Devetko was standing beside his desk when he entered the main room, arms crossed, foot tapping. Kristeva winced, expecting a diatribe, yet got none as he retrieved the relevant files from his desk and then followed the other detective back outside in silence like a chastened child. A fwoomp sound made him glance up and he stared at Devetko's black umbrella on the way to the car, wondering why he never had the sense of mind to bring one of his own. He had to mull it over for a moment, did he even own an umbrella...? He shook his head to rid it of the ridiculous thought, since obviously there were more pressing issues to deal with.
They'd been thoroughly prepared to speak with Jenner after Mitch's interview, and the guard had been taking them to another area of the prison, when they'd been intercepted by a second guard who requested that they follow him to the warden's office. It turned out that news of Mitch's outburst had already spread and some of the other inmates had grown restless; nothing serious developed as a result, but the two had been requested to delay their second interview until things could settle down. They'd had to return to Minot without talking to the former police officer; and so now here they were again, on a Saturday morning, ready for a second drive to Bismarck.
"This wasn't exactly how I envisioned my weekend going," Devetko finally spoke up as they neared the car.
Kristeva shrugged but of course it wasn't noticed. He made a face at how his clothes stuck to him, soaked through with rainwater. "The permission is good for three days. Normally I wouldn't be here either, but it'll be expired by Monday. You didn't really strike me as the sort who has a whole lot going on socially, anyway." He halted a split second after Devetko did, and Devetko pivoted on one heel to glare back at him. "No offense...?" After a particularly uncomfortable several seconds, Devekto turned back around and grasped the driver's side door handle, so Kristeva could only assume he would be in the passenger's seat today; he walked around the car and opened the opposite door. "I doubt it can go any worse than yesterday's interview. So we should be back with plenty of time to spare for you to, I don't know, do whatever the hell it is you feel like doing, barhopping, clubbing, going home with a hot lady on each arm, whichever."
Devetko glared at him again over the roof of the car. "I'm gay, dumbass."
For a second Kristeva just gave him what he was sure must be an utterly moronic look. "Whatever floats your boat," he said at last, since it was literally the only phrase that passed through his mind.
Then fwoomp--the umbrella came down, and Devetko disappeared inside the car, the door slamming shut and the engine roaring to life. Kristeva ducked inside before he could get left behind. He fought not to grimace even harder at the puddles forming around him as he buckled himself in, nearly hitting his head on the dashboard when the car backed out of the parking spot so abruptly the tires actually squealed. He bit the inside of his mouth and decided that polite conversation was out of the question by this point.
The first hour of the ride went by in absolute silence, aside from the swish of the wipers across the windshield and the hum of other cars passing on the road. Devetko stared straight ahead like a particularly peevish mannequin and Kristeva kept silent as well, occasionally glancing out the side window. It was quite a while before the memory of the odd dream he'd had that morning returned to him, and he mulled it over for a few minutes, trying to figure out why some part of his brain had marked it as important enough to recall. Devetko didn't seem like the sort who'd be interested in chattering about dreams, so that couldn't be the reason. He looked down and saw that he was grasping his left forearm with his right hand, as if it unconsciously bothered him, and then everything came flooding back at once.
Preparing himself for an argument, he said, "Something about Mitch's interview's been bugging me."
"Shoot up," Devetko said, and Kristeva frowned and looked at him, but he didn't look back, still keeping his eyes on the road. "He said he 'shot up' that July lady, and he could 'shoot you up' too if he had the chance." He finally turned away from the road to meet Kristeva's eyes with his own frown. "When you kill somebody with a gun, you shoot them. Mitch said shoot up. Why 'shoot up'? Why use that particular phrase?"
Kristeva stared at him for a moment more--What did I tell myself about underestimating this guy?--then looked out the windshield, himself. "Can see I don't need to explain the issue..."
"We're overlooking something." Devetko turned back to the road. "Was a tox screen done along with July's autopsy?"
Kristeva blinked. "I don't know. I only read the basic results about her shooting. If there was anything else unusual, Steiner never mentioned it."
"Well, he seemed rather 'preoccupied' the last time we saw him, so maybe a second look at the autopsy results wouldn't hurt things."
