I coughed and nodded nervously in agreement.Yep, odd all right. Shit.
“So, what do you think happened that night, Lee?” he asked.
“Me, sir?” I asked, my thoughts racing.
“Yes, you. You said you were the first medic on site, right?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.
Did I? I couldn’t remember. Which was probably exactly what he’d hoped.
“Um…” I glanced around the room, wondering if I’d be able to outrun the detective if I had to. I tensed, and saw the detective’s finger tap gently on his weapon and our eyes locked.Fuck.
“Look, I’m just trying to understand what the situation was, son. Was the kid a victim, or one of the perps? Was he there voluntarily? Maybe what happened to him was just a little lover’s quarrel. That hotel is known for hosting a lot of ‘escorts’,” Jarreau said, making little air quotes around the words as he spoke. “Maybe he’s just a hooker who’s into pain,” he said shrugging. “Maybe he wanted it… Maybe he liked it,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at me and leering salaciously.
“He didn’tlikeit, asshole,” I snarled through gritted teeth, anger boiling inside me at his suggestion. “And he sure as fuck didn’t want to be there. They’d tied him to the fucking bed!” I bit out.
Memories of Mason’s bruised and bleeding body, his broken arm, the small whimpers he made as I worked on his wounds was making me see red. I realized, suddenly, I was on my feet and had taken a menacing step toward the detective.
Jarreau looked up at me, unperturbed by my rage. The leer had left his face quickly, replaced by a thoughtful expression.
“Really? I didn’t see that detail in the report, either,” he said,writing in the small notebook. “Humph. And ‘they’ implies more than one person. We really need to get on these beat cops to be more thorough. Is there anything else that might have been left out of the ‘official’ report, Lee?” he asked, looking up at me expectantly.
Fuck. The anger drained out of me as quickly as it had arrived, and I sat back down in defeat.Fine.
“I didn’t know,” I began, my head in my hands as shame washed over me. “I thought he was older. I thought… I thought he was there willingly. The website was… convincing,” I said. “They posted pictures. Dates. Times. He looked a lot older in them.” My voice trailed off.
“‘They’?” the detective prompted, not looking up at me.
“Two men. He was… terrified of them. Ricky is the one I… um, the one who’s dead,” I amended. No need to justwalkright into the jail cell, I guessed. “He called the other one Dreyven. He’s… the one who got away,” I growled, striking my aching leg with a clenched fist. “I was too goddamn slow.”
I winced at my stupidity, on multiple occasions now, and rubbed the aching spot on my leg, then gave the detective the best description I could of Dreyven.
“He was five foot ten, maybe? Two hundred fifty pounds. Long, stringy black hair, shoulder length. Might have some American Indian or Polynesian in his background, maybe? I knew a guy in the service with similar eyes,” I said.
“Service, eh?” Jarreau asked, gesturing to my cane. “Is that how you got that? I noticed your dog tags.”
I nodded, tapping my tags self-consciously. I’d worn them for so long, I didn’t even think about them anymore. I sat there for a few more minutes wondering how long it was going to take me to find a lawyer in Milwaukee, and how the hell I was going to explain all this to my parents. I gave Jarreau the website address that had led me to Mason, but I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be much help. The addresses changed almost daily.
Jarreau spent a few more minutes writing in his notebook beforespeaking. I was pretty sure his next words were going to be my Miranda rights, so you could imagine my shock when he continued.
“Whoevershot Ricky Taylor did this city a public service,” Jarreau said, reading from his notes. He looked up, catching the surprise on my face, and said wryly, “The fucker was suspected in a string of rapes, kidnappings, two murders in Milwaukee alone, as well as wanted for questioning in an ongoing investigation into human trafficking.Myinvestigation.”
My face must have shown my surprise, as Jarreau continued.
“Unfortunately, decisions about prosecution aren’t up to me, Lee. I’m sure that the person who shot Taylor has his, or her, reasons for not coming forward.”
I sat there dumbfounded as he continued to write notes. He reached into his pocket, and despite his words, part of me expected him to pull out handcuffs, but all he did was hand me a card that had his name and number printed on it. The back had the words “Confidential Informant Line” with a toll-free number, and the word “harem” printed in italics. I looked up at him in question.
“Someone in my office has a fuckin’ twisted sense of humor with the code words. I’m determined to make sure these assholes are prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, Lee. If you ever need anything, ifheever needs anything…” he said, nodding his head at Mason, “Call this line. Leave your name, and the code on the back. I will move heaven and hell to help, if I can. We really do serveandprotect.”
I gave him a stiff nod and stuffed the card in my pocket. I stood and leaned hard on my cane as I made my way to the hallway.
“Oh, Lee,” he called after me, “We found these odd markings on the floor outside the motel. Strange round marks… like the shooter had been using something to help them walk… something like a cane, maybe?”
His eyes held mine and my breath stuck in my throat.
“Whoever that was might want to make sure they cleaned the blood off the bottom of their cane,” he said.
I swallowed, hard, and nodded jerkily again, then got the hell outof there. I passed Tira Graham on the way back to Mason’s room but managed to duck inside another room until she’d gone by.
