Darnell scrolled a little. Paused. His thick brow lowered.
“Ah, here we go: ‘Due to the lack of material witnesses and the origin of the fire being consistent with a faulty circuit breaker, the case is officially marked as suspicious. Dr.Reeves awoke from a coma seven days after being admitted to the hospital, an outcome that the doctors initially claimed was unlikely. Interview attempts with Dr.Reeves proved unsuccessful; degradation of the Broca’s area of the brain from oxygen deprivation was observed, which appears to have affected the victim’s ability to communicate verbally or in writing. Interviews with the man’s wife and daughter did not reveal anything pertinent to the investigation. They claimed to be unaware of any strife between the two men.’” Darnell raised his eyes. “Now, you wanna put Eugene Reeves on the board?”
Vaughn frowned.
“He’s nonverbal. Can’t write.”
“Still ambulatory, though—according to you,” Darnell countered.
“I saw him in the field. The man is practically a vegetable.”
“Maybe that’s what Dr.Reeves is hiding. Maybe she’s covering for her dad, maybe he’s behind this.”
“Yeah right.” Vaughn paused. “Wait—You serious?”
“I’m serious.
“C’mon, Darnell. That’s ridiculous. Delaney had a gun on him, told him to put his hands up. He just stood there.”
“An unarmed old white dude in a field? With two witnesses? Not much risk of being shot.”
“Delaney was screaming at him, at all of them. Darnell—Hey, where are you going?”
Darnell flashed his phone.
“To visit the detective who investigated the fire. ‘Practically a vegetable’ isn’t good enough for me, Vaughn. Not by a long shot.” It looked as if Darnell was about to wink, but smartly decided not to. “And I’ve got a hunch.”?
?Chapter 49
Retired Detective DougHowe sat in a wicker chair on his front porch, smoking a cigarette. He was fat with unruly gray hair. A wide nose, heavily lined face. Pockmarked skin, a telltale sign of long-term alcohol abuse. The man was a weathered detective if Vaughn had ever seen one. Beside the ashtray overflowing with cigarettes was a half-empty bottle of vodka.
The man said nothing as they approached, just butted out his smoke and sipped from a glass of clear liquid and ice. Howe’s flowing movements suggested that this wasn’t his first drink of the day. As did his flushed complexion.
“Doug? Doug Howe?” Vaughn said as he and Darnell approached.
“What do you want, officers?”
Doug’s voice matched his appearance: gruff.
“Detectives—Ryan and Sacker.”
Doug had no reaction to this. He lit another smoke, took another sip.
“If you want to talk about Neely and Reeves, I can get you a glass. You’re going to need one.” Doug tilted his drink in their direction.
“No thanks.”
Vaughn was surprised with how fast Darnell responded. Probably didn’t want to let this sit, give Howe an opportunity to convince him. Wouldn’t have taken much.
“Suit yourself.”
“How did you know we were here about the fire?” Vaughn asked as Howe refilled his glass with a healthy pour.
“It’s coming up on the third anniversary.” Howe shrugged. “And it’s always on my mind. You know how they say that when you retire, there’s that one case that just messes with you? That you can’t get out of your head?”
Vaughn nodded just to humor the man. It wasn’t the claim he disagreed with, it was the use of the word ‘one.’ Vaughn wasn’t close to retiring, not by a long shot, but already several cases nagged him daily.
“That was my case. And before you ask, yes, I think that Eugene Reeves started the fire.”