He fell silent again just as abruptly as he'd started talking, and if they hadn't just had the conversation, Kristeva would have assumed he was being given the cold shoulder. After waiting a moment or two to make certain no more talk would be forthcoming, he settled back in his seat the best he could and tried to doze a little for the rest of the ride.
Arriving at the prison, they went through the same procedure as the day before, signing in, handing over their weapons, putting on ID necklaces, speaking briefly with the warden (at least he didn't have Bowen's temper, though his careful choice of words made it clear that after yesterday's incident they were walking on thin ice), being led to a section of the prison separate from the one Mitch was being kept in. Devetko was a little more talkative now, though with the guard only; Kristeva listened in, since the questions were ones he would have been asking himself if given the chance.
"Barnes has the stiffer sentence," the guard was explaining in response to a question about where Jenner was being kept, "but Jenner's considered a more high-profile inmate, due to the fact that he ordered the crimes committed and was formerly involved in law enforcement. Cops aren't popular in prison, I think you already know."
"He needs protection?"
"Well...that was what we all assumed would happen, but so far, nobody's picked any fights with him. It's kinda weird. Everybody gives him a wide berth. I dunno, I figure it's just a matter of time, since he has the rest of his life to live out here--I seriously doubt he'll ever get paroled--but nope, we haven't had any incidents involving him just yet. He keeps to himself, other people keep away from him." He waved at the air. "Not saying he's some sort of recluse or anything, though--he's nice and chatty enough when any of us talk to him."
"What's he been up to since being sent here?"
"Oh...reading, mostly. Don't know if it's out of boredom or if he's educating himself, sometimes our inmates like to do that sort of thing. Writes sometimes, don't know what, though, since he doesn't send many letters, just a few to his kid so far, and nobody's ever sent any back. Keeps in shape, but doesn't make a big deal out of being an exercise freak. Does the work he's given. A model prisoner."
"Really," Kristeva said, raising an eyebrow.
The guard glanced back at him, then ahead again. "Well, like I said...we haven't had any reports or complaints about him just yet. I know the guy is practically a killer but you really can't tell it from looking at him or talking to him. Never complains, never mouths off, never causes trouble. Super friendly. My guys talk with him once in a while just for the hell of it and they say he's pretty smart and funny. The warden always gets pissed when he hears about it, though, and tells us to back off and not get too chummy with him. I get where he's coming from, there's definitely something off about the guy, I wouldn't trust him with a pack of cotton balls, much less a broom or a gun. But my guys don't really see it, I guess. If I didn't constantly ride their asses about it he'd probably have them wrapped around his finger. 'Charming,' I think that's the word I heard one of them use, you'd think they had a crush on him or something."
"Sociopath," Devetko and Kristeva both said at once, looked at each other, then looked ahead again.
The guard glanced back a second time, then his mouth twitched and he snorted lightly and turned away. "Funny...that's the exact same thing the warden said." He slowed down outside a room similar to the one from yesterday and unlocked the door, gesturing them inside. "Everything's being recorded," he said, pointing at the camera. "Warden says to watch what you say, since Jenner's like a sponge and picks up on every little thing, there's no way you'll get something past him. Oh, and speaking of..." He leaned back into the room, as he'd been on his way out. "Because of yesterday...he already knows you're here." He gave a "What-can-you-do" shrug and shut the door.
"So much for the element of surprise," Kristeva murmured, unwrapping and putting a sucker in his mouth and sitting down beside Devetko, who was already looking through the papers they'd brought. "And so, we're in agreement over what sort of person we're dealing with--any ideas how to approach this?"
"You heard the guy, obviously BS'ing him isn't going to work the way it did with Mitch. I doubt trying to scare him will accomplish much, either, considering what he's in here for."
"True." Kristeva bobbed the sucker stick from side to side and stared up toward the ceiling. "I've dealt with all sorts but not quite with this sort." He held his fist toward Devetko. "Normal Cop, Other Normal Cop. Because like the guy said, probably can't get anything past him."
