Kinew moved closer, peering at the grisly pendant, and she stiffened, wondering what he would see. Would he accuse her of disrespecting the artifacts of their ancestors? How would she convince him it hadn’t been her idea?
“It’s a good replica,” he said finally.
“It’s not a replica – it’s the real thing. It’s probably hundreds of years old.”
The chief shook his head slowly with a sorrowful expression, no doubt believing she’d been ripped off. “Afraid not. It’s far too new-looking for that. Authentic arrowheads aren’t shiny.”
“What are you talking about? It isn’t shiny.” She felt more than a little self-conscious as Kinew leaned in, studying the pendant on her chest.
“Wait a minute. What is this?”
As soon as he touched the arrowhead, a tremendous shockwave of electricity forced them apart.
Kinew’s body slammed against the doorframe of his office, his eyes wide and startled. The ledgers fell from his arms and scattered around his feet.
Maria was dazed herself, but rushed to help him. “Are you okay?”
Shaking his wounded hand, he nodded. “I think so, but I’d take that off, if I were you.”
He showed her what had provoked him to touch the arrowhead.
His fingers were wet with blood.
Chapter Seventeen
As the cop slammed me against the wall, my mother screamed.
“Take it easy! He’s not resisting you,” my dad protested, and it was the only time I’d heard my old man sound defeated. “Why are you doing this to him?”
“Reese Anthony Wallace, you’re under arrest for first-degree murder. You have the right to remain silent.” The cop had me pinned, my cheek pressed against the drywall. He snapped the handcuffs painfully tight around my wrists, giving them an extra twist. I recognized him from the night I’d given my statement, and I’d noticed even then he’d seemed mean as fuck.
“Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law.”
“Where’s Detective Greyeyes? I want to speak to Detective Greyeyes.”
The cop swung me around by the arm. He obviously loved every minute of this and made no attempt to hide it. “Detective Greyeyes is busy right now, but I’ll tell her you send your regards. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police, and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future.”
When he shoved me toward the door, making me stumble over my own feet, his partner reached out to steady me. “Ease up, Archer,” the man said, his forehead creased in concern. “He’s cooperating.”
“This sack of shit murdered three people. I’m going to show him the same amount of consideration he showed them.” Archer punctuated the statement with another shove. The handcuffs were so tight I worried my arms would be ripped from their sockets. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish.”
As his words sunk in, I struggled to face him, wrenching my neck. “Wait a minute. There has to be some mistake. I didn’t kill anyone.”
If anything, the sadistic cop’s hold grew tighter, and I noticed his partner was gesturing at me, trying to get my attention. “I’d keep your mouth shut, kid,” he said.
“No, let him talk. He can tell us his story on the way to the pen. This oughta be good.” Archer laughed, and at that moment, I hated him with a ferocity I’d never experienced before. “If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time.”
“He’s got an attorney.” My dad trailed us to the door and then onto the front walk. “Reese, don’t say anything. Prosper will know what to do, just stay quiet. They can’t force you to talk.”
“Did you hear that? Kid’s lawyered up already. What a surprise.” Archer shoved me inside the cruiser with such force I toppled over on my side. The cop tried to slam the door behind me, but his partner stopped him.
“His belt isn’t fastened.”
“Who cares? Let him get tossed around like trash, ’cause that’s exactly what he is.” The cop leered at me, and for a horrifying moment, I thought I was going to piss myself. Thankfully, the sensation passed, but aside from that dreadful morning in the campground, I couldn’t remember ever being so scared.
“It’s the law,” Archer’s partner insisted. He reached inside the car and pulled me into a sitting position. His movements were careful rather than rough, so I decided to plead my case with him.
“Can you loosen the handcuffs, please?” My voice cracked. “They’re hurting.”
“Are you actually asking for mercy, you shit? After what you did? You have no fucking shame.” Archer kicked my foot, which jostled my shrieking arms and shoulders enough that pain ricocheted through my upper body.
“That’s it, Archer. Back off,” his partner snapped, and I was relieved he used his body to shield me.
“I think you’re on the wrong side, Markham.”
“I don’t care what you think. You’re a hothead. Do you want to get sued for police brutality? His parents are watching, for Christ’s sake.” He gently pushed me forward and sucked in his breath. “Jesus Christ. Give me the keys.”
“I didn’t realize you had such a soft spot for murderers and rapists. Maybe I should request a new partner.”
“If you don’t, I will. Now give me the damn keys.”
I flinched when the tangle of metal came flying at my savior’s head, but I needn’t have worried. The cop called Markham snatched it out of the air. As he fit the key in the lock, he said, “Christ, kid, you’re trembling. I bet we don’t need to use cuffs on you at all, do we?”
“No sir.”
“If I take these off, do you promise to sit quietly?”
My fevered assertions could barely be heard over Archer’s swearing. Markham removed the cuffs and fastened my seatbelt before shutting the door. I’d watched enough crime shows to be familiar with the good-cop, bad-cop routine, but at this point I didn’t care if it was an act. If it weren’t for Markham’s kindness, I’d still be in excruciating pain. As I rotated my wrists and rubbed them together to get the blood flowing again, my mind raced. How can they arrest me for murder? I didn’t do anything wrong.
