“What about weapons, say military grade weapons?” Wilson asked. “Does your boy Frisco have anything to do with stolen military weapons?”
“No, your information is wrong on that.”
“So, you do know Francisco Oliveira?” Burke asked.
“Yeah, Frisco and I go way back. He’s not into anything illegal.”
“You do know his stance on certain issues though,” Burke said, without really asking.
“Yeah, he’s a realist and wants to be prepared if all hell breaks loose. That doesn’t make him a criminal and he certainly doesn’t have military grade weapons or explosives,” Forsander said.
“When is the last time you talked to him?” Wilson asked.
“Oh, it’s been weeks,” Forsander said.
“Not yesterday?” Burke charged, his stare fixed on Forsander.
“Yesterday? No.” His voice was raised an octave or two.
“I think you’re lying. I think you received a call on a burner phone from Oliveira yesterday after two private investigators asked him about Zoe Reopelle,” Burke said, watching Forsander closely for a reaction. It was what he expected.
“No, I don’t use a burner phone, and I didn’t get a phone call from Frisco yesterday,” Forsander lied.
“Someone in Lansing did. Tell us who else in Lansing Oliveira would have called yesterday,” Wilson said.
“I don’t know,” Forsander lied again.
“And I think that young woman who entered this house with you a few minutes ago could have been Zoe Reopelle, who is a missing person,” Burke said.
“We just want to talk to her and ask her a few questions. She’s over eighteen years old and if she can assure us that she’s okay, we’ll leave her alone provided she isn’t doing anything illegal,” Wilson added. “But what we have right now is reasonable cause to search your house. We think she’s inside.”
Without saying a word, Forsander attempted to shut the door. Burke anticipated his actions and already had his foot inside. Thank God for steel-toed boots, which was the only thing protecting Burke’s foot from the slamming of the door. Wilson pushed the door in on Forsander, knocking him back and off balance. Forsander crashed into the wall behind him as the two men crowded into the entry. Burke closed the door behind himself.
The stairs leading up were tucked behind the front door. A pair of female legs wearing yoga pants was halfway down. Upon seeing the commotion in the entry, she turned and ran up the stairs. Wilson was on top of Forsander. Burke took the stairs two at a time. “Federal agents! Stop!”
At the top of the stairs, a door slammed shut. Burke tried the door when he reached it. It was locked.
He knocked. “Federal agent. Open the door. I’m not going to hurt you!” He waited a few seconds. “Zoe, are you in there? Zoe Reopelle?”
The door swung open and he came face-to-face with the young woman who had gotten out of the pickup truck. It was not Zoe Reopelle. This girl was a few years older than Zoe. “I’m not Zoe. Is that what this is about? She’s not here.”
“But you know her?” Burke asked.
She hesitantly nodded. “Yeah, but she’s not here.”
“Come back downstairs with me and let’s sort this out,” Burke prompted. He followed her down the stairs.
Wilson had Roderick Forsander secured with his hands zip-tied behind his back. “Help me get him up,” Wilson said to Burke.
Burke pointed to the couch in the front room. “Why don’t you have a seat in there, and we’ll help him up and let him sit beside you.”
Burke and Wilson kept an eye on the unknown young woman while they pulled Forsander to his feet. Burke had not searched her, and knew they should, but they also were quite sure she had information and thought the chances were better to get it from her if they didn’t search and restrain her. They sat him beside her, and they stood in front of the couch, their backs to a wall. Burke was positioned to see out of the window and also the stairs and entry areas. No one would get the drop on them.
“First off, you could have saved yourself a lot of trouble if you’d just cooperated,” Wilson said to Forsander. “Now tell me the truth this time. Is there anyone else in this house?”
“No,” Forsander answered.
Wilson’s gaze shifted to the young woman. “What’s your name?”