Devetko shoved Kristeva's fist away without looking up. The door rattled and they both glanced toward it; two guards entered this time, one of them the one they'd just been talking with (Kristeva had to wonder if he'd been specifically selected for this job, based on his comments earlier), escorting an inmate between them. Again Kristeva recognized him from his photo, though it was the police photo and not the mugshot he had in mind; obviously, Jenner was no longer in uniform, instead in the same orange outfit Mitch had been wearing, but aside from that he looked the same, not thinner, not warier, not more fatigued or beaten down. He looked from one of them to the other just as Mitch had done, but there was no suspicion or hostility in his eyes, just what looked like mild curiosity. His hands were cuffed in front and his legs shackled even though he wasn't putting up any fight; one of the guards pulled the chair out and he sat down without needing to be nudged like Mitch had, resting his cuffed hands on the tabletop as if to keep them in sight. The guard bent toward them with a key--"Leave 'em," the first guard snapped, and he retreated from the room, looking somewhat chastened. The remaining guard glanced at the detectives.
"Am I gonna be needed...?"
"We'll call you," Kristeva said, since Devetko didn't respond, and the guard bobbed his head once and left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Jenner lifted his hands to show the cuffs when Kristeva turned back to him. "Apparently they still consider me a flight risk," he said, as if apologizing, "though I couldn't say that I blame them."
Kristeva raised an eyebrow. "Are you?"
Jenner tilted his head a little and gave a half-smile that indicated the question was a ridiculous one. "This place isn't nearly so horrific, despite what you might have heard. Regular meals, a roof over your head, a daily routine. The irony is a lot of the people here would kill for something like that, and a few of them probably did." He put his hands back on the table. "So...you've come here from Minot. It's been a while since I've talked with Kinnie, so I hope he's doing well."
"Considering that you shot him...?"
"It wasn't anything personal, and I'm pretty sure he knows that. But I heard he's not the one who sent you here, even if he's the one who signed the forms."
From the corner of his eye, Kristeva noticed the slight frown that flickered across Devetko's face as he continued browsing--pretending to browse?--through the papers. He pulled out a pen and jotted something in the margin as if taking a note for later, but Kristeva was just barely able to read it from this angle--There's no way he learned that from us. His eyes shifted back to Jenner's and Jenner merely smiled, so he smiled in return.
"Nice grapevine you have here."
"Not nice enough that I caught your names, I'm afraid."
"Max Kristeva, Chance Devetko."
"Oh...Missing Persons, that's right." He looked toward Devetko. "You must be new then, since I don't remember seeing you at that press conference." When Devetko said nothing, he turned back to Kristeva and raised his own eyebrows. "I assume he'll be taking the warden's warnings to heart, then."
"Don't worry, I can talk for both of us. I doubt you'd get along much anyway, Dev's pretty bitchy about smalltalk."
For a split second it looked like stormclouds passed over the other detective's face but then they were gone. It must have been enough, though--Jenner folded his hands and leaned forward as if taking Kristeva into confidence. "I don't think he likes it when you call him bitchy."
Kristeva folded his own hands, leaning forward and dropping his voice as well. "I'm pretty sure he doesn't, but that's just something he'll have to live with."
Jenner stared at him for a brief moment, then slowly sat back, keeping his arms stretched out in front of him, a vaguely amused look on his face. "Hm...interesting."
Kristeva cocked his head. "What is?"
The amused look grew a bit weary, as if Jenner were growing bored of the conversation already. "You're trying to establish a rapport," he said; then, in response to Kristeva's blank look, "Mimicking body language and tone of voice...speaking like a conspirator, expressing empathy." He removed his hands from the table but kept them folded on his abdomen and in plain sight. "Don't get me wrong...it's interesting, and nobody's tried it yet. But it's predictable. I honestly figured you to be a less obvious sort."
The two of them stared at each other in silence for a moment; even Devetko lifted his head to peer at them. "Less obvious like what?" Kristeva finally asked.
The subtlest shift came to Jenner's expression; he'd found the question interesting. "Like Kinnie," he said.
The silence resumed and drew out for another moment or two. "All right," Kristeva said, and pulled the folder away from Devetko, though he kept his hand atop it. "Before we talk, though, a question I think I already know the answer to. What would you say it is about Kincaid that makes him 'less obvious'...?"
"You said you think you already know the answer, what would it be?"
"My answer is I'm usually good at getting a read on people, but I can't get a read on him. Other people are open books. He's a closed one."
