“That’s convenient,” she said.

“Coincidence,” I told her.

“When did you sell it?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” she repeated. “You’ve had that car for years. You sold it days after Ezra’s body was found, the day before I execute a search warrant, and you want me to believe that it’s coincidence?” I shrugged. “Why did you sell the car? For the record.” Her threat was more than implied.

I gave her a reckless smile. “Because someone told me to stop being a pussy.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Work. I’m warning you.”

“You’re in my house! You’re in my office! Warn me all you want. For the record, I sold the car because I felt like it, because it didn’t fit anymore; something you’d never understand. But if you want to waste your time, you can find it on that car lot west of town, the one on Highway One-fifty. Help yourself.”

She was pissed. With the car out of my control, its evidentiary value would plummet. I knew that it didn’t matter-the car had nothing to do with Ezra’s death-but she didn’t know that, and for an instant I enjoyed her loss of composure. As victories went, it was cheap, but I’d take it.

“I want the truck, too,” Mills said, gesturing at the old truck, which looked shrunken beneath the towering house. At the moment, it was all I had left.

“Is it in the warrant?”

Hesitation. “No,” she finally said.

I gave an ugly laugh. “Are you asking for my consent?”

Mills eyed me. “You’re burning up any goodwill that might be left. You know that.”

“Oh. We’ve crossed that bridge. You want my truck, you get another warrant.”

“I will.”

“Fine. Until then, no way.”

Our eyes locked, she swelled with bottled emotion, and I knew that this went way beyond professional. She hated me. She wanted me locked up, and I wondered if it was like this in every case. Or was there something about me or about this case? Something personal?

“Are you almost done in there?” I asked her, gesturing at the house.

She showed her teeth. They were small and white, except for one in the front, which was slightly yellow. “Not even close,” she said, and I realized that she was enjoying herself. “You’re welcome to come in and watch. It’s your right.”

My control slipped. “What is your problem with me, Detective Mills?”

“It’s nothing personal,” she said. “I’ve got a dead man, a missing gun, and a man with fifteen million reasons to lie to me about where he was the night in question. It’s enough for me and it was enough for the warrant. If I had more, I’d arrest you. That’s how sure I am. If that means I’ve got a problem with you, then yeah, I do. So come inside, stay out here, whatever. I’m just getting warmed up.” She turned away and just as quickly turned back, her finger up like an erection. “But know this. I’m getting that car. And if it turns out that you lied to me about its location, then I’m going to have another problem with you.”

I stepped closer, my voice rising to match hers. “Fine. Do your job. But I’ve made a career out of shredding search warrants. Not just how they’re drawn but how they’re executed. Be careful how you use it. Your case already has one big hole in it.”

I was referring to my presence at the crime scene, and I saw my comment hit the mark. I knew what she was thinking. Any physical evidence linking me to the crime scene could have been carried in the day they found the body, not the day Ezra was killed. Any defense attorney worth his law license could use that to hang a jury. Mills had reason to worry. We’d squared off in court many times, and she knew that I could work the angles. If she screwed up with this warrant, the judge could throw the case out before it got to trial. Hell, she might not even get an indictment. Watching her mouth work, I felt some small satisfaction. Yes, I had to protect Jean, but nothing said I had to make this easy for Mills, Douglas, or anybody else. It was a thin line.

“I’m going in back to get my dog,” I told her. “Unless you want to search him, too.” She said nothing, just tightened her jaw. “And when this is said and done, I’ll expect your apology.” It was a bluff-no way would this end well for me.

“We’ll see,” she said, then turned and stalked away.

“Lock up when you’re done,” I called after her, but it was an empty gesture. I’d landed a couple of punches, but she’d won the fight, and she knew it. At the door, she turned and looked back. She gave me the same cold yellow-toothed smile, and then she went inside.

CHAPTER 18

I escaped into my truck and drove. I passed cars, stopped at signs, and turned from one street to another, but there was nowhere to go; all choices led back to the same life. It was a bad time, one of ugly questions and despicable truths. So I returned to the park, full of children, old men, and scattered windblown litter. Mills was still at my house. I parked at the curb and watched the police move in and out, tracking suspicion and indifference. It angered me, but it was a toothless rage. In this, I was helpless, and my fingers tightened on the wheel as if it were Mills’s neck. When my cell phone rang, the noise jarred me; it took time to find the phone and bring myself to answer it.

“Hello.”

“Hey, Work. How you doin’?”

It took a second to place the voice. “Hank?”

“Who else?” He sounded strained. Was it just the day before that I’d met him in Charlotte? It felt like a week. I tried to focus. “Sorry. What’s up?”

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” I paused, knowing that I was being short with him. Knowing also that I sounded far from okay. “Talk to me.” I rubbed at my eyes.

“I called your office,” he said. “A cop answered. He asked for my name.” He hesitated, offering me the chance to say something, but I remained silent. What could I say? I almost laughed. “Then I called your house. Guess what?”

“I know. I’m in my car right now, watching the cops run in and out like it’s on the parade of homes.”

“I don’t know what to say about this.”

“Don’t say anything, then.”

“It’s awkward, Work. It puts me in a bad position.” He paused. “I take it they have a warrant?”

“I think they’re hoping to find the murder weapon,” I said. “Or anything else to incriminate me.” I knew what he was thinking. They’d have needed probable cause to get the warrant. That meant they had something on me.

“Any real chance of an indictment?” he asked.

“Very likely,” I said.

Hank went silent. Considering the news, I didn’t blame him. We were acquaintances and drinking buddies, but not friends in any real sense. I could almost see the math. He relied on defense lawyers for most of his work, but no one in his position could afford to alienate the police. “That serious?” he finally asked. I knew the last thing he wanted was to get involved.

“Could be. The lead investigator’s got it in for me. You’ll probably read about it in tomorrow’s paper.”

“Mills?” he asked, not needing a response. I guessed he was playing for time, trying to decide how he felt about all this. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

His hesitation was clear. Getting involved in this could do him nothing but harm. It was to his credit that he’d even asked, but I knew what answer he wanted.

“Not now, Hank. But I appreciate it.”

“Hey. Your dad was an ass, but I don’t believe you murdered him.”

“Well, thanks for that. It means something, Hank. Not many people are saying it right now.”

His tone warmed. “Don’t let them rattle you, Work. You’ve seen all this before. You know how it works.”

You know how it works. Douglas had used the same words.

I decided to change the subject. “So what’s up, man? Any chance of good news?”

Hank was no fool. He understood. I needed to move this conversation forward, onto neutral ground. “I went to Charter Hills this morning,” he said. “I spent a couple hours poking around.”