“And yet, idiotsdocommit crimes. Why didn’t you call me?”
I shoved aside the voluminous branches from a cedar tree instead of answering.
“Charley?”
“I didn’t call you because you cleaned your apartment.”
“What? What are you talking—” His mouth snapped shut with the click of his front teeth colliding. “You still think I’m guilty. You think I cleaned to cover up my involvement.”
“Not anymore, I don’t. That’s why I’m calling. I just found actual evidence.”
“Awesome. But what am I supposed to think about you believing I could ever be involved in something like this?”
“That I was doing my fucking job, Vance. When there’s a murderer on the loose, you practice caution with people who’re acting suspicious. That’s, like, hour one of Marshal training. At least until you have reason to exclude them from suspicion. Such as a more likely suspect. Which brings me back to the reason I’m calling you from deep in the woods, in the middle of the night. I mean, if you’re interested.”
“Your sarcasm is noted, but not necessary.” Springs groaned over the line as he sat up in bed. “Tell me. I’m putting you on speaker, so I can get dressed,” he added, as the quality of his voice changed, and a soft thump told me that he’d set his phone down.
“I spoke to Eamon, and—”
“You called Eamon?”
“He knew Silas. Did you really expect me to ignore our only resource because of a personal grudge?”
“Hell of a personal grudge,” Vance muttered over the line, his voice fading as he walked away from the phone.
“Anyway, he told me Silas has a son named Denny, who’d be around twenty-two now.”
“And he never thought to mention that before?”
“He said he didn’t think Denny was involved, because I only mentioned one kidnapper.”
“So he’s blamingyoufor—”
“I’m not defending him. I’m just telling you what he said. Which is that he didn’t want to unfairly prejudice us against the kid because of what his father did, considering there was no evidence the kid was involved.”
“I take it there is evidence of that, now?”
“Maybe? I mean, he fits the profile, which makes him the best suspect we have so far. Unless you want me to put you back on the list.”
“Funny. But how does he fit the profile? I’ve never heard of this kid, so the probability of him knowing any of our regulars is slim.”
“That’s what I thought.” Finally, I could see moonlight glinting off the grille on my truck, up ahead. “But then I found a bunch of emails from his mother—Becky something or other—to Silas, mostly asking for money. I also found a picture of Silas standing next to the kid, when he was a young teenager.”
“Becky? I thought Silas’s ex was named Connie, or something.”
I shrugged into the dark as I swung my nylon bag over my shoulder and began digging in it one-handed for my keys. “I’m guessing Connie was the one he lived with, but Becky was the kid’s mother. Either way, the emails are from a woman named Becky.”
I pressed the button on the key fob to unlock my truck, then I pulled the door open and slid into place behind the wheel. “Anyway, the photo is old, but the boy’s face is still recognizable. And the reason none of us know any Denny Morelock is because he’s been going by another name for years. Probably part of Eamon’s attempt to keep him from being associated with the sins of his father.”
“And I assume I’m going to recognize this name?”
“Yeah.” I started the engine and twisted to look out the rear windshield while I backed rapidly down the dirt road and onto the narrow country highway. “You and I, and just about everyone else in the zone know Denny as Billy Bullen. My fucking short order cook.”
FIFTEEN
There were three vehicles in the lot when I parked behind the Fat Cat Bar and Grille. One of them was Bishop’s 4Runner, but the fact that it was lined up neatly between the other two told me he’d gone home after his shower, and that he’d been there, with Austin, when Vance called them both in.
“What thehell, Charley!” Davey demanded when I shoved my way through the swinging doors from the kitchen into the front of the bar. “It’s four o’clock in the morning.”