Jenner's face lit up and he leaned forward again, always keeping his hands in sight. "There--you get it, then. People are obvious. It gets dull after a while. Like watching reruns all day long. Especially when you're a cop and you just deal with the same people day in and day out. Different faces...but everything else is the same." He had to lift both hands to rest his head on one. "Kinnie, he was the one exception. And not even because he tried to be, it's like it just came naturally. I find that interesting. A brand-new episode every day with him. So, now you see why me shooting him was nothing personal. If we weren't on opposite sides of the bars, and if I were into such a thing, I like to think we could be pretty decent friends. Acquaintances, at least." He displayed his cuffs. "Unfortunately, circumstances got in the way."
"We were told Kinnie would come to talk with you every so often."
"Yes, and I have to admit, I was surprised the first time he showed up. As not-personal as it was, I really wouldn't expect somebody whom one has shot to come pay them a visit. That's when I knew I hadn't misjudged him. He's genuine. A stupid thing like a gunshot wound, he wouldn't let that get in the way of getting what he wants." He drummed his fingers on the table and briefly looked Kristeva up and down. "I get the feeling you're sort of similar...though nowhere near as skilled at not taking it personally. No offense intended, of course."
"You have any idea why it was that he would come to visit?"
"I'm assuming for much the same reason you're here right now. He thought he saw something bigger behind everything, and wondered if I had anything to share."
"Well...do you?"
The amused tilted-head look again. "Talking too much isn't usually rewarded here, Detectives."
"You're looking for some sort of deal?" Devetko asked.
Jenner made a face and let out a small sputtering sound. "I was just starting to find the conversation interesting again, too. You really think I'm going to sit here and try to hash out some kind of deal...? Don't you think it would've been smarter to try that before I came here?"
"So you're afraid your life would be in danger if you talked about it too much," Kristeva said before Devetko could reply.
Jenner pursed his lips a little. "'Afraid' is a strong word...more like 'concerned,' is all. I'm sure Jeffries told you all about it." He noticed their blank looks and raised an eyebrow. "Jeffries. The friendly neighborhood guard who let you in here...? Kind of telling that you didn't even get his name." Devetko flushed a bit and jotted something down in a notepad he'd pulled out but Kristeva didn't bother looking at it, sensing it wasn't intended for him anyway. "Anyway...I'm sure he told you about how they assigned protection to me when I first came in here, and even considered putting me in solitary confinement for a period of time. Turns out such measures haven't been necessary, but then again, that's probably because I know my place. I'm not that interested in messing with the status quo now."
"Yet you talked with Kinnie," Kristeva said.
"True...though not nearly as much as I'm thinking he wanted me to. Probably why I haven't heard from him in a while." He let out a sigh and leaned back in the chair, an oddly wistful look crossing his face. "I enjoyed our talks, too. Something to relieve the tedium. Make sure you let him know I said that, will you?"
"I imagine you must've shared enough information to keep him coming back for a while, at least. And enough for him to think our trip here might be worthwhile."
"Don't bother trying to fudge your way through this, Detective, like I said, I already know he didn't send you here."
"True, but like you said, he did sign the forms."
Devetko peered at him from the corner of his eye, and Kristeva could tell that he'd assumed Jenner's earlier comment had been a bluff, and Kristeva had just shown their hand. Jenner's smile told him this much was accurate, but it seemed like a tiny enough loss. "Let me guess," Jenner said. "Chief Bowen wasn't interested in giving any such permission, am I right? As I seem to recall it, he wasn't too thrilled with Kinnie's visits."
"I didn't bother asking him. Now it's like I said...you were in a sharing enough mood with Kinnie...so you can't be too 'concerned' for your personal wellbeing."
"Even if I weren't, there's still the status quo to maintain." He lifted his hands and gestured slightly toward the camera. "'Snitches get stitches,' isn't that the asinine phrase people use...? And that goes double for cops...even ex ones."
"How about this. We can do the talking and the sharing, and you can let us know how hot or cold we are. At this point in time, you won't even be telling us anything we don't already know."
"That doesn't sound particularly helpful for you, but I suppose it couldn't hurt." Jenner stretched his arms and the cuffs rattled. "But like I said, I'm limited in what I can provide for you. I have a life sentence to spend in here, and I plan on keeping it as comfortable and drama free as possible."
Kristeva shut the folder and slid it toward him. When it was only halfway across the table, however, Devetko's hand slapped down beside his and halted its progress. Kristeva looked up at him, his furrowed brow silently asking what he was doing.
