Clint flattened his palms on the table. “I got those skinned knuckles in the fight Saturday night. The scratches are scabbed over already. They wouldn’t look like that if I’d done them just yesterday.”
Ray studied him a moment. He didn’t have to say anything. Clint knew what he was thinking. Things in this town had gone downhill since Clint’s release. People had gotten out of sorts. Lives had been disrupted.Well, tough shit.Clint’s life had been disrupted too. He’d lost over ten years. Like Ray himself had said, Clint had a right to be here the same as anyone else.
“Just stay out of the public eye as much as possible until we get a lead on this,” Ray suggested. “I don’t want any more trouble.”
Clint pushed away from the table and stood. “You won’t get any from me.” He hesitated before heading for the door. “I still want to see those files, Ray. I don’t know why you’re putting me off.”
Brady rose from his chair, looked from Clint to Ray. “Any reason you’re dragging your feet on sharing the case file?”
“I’m not putting you off, Clint.” He shot a look at Brady. “Or dragging my feet. Yesterday was Sunday and I’ve been a little busy this morning.” Ray stood. “I don’t know what you think you’ll find. You’ve seen most of it already. It’s best to move on.”
“Is there something you’re hiding from me, Ray? Is that the problem with me seeing the case files?” The vehemence in Clint’s voice startled him. Startled Ray too. Dammit, Clint hadn’t meant to lose control like that. He’d lost too much control already. But he’d seen the guard go up in Ray’s eyes. Clint knew him well enough to know when he was hiding something.
The door opened. Caruthers stuck his head inside. “Everything all right in here?”
Clint looked from the nosy deputy chief to his boss. Brady looked annoyed as well.
“We’re good,” Ray confirmed.
Caruthers closed the door, but not before he gave Clint one last hard look. That was the way things were in this town. Clint would always be the bad guy ... even when he wasn’t. But then he’d known that before he’d come back.
“Look, Clint, I will get to it. You have my word.” Ray presented an understanding face that lacked any substance. “All the files ten years old or older were moved to permanent storage in the basement of the courthouse. I’ll need time to find that one ... if it wasn’t damaged beyond salvaging in that water leak a couple years back. But you have my word that I’ll see what I can do.”
Sounded like an excuse to Clint. “You do that.” Ray had no intention of allowing him anywhere near those files.
When Clint reached the door, Ray stopped him with one last question: “Any chance Emily Wallace was watching your place yesterday?”
“No.” Clint started to leave it at that, but he hesitated, decided to make things perfectly clear. “I don’t think she’ll be coming around my place anymore.”
She’d learned a hard truth. Had felt guilty. So she’d come to pay her penance. He understood that yesterday was nothing more than a pity fuck.
She wouldn’t be back.
39
2:45 p.m.
Ray dreaded this one about as much as he had Clint’s. Getting through it was necessary.
Mike would question Larry Medford, and Fitzpatrick would handle Perry Woods.
Ray entered the interview room where Troy Baker waited for him. That was one of the not so good perks of being chief. The jobs no one else wanted were always yours.
“Troy.”
He didn’t look up. Sat at the table, his head bowed as if he were praying.
Ray sat down across from him and opened his notepad. Someone had already brought Troy a cup of coffee. He hadn’t touched it.
“I need some answers, Troy. Why don’t you start with the last time you saw Keith,” Ray suggested when Troy still didn’t look up.
Troy lifted his head. One cheek was bruised and scraped. His nose was swollen; both eyes were black. “You know when I saw him last.”
Ray had expected Troy to be upset. Keith had been his best friend. But where was the anger? The need for vengeance? This resignation was not typical Troy behavior.
“So you didn’t see him at all after Saturday night when Violet dropped you off at home?”
Troy shook his head. “Nope.”