“I’m driving,” Markham insisted, and I was beyond grateful, even though it would leave Archer free to sneer at me through the partition. “You need to calm your ass down.”
“I bet you feel like a real big man, protecting a murderer. I hope you can sleep at night.” For a moment I thought Archer was going to refuse to get inside the vehicle, and that would have been fine with me. But then he spat on the driveway and climbed in, slamming the door. “You’re a fucking pussy, Markham.”
“Yeah, it takes a real hero to beat the snot out of a kid in handcuffs,” Markham replied, starting the engine. “I’m sure the mayor will give you a medal.”
“Fuck you,” Archer said, and I recoiled at the venom in his voice. I had no doubt Officer Markham would pay dearly for his kindness.
“Thanks for the offer, but you’re not my type.”
When Markham shifted into reverse and backed out of my parents’ driveway, I leaned my head against the seat and shut my eyes, ignoring the reporters who surrounded the car, begging for a quote.
For the first time since I’d met him, I looked forward to seeing Prosper.
Detective Greyeyes arrived before my lawyer. Overwhelmed with relief, I rushed to the bars. She retreated a step at my approach, and I hesitated, confused. I’d been sure she would tell me it was a mistake, that she would get me out of here, but I could tell from the coldness in her eyes that wasn’t to be.
“Please tell me what’s going on, Detective. I’ve been here for over an hour, and no one’s told me anything.” I wasn’t sure how long I’d been locked up, since the police had confiscated my phone wh
en they’d booked me. It had to have been an hour at the very least. It felt like years since they’d thrown me in this stinking cell, my only company a muttering drunk sleeping it off.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to discuss the case with you.”
How could she pull this formal shit on me now? “I’ve always been honest with you. I’ve always cooperated. You know I didn’t kill Jessica, or Kira, or Dan. What’s going on?”
“Are you waiving your rights, Reese? Would you like to give a statement?”
The question startled me. “Do you think I should?”
“No, I think you should keep your mouth shut until your lawyer gets here. You’re going to dig yourself into a deeper hole.”
When she turned away, waves of claustrophobia hit. I gripped the bars, pleading for her to wait. “I don’t understand why I’m in any hole. What happened? What changed?”
“What changed is I realized I was an idiot to have believed your story.” Greyeyes shook her head. “After all these years, you’d think I would know better by now.”
“But I’ve told you the truth. I’ve told you everything I know.” Everything except my feelings for Kira that night, and my suspicion that they were returned.
It must have shown on my face, because her jaw tightened. “That’s what I’m talking about, right there. You’re still hiding something from me.”
“Nothing about…about what happened. Only something personal. Something that isn’t relevant.”
“That’s the problem, Reese. In a homicide investigation, nothing is personal and everything is relevant.”
As she started to leave, I saw something hanging around her neck. I didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it. I had to squint and rub my eyes before I was certain. “Why are you wearing that?”
She glanced at her chest, only to start at the sight of the arrowhead, as if she hadn’t expected it to be there. Grabbing the rawhide thong she’d used to tie it around her neck, she dropped the pendant inside her shirt.
I was dumbfounded. “That’s evidence. How can you wear it?”
“It’s not what you think, Reese.”
“Of course it is. I found it, remember? I know exactly what it is. It might be the thing that clears my name.”
“I doubt that.”
“I can’t believe you’re doing this. I trusted you.”
She snorted. “You’re a fine one to talk about trust.”
Before I could respond, I heard the sound of someone hurrying down the corridor. It was Prosper, looking as flushed as I’d ever seen him. “Are you talking to her?” He glared at me. “Did I just catch you talking to a cop?”
“Don’t worry,” Detective Greyeyes said. “He’s sticking to his story.”
Prosper waited until she was out of earshot before he spoke again. “Are you mad? Do you want to spend the rest of your life in prison? You have to start keeping your mouth shut, Wallace.”
“But this is a mistake. I’m not supposed to be here. I didn’t do anything—”
“I didn’t do anything,” my lawyer simpered in a childish falsetto. “Give me a break, kid. If we have any hope of preparing a defense for you, you’ve got to do better than that.”
“But I really didn’t do anything. I told you what happened. I told you—”
Prosper charged the bars, scaring the crap out of me. I was glad there were bars between us; I only wished I was the one on the other side. “For fuck’s sake, kid, they’ve got your DNA. So it’s time to cut the crap.” His eyes flicked to my roommate. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but he turned a whiter shade of pale. “What’s up with that guy? Is he listening to us?”
“No. He’s passed out cold.”
“How do you know?” Prosper tipped his head at the unfortunate man. “Give him a kick, see if he moves.”
“I’m not going to kick him.” Where in the hell did my parents find this guy, the yellow pages?
“Well, we can’t discuss your case under these conditions. Let me talk to them, see what I can do.”