"He's a sponge," Devetko said under his breath, even though Jenner could obviously hear them; the inmate tilted his head a little, eyes shifting curiously from one to the other. "You think it's smart to hand this all over?"
"There's probably nothing in here he hasn't seen before," Kristeva half-whispered back.
"You're willing to make that bet? You were wrong just a minute ago."
Kristeva just stared back at him, but Devetko held his gaze. Jenner continued looking at both of them as they stared each other down, his expression vaguely perplexed.
"Is this some sort of Good Cop, Bad Cop? Because I have to admit, it's pretty convincing..."
Kristeva pressed his fingers harder against the folder and pulled. It slipped out from under Devetko's hand, but only with some resistance; once it was free, Devetko pulled his own hand back, relinquishing the folder, but the black look in his eyes made his feelings plain. Kristeva could imagine that his own eyes looked pretty much the same as he turned again to Jenner, who made a whistling noise between his teeth.
"Oooh...not Good Cop, Bad Cop." He glanced down when Kristeva shoved the folder toward him, but didn't immediately reach for it. Instead he peered toward Devetko--who sat back in his chair, crossing his arms and looking in the general direction of the door as if excusing himself from the interview--then back at Kristeva, his own brow furrowing.
"You sure you want me to have this...?" When Kristeva just thumped his fingers on the folder, Jenner finally pulled it toward himself and flipped it open, albeit only after a slight pause. He looked once more at the two detectives before turning his attention back to the papers.
"Good luck finding a new partner...because after today I really don't think you two are going to last very long."
Neither of them said anything. Jenner started turning pages, merely glancing over the first few, before his expression started to grow bored again. "I hate to tell you this, considering you came all this way...but this really isn't anything new to me. And if both of us have the same information, how is that going to help you any...?" He trailed off, then a slight frown came to his face and he leaned a little closer to the folder. He turned a page, then picked up that section of the file and went through it more slowly. As he flipped one of the stapled pages over the back, Kristeva recognized Singer's censored missing person report.
"Anything familiar?" he said.
"Actually, yes. I've heard of this case. In passing. Didn't know the person's name until now."
"Heard of it in your line of work, or elsewhere...?"
Jenner just made a clucking noise at him and finished with that set of papers, setting it aside. "That would be this person, then--yes?" he said, putting his finger on Singer's family photo. This time Kristeva refused to answer, so he set that aside as well and picked up the next sheaf* of papers.
"A witness testified at Mitchell Barnes's trial," Kristeva said as he started looking through it. "Mandie Armstead. Based on what I've heard, the two of you were pretty well acquainted."
Jenner's mouth twitched. "Mandie had a pretty active imagination. That's the only place we were well acquainted."
"She mentioned being present in the background at a police raid led by Sgt. Mark Kincaid in 198*. I'm guessing you've heard of him."
Jenner's response this time was to form a gun with his hand and place his finger in his mouth. He removed it and turned a page. "Sorry, I know that's crass. But you'd have to be pretty stupid or ignorant to work at the Minot Police Department for any length of time and not have heard of Mark Kincaid. Do they still have that picture of him on the wall?"
"Mandie said she witnessed an 'Alan Doe' being rescued from the site. I'm guessing you're around the same age she is. There was quite a crowd at that raid, were you any part of it?"
"I can't say that I was, sorry. Seems like it would've been interesting." He reached the end of the report and glanced down at the next item. As he flipped the front page aside, Kristeva glimpsed the words SGT. MARK KINCAID, and FOLLOWUP.
He blinked, and it was as if all the air went out of the room, sucking his lungs inside-out. He didn't move from his seat, but Jenner and Devetko both seemed to move yards away from him at the same time, like the room was expanding, growing massive and cavernous around him--the flipping sound of the pages went muffled until all he could hear was a ringing in his ears, and all the color seemed to vanish as well, everything taking on a weird grainy hue like bad film. Only peripherally did he notice Devetko turn his head a little to look at him seemingly from miles away, but Kristeva no longer cared about that, and his voice wasn't working. He couldn't stop staring at the pages Jenner was now looking at. It was a photocopy of Sgt. Kincaid's sealed report--the same report he'd returned to Buchanan's apartment after merely considering copying it for future reference. Except he hadn't copied it. Yet here was a copy.
