“Not much beer, not at the end anyway.”
“Enough.”
“When?”
“When did you die? It’s been about a day and a half,” Brier said.
Stack looked around the spare bedroom—the walls covered in twenty years’ worth of evidence, all the boxes lining the floor, the smudged up windows and thick dust in the corners. “This is it? No white light? No pearly gates? And my old partner as an escort? Is that why you’re here? To take me to the other side?”
Brier shook his head. “I’m here to run the case with you.”
“Why? You know this case inside and out.”
“I want to hear it from you, one last time.” He waved a hand. “Old times’ sake, and all.”
Stack licked at his lips, still dry. His eyes went to the glass of water on the table. He had drained it a few minutes ago—the glass was full again. “That’s a neat trick.”
“Want more?”
Stack nodded.
Brier lifted the glass and held it to Stack’s mouth. When it was gone, he set it back on the table. “Better?”
Stack nodded again. “Where should I start?”
“Wherever you’d like.”
“Maybe I should start when you died.”
“When was that exactly?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Not really.”
Stack told him. He explained how Brier had followed the man in the black GTO back to the house at 62 Milburn while Fogel tailed the Thatch kid. How someone took him out with a head shot. “Ballistics confirmed a .45 caliber. The shot came from a Sig Sauer P220. They found the gun. Someone tossed it into the bushes. No usable prints.”
“But you think it was the guy in the GTO?”
Stack shrugged. “Probably. Although, they found tracks for a Chevy behind both your car and the GTO. Possibly a third party. It could have been them, too. No way to be sure without more information.”
Brier kicked the lid off one of the boxes sitting beside the table, the one for the Dormont house. He reached inside and took out the letter from Richard Nettleton. “This is from the girl’s father, right?”
“Yeah. The Thatch kid had it, remember? You gave me a copy.”
Brier seemed to think about this. “Things are a little fuzzy.” He dropped the letter back in the box. “Tell me about the Thatch kid. Where is he now?”
“Dunno. Fogel lost him in Nevada. She’s trying to pick up the trail again. He’s with the girl, though. We know that much.”
“Where do you think they’re heading next?”
“Can’t say.” Stack looked around the room. “Who were those people in the white vans? What did they do after…”
“After you died?”
Stack nodded.
“You killed one of them, you know that, right?”