“Okay.” Prosper seemed crazy, and DNA evidence? What DNA evidence? I’d hung out with those people, shared a meal and beers with them, slept in a tent with one of them. Of course my DNA would be at the scene, but that didn’t mean anything. It certainly didn’t mean I’d killed them.
“You should start telling your lawyer the truth, kid,” my cellmate slurred from his bunk. “A weasel like that ain’t got no room to judge.”
Chapter Eighteen
The coroner’s words kept swirling in Maria’s brain as she drove. They gave her a headache.
We’ve found some DNA and there’s a match….
Three people were brutally murdered. One person survived.
One of the victims had suffered a violent sexual assault.
Guess whose DNA was found in her vagina?
How could I have been so stupid?
She’d been surprised when the judge signed the warrant. After all, Reese had been intimately involved with the victim. They had his statement that he hadn’t had sex with his girlfriend that night, or the night before, but he could easily say he’d gotten the dates confused.
But she didn’t think he had, and evidently, neither did the judge. For now, everything they had was circumstantial, but juries had convicted on less. The search warrant hadn’t resulted in much, but maybe she’d be able to get him to confess. With a confession, they’d have a much better chance of putting that monster away for life. Never mind the fact that they still didn’t know how he’d killed Kira – the poor girl had been ground into hamburger.
If only Maria hadn’t believed him. If only she hadn’t been irresponsible enough to get emotionally involved.
She slammed her hand on the steering wheel, making her Suburban swerve. Get a handle on yourself, Maria. Everyone makes mistakes.
Not cops. Cops weren’t allowed to make mistakes. When they made mistakes, people died.
The darker her thoughts, the heavier the arrowhead weighed around her neck. She loathed it, but she was afraid to touch it. The last time she’d tried, she’d experienced more than quivers of nausea – she’d puked, and quite violently. Best not to do that while speeding down the highway.
For once in her life she was glad Heidi would be in bed when she pulled into the driveway. She couldn’t deal with her daughter’s exuberance, her stubbornness, or her questions. Not tonight.
As she dragged herself up the front steps, the door opened, warm, yellow light spilling into the dark and enveloping her husband in its halo.
“Hey there. Are you all right? You sounded terrible on the phone.”
She flung herself into his arms, sending him back a few inches. For some reason she didn’t understand, she felt like bawling. It had been years since the job had made her cry.
“Ouch!” Ben moved away, wincing. He looked down at his chest, where a dark spot was forming on his grey T-shirt.
“What’s wrong?” She was so raw that she took his withdrawal as a rejection, even though she could see something else was going on.
“What the—?” Taking off his shirt, Ben stared at the scratch on his chest. He pointed at her pendant. “That thing cut me.”
“I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional.” She was stung by the anger in his voice.
“It’s okay, it’s just a flesh wound.” Balling up his now-stained T-shirt, Ben pressed it to his bleeding chest. “Why are you wearing that thing anyhow? I thought it was evidence.”
She wasn’t ready to admit she’d woken up in the middle of the night with the repulsive thing around her neck. Ben liked to tease her about her forgetfulness. What if this made him think she was senile? Or worse, insane? “This is a replica Chief Kinew made me. Cool, huh?”
Ben gave her a rueful smile as he dabbed at his chest. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.
But I’m surprised you took it, honey. I thought cops didn’t accept gifts. Couldn’t it be seen as a bribe?”
“Oh, it’s different on the reserves. You have to accept gifts or it’s an insult.” She had no idea if that were true or not, but she was also pretty sure Ben wouldn’t know. And he wouldn’t care enough to check. “Besides, why would he bribe me? He doesn’t want anything from me.”
“You never know. It doesn’t hurt to have a police officer in your back pocket. Especially a beautiful one.” Ben protested when she smacked him on the arm. “Hey, no fair. I’m an injured man.”
“Actually, now that I’m home, I’d really like to take it off. Would you help me?” Mindful of what had happened to Kinew when he’d touched the arrowhead, Maria presented her husband with the nape of her neck, hoping he could untie the cord without making contact with the pendant.
She heard her husband suck in his breath, as if he’d spotted a particularly big spider crawling across the floor. Goose bumps broke out on her arms. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Well, I don’t quite understand how you managed this, but your hair is caught in the rawhide.”
“So pull it free. I don’t care, I can handle it.”
“It’s not that easy, hon.” She felt his tentative fingers at her neck, gently tugging at her hair. Since the hairs there were fine and short, every time he pulled it was like getting pricked with a fine needle. “This is a bad tangle. I might have to cut it free.”
“What? It can’t be that bad.”
“Remember the time Heidi got gum caught in her hair and we had to give her a pixie cut? This is worse.”
Slowly, she moved her hands to join her husband’s, terrified at what she’d find. She gasped when she discovered the mess. Her usually smooth, well-behaved hair was a snarl of impossible knots. She tore at it, using her fingers to separate the strands, her eyes burning with tears at the pain.
Those Who Came Before Page 12