For a brief moment he pondered the possibility that he was dreaming--something about this case had been giving him some weird dreams lately--but the ringing in his ears, and the nagging jab of pain starting behind his eye, seemed real enough. Nothing else changed or shifted in the way that dreams usually did, and when Jenner opened his mouth and spoke, the cottony silence shattered, and the grainy film-look instantly dissipated, and suddenly the lights were glaring bright and the room was smaller again and his voice rang off the walls like a ricochet.
"I have to admit...this stuff is new to me."
He slid the paper closer to himself, and under it Kristeva saw a similar photocopy of the sealed Singer report. His hand moved without him even telling it to--it clapped down atop the paper Jenner was holding, palm banging against the table. Jenner and Devetko both jumped at the unexpected reaction. Jenner lifted his hands as if in surrender, letting him pull the folder back toward himself without any protest; he lifted his head to give the detective a perplexed look, then blinked himself, eyes widening a little. Kristeva spoke, although doing so made the pain behind his eye jab all the sharper, and his voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere else, not his own mouth.
"You're familiar with the raid--you know about Mark and we're fucking sure you know about Kinnie. We're through playing around. We want to know what it is that's so 'new' to you."
"Only the details," Jenner said without any hesitation, as if sensing that holding out might not be the best idea. He kept his hands raised to the level of his chest. "It's common knowledge in the MPD and even at the Falcon's Nest that Kinnie had a strange start. What that start is, I couldn't tell you even if I wished to. Think what you might, but I'm just a cog in the machine, and most things aren't meant for me to know." He lowered his hands slightly once he seemed to realize Kristeva wasn't going to attack him. "This though, it makes a few things clearer. But nothing that's very surprising. To be honest I'm rather surprised you bothered coming here to talk with me, since it looks like you did all the work yourself."
"'All the work'?" Kristeva slapped the folder shut and stood, leaning over the table. "There are holes here you can drive a big rig through. And endless hoops to jump through just to get this far. Tell us how that's all the work."
Jenner furrowed his brow and offered a shrug. "You're the one holding a report I never saw in all the time I worked in the MPD. And I won't bullshit you, in my secondary line of work I made a point to keep myself informed, and that included looking up Kinnie's case. I saw the one in the MPD files--this wasn't it. You can be as skeptical as you want, but it looks like you're doing just fine without my help. What exactly was it you wanted to hear from me?"
"'Something bigger behind everything,'" Kristeva said; then, when Jenner merely frowned, "What you yourself said earlier. Don't tell us you forgot it already. You said Kinnie thought he saw it, and you said we thought we saw it. It's difficult to believe you shot Kinnie just for the sake of shooting Kinnie. 'Secondary line of work,' you just said. 'A cog in the machine.' There's more to this than killing some random woman or some random cop going missing or whatever. We already know there are connections. You don't even have to prove it. The question is, did you know? When you were in that so-called secondary line of work?"
Silence. Jenner stared at him for a few moments, his expression unreadable, though he seemed just the slightest bit amused; finally he lifted his hands and splayed his fingers in a radiating circular pattern, as if mimicking the image of a star exploding.
"Spiderwebs," he said, simply.
Another, briefer silence; it rang in Kristeva's ears. "How big?" he asked.
Jenner smiled and sat back in his chair. "I wouldn't even bother with a broom," he said. "You might want to call the Orkin Man." He paused, then made a slight face and touched the side of his nose. "You also might want to get that checked out."
Kristeva mimicked the gesture, then looked down at the tabletop. A few drops of red pattered against the surface. Devetko stood and fished in his pocket, then reached around and pressed a handkerchief to Kristeva's nose; Kristeva took it from him without a word and pinched his nostrils shut, breathing through his mouth. The two of them stood awkwardly like this for a moment before Kristeva took a step back, and Devetko picked up the folder. Jenner pushed his own chair back from the table a little bit.
