cabin. From there I hiked to my destination. I lingered in the woods, watching and listening until I was ready to go in.”
