“I want out. They’re getting too dangerous,” the young man whispered, his voice cracking slightly.
“Come with me.” He guided him to the conference room and gestured toward a chair. “I’ll be right back.”
The man nodded but kept his bloodshot eyes locked on the surface of the table. Rawley studied his trembling hands for a few seconds, then left the room and rapped his knuckles sharply on Dave’s door. After entering the office, he sank into the sofa.
“So, our little songbird made it in through the storm, huh?” Dave asked, leaning back in his creaking leather chair.
“Yes. I’m going to record everything. Do you want in on this interrogation?”
“Hell, no. Your case, Rawley.” Dave’s weathered face split into a grin. “I know you can make him squirm.”
Rawley chuckled. “Looking forward to it.”
“Let me know how it goes.”
“Yes, sir.” Rawley strode to his desk, yanked open the bottom drawer, removed a small silver tape recorder, then marched back to the conference room.
He pulled out a chair the wheels sliding along the carpeted floor, sat down, and turned the recorder on with a decisive click.
“Name and date of birth.” he demanded, voice clipped and professional.
“Jared Hill,” the man mumbled through chapped lips, then provided his birthdate, fingers drumming nervously on the table.
“Who are the other men?”
Hill took a deep, shuddering breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Axel Roby—”
“Is that the ringleader?” Rawley interrupted sharply.
“Yes, the others are, Hal White, Colby and Carson Jessup.” His words tumbled out in a rush.
“Brothers?”
“Yes.” A single bead of sweat trickled down Hill’s temple despite the room’s chill.
“Where are you all from?”
“Missoula.”
Rawley leaned back, the chair protesting under his weight, folded his arms across his chest and stared at him with the patience of a predator.
“Tell me about the truck. Who does it belong to?”
“The pickup?” Hill’s fingers twisted together.
“You can tell me about the semi too.” Rawley watched his eyes widen to saucers, pupils dilating with fear.
“Uh, we stole the truck,” Hill confessed, voice barely audible. “The semi belonged to Hal.”
“Where is it—” Rawley paused when the door opened and Laramie stuck his head in.
“Do you mind if I sit in on this?”
“Not at all.” Rawley looked at Hill. “This is Agent Saunders. Continue.”
Laramie pulled a chair out and sat down, keeping his eyes on Hill.
“We set it on fire.” The words rushed out now. “It’s deep in the woods, not far from the ranch we stole from, but it’s just a black charcoaled mess now. You won’t be able to get a VIN from it.”