"And I'm afraid that's really all I can share with you at the moment," he said, "though if time permits, you're welcome to come see me again in the future. That file looks pretty interesting...the one along with it, too. Hate to think what endless hoops you jumped through to gain access to stuff even most people working in the MPD aren't aware of." He pursed his lips. "I have two more educated guesses for you. Chief Bowen is one of the knowing parties. And I'm willing to bet both he and Sgt. Kincaid played a pretty decent role in keeping all of this quiet all these years." A sad look that was obviously feigned. "Granted, Mark hasn't been around to help out with that in quite a while...but I doubt Kinnie will follow in his footsteps. Since I enjoyed Kinnie's talks so much, here's a freebie." He stretched his cuffed arms. "Not following in his dad's footsteps is a very big part of the reason I did what I had to do...like I said, it was never anything personal."
He stood up but didn't move away from his chair, instead glancing toward the door. It opened almost immediately and Jeffries and the other guard entered. Jeffries glanced at Kristeva and Devetko and frowned.
"Everything okay here--?"
"Too much dry air," Devetko said, which was just as well, since Kristeva still couldn't seem to find his voice; he winced at how badly the pain throbbed behind his eye, and the light in the room was way too bright.
"Got everything you needed, then? He didn't cause you any trouble?"
"It looks like it. And no, he was no trouble. Tell the warden thank you for the interview, and sorry that we caused such a stir yesterday."
"Yeah, well...Mitch was about due for some alone time, anyway." As soon as he said it, Jeffries made a face and peered at Jenner--another showing of their hand--but Jenner said nothing, and it looked as if this hadn't really been news to him after all. "Martin'll take you guys back to get your sidearms and such."
He put his hand on Jenner's elbow and escorted him from the room. Jenner halted in the doorway, something which seemed to catch the guard by surprise since he nearly stumbled; he turned halfway to look back at the other two.
"Please remember what I said, and maybe take a lesson from Kinnie. Try not to take it all so personally. You'll drive yourself nuts if you do." He turned before Jeffries could prompt him to, and they disappeared into the hallway outside.
Martin led the detectives back to the sign-in area, where they retrieved their guns, turned in their ID necklaces, and signed themselves out; the entire tedious process was barely a blur to Kristeva, who kept focusing on the image of the report copies tucked in the folder. Devetko was carrying this now, so he couldn't look at it to see if they were still there or if he'd merely imagined the entire scene; he had no idea why he would assume it was imaginary, except for the fact that it made no sense, otherwise. On the walk out of the prison building back to the car, the rain still pouring as hard as ever and making a loud drumming sound on Devetko's umbrella, he went over that morning at the station over and over again, when he'd glanced at the copying machine and had then gone straight to Buchanan's apartment building--at no point had he gone to the machine. Even a slip of the memory couldn't account for it, since that machine was old and clunky like the rest of the computers in the building, and with how many pages needed to be copied, he would have been there for a good long while. His trip to Buchanan's and back to the police station had taken perhaps fifteen to twenty minutes at most. It would have taken him even longer just to make the copies.
"I did warn you," Devetko said, snapping him out of this thought.
Kristeva blinked, and the foggy landscape around him clarified again into individual raindrops spattering against the asphalt and the hood of the car before them. "Those reports weren't in that folder," he said.
Devetko frowned at him. "Were we looking at the same folder--? Because those reports were very much in it, and still are. I tried telling you."
Kristeva halted and his foot splashed into a puddle but he didn't notice it. His fingernails dug into his palms. "I didn't put those reports in that folder," he snapped. "They were sealed, and I didn't even copy them. The only copies exist at the courthouse."
"These are the sealed records--?" Devetko held the folder aloft, disbelief on his face. "And you just handed them over to an inmate involved in the case?"
"I told you I'm not the one who copied them or put them in there!"
"As far as I know, you're the only one who had access to those records! You have any other ideas who might be involved--?"
Kristeva ground his teeth together and, grabbing the keys from Devetko, stormed toward the car, yanking open the driver's side door even though he suspected he wasn't in the right frame of mind to drive--but the thought of sitting and doing nothing for the next couple of hours was too much. "Buchanan," he retorted, climbing in and reaching for the ignition.
"Who the hell is Buchanan--?" he had enough time to hear Devetko exclaim before the car's engine roared, the sound seeming to split through his head. As he put the car in reverse he dimly sensed the passenger-side door opening and slamming; Devetko gave him a look that was half-glare, half-question as he buckled himself in.
"Mind telling me who this Buchanan is before you run us off the road--?"
"One of the endless hoops," Kristeva muttered, and stomped on the gas.
No comments:
Post a Comment