A tense silence hung in the room as Denson’s eyes bore into him and Morgan let the detective see the calm determination that told the local boy he meant every word.
“All right,” Denson said. He nodded behind him. “The chief’s office.”
“Lead the way.”
Denson took off quickly, Morgan and Lorenzon keeping up. A minute later, they were behind the closed door of an office.
“Where’s Chief Oliver?” Lorenzon asked.
“Family vacation,” Denson said. “He won’t be back for a week. Now, what the hell are you two doing, coming on my turf and threatening me?”
“I didn’t threaten you,” Morgan said coolly. “I was just providing you an option.”
“Fuck you, fed! You can’t come in here and bully me like I’m your dog and I just crapped on the rug. This is myhouse. We don’t want to join your goddamn task force, so you’re wasting your time coming back around trying to bully me into it.”
Morgan laughed, once. “That’s why you think we’re here?”
Denson’s face turned crimson as his hands balled into fists.
Lorenzon stood close to their host. “You better dial it down a notch or two, Jake, because my friend here will break your ass in public or private, doesn’t matter to him. And you definitely want to scale back the fuck-you rhetoric.”
Morgan, not really wanting a fight in either place, said in a businesslike way, “We’re here to talk to you about Bobby Edels.”
Denson’s face morphed from anger to confusion. “Who the hell is Bobby Edels?”
Is that genuine surprise?Morgan wondered. If it’s an act, it’s damn good.…
“Bobby Edels,” Lorenzon said, “is the kid who ended up dead in a barrel in Chinatown—I showed you that picture.”
“ That’shis name?” Denson asked. “You didn’t give me a name.”
“We didn’t have one at the time.”
Again, Morgan wondered if they were being put on. “He was identified this morning, Detective Denson.”
“Doesn’t mean diddly to me.”
“It should—you filed a complaint against him and the crew he worked with at Fix-It Mate.”
“What? This vic was on that worthless crew?”
“That’s right.”
“Hell, I didn’t know any of those guys,” Denson said, with a dismissive wave. “Did it say I singled out this Edel or Edsel or whatever? ’Cause I don’t think I did. I remember complaining about the entire crew, because they did a lousy-ass job and left a humongous mess behind.”
Morgan studied the man. “That’s all it was? Just some bad craftsmanship?”
“Hey, come home with me now, if you don’t believe me,” Denson said, his voice rising as his agitation grew again. “Look at my damn garage and make up your own mind about the ‘craftsmanship.’ ”
Looking to keep his quarry off balance, Morgan asked, “Aren’t you investigating the murders of Donna Cooper and Casey Goddard?”
“What of it?”
“I was just curious—did you know either of them before they were murdered?”
“Yeah,” Denson said. “I knew them both—they worked at the convenience store up around the corner. It’s a small town, in case you didn’t notice. That’s why I’m working so hard to catch the bastard that did this. What are you getting at?”
Morgan held Denson’s eyes. “There have been five bodies in this case and you’ve got ties to three of them.”
“Wait a minute,” Denson said, his eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute.… You’re not trying to muscle us into joining your damned task force? You’re here because you think I’m a suspect?”
“You’re a detective,” Morgan said. “Look at the facts—what would you think? Person of interest, certainly.”
Denson pointed at the door like a father banishing a wayward daughter in an old-time melodrama. “I think you need to get the hell out! And I’m not going to talk to you again without a lawyer present.”
Morgan and Lorenzon didn’t move.
“You think I’m bullshitting you?” Denson demanded, eyes and nostrils flaring. “Get the hell out of here! You’re not dragging me into your shit.”
They surely didn’t have enough to bring Denson in, so—having no choice—they left before the confrontation degenerated any further.
As they pulled away slowly from the PD, Morgan thought he could feel Denson’s eyes on him through the chief’s window, but he did not turn to look. He kept his focus on the windshield, looking for the convenience store Denson had mentioned.
He asked the Chicago detective, “What’s your gut telling you?”
Lorenzon stopped at a red light. “My gut believes him, and so do I. I think it’s a coincidence.”
“You have any idea, bro, how many serial killers have tried to join law enforcement over the years? The mental test can’t screen them all out.”
“I hear you,” Lorenzon admitted. “But I just don’t think anybody’s thatgood an actor.”
“I’ll give you that,” Morgan said. “But we’ll see.”
They traded a look.
“Do me a favor,” Morgan said. “Take a right and stop at that convenience store on the next corner. I want to get something to drink.”
Lorenzon shook his head. “Your boss is going to kick your ass, and I’m going to get mine fired.”
After a chuckle, Morgan said, “Is that all? Tate, I want a damn Coke. Is that against the law in Chicago?”
“We’re not in Chicago. We’re in Wauconda.”
“Do they sell Cokes at convenience stores in Wauconda?”
Lorenzon shook his head. “Damn. This is about as bad as when you wanted us to steal that car when we were kids.”
“Hey, we never did that.”
“ ’Cause you got scared.”
“Bull,” Morgan said. “I got smart. We rolled up on that heap and I just got this flash we’d get caught and go to jail and then to prison and—”
Interrupting, Lorenzon said, “Funny, I just had that flash now.”
He turned the car to the left, away from the convenience store. “You can get a damn Coke when we get to the expressway.”
Morgan patted his friend’s arm. “Yeah, I’ll settle for that. Right before we get on the expressway. I’m buying.”
“You’re all heart, bro. Gonna buy me dinner too?”
“I might at that.” Morgan took his phone off his belt and punched the speed dial and got an answer after only one ring. “Mom, how are you?”
“Derek! Fine, fine—you’re in town?”
“Sure am. You and the girls free for dinner?”
“We can be, if you’re coming by. I can cook us something, real quick, and—”
“No sale, Mom! Home-cooking another night. We’re going out. Tate’s driving, and we’ll be by to pick you up in…”
He glanced at Lorenzon who mouthed, “An hour or so.”
“…an hour or so,” Morgan said. “Can you call the girls?”
“I’ll take care of it,” his mother said. “It’ll be good to see Tate! He’s been way too long a stranger.”
“An hour then. Love you, Mom!”
He ended the call.
“That woman loves me like I was her own, you know,” Lorenzon said. “Always treated me like family.”
Morgan chuckled. “Much as you were eatin’ our food, maybe she thought you werefamily.”
“Ain’t my fault she kept inviting me to stay for dinner.”
She had done that many a night because Tate’s mother wasn’t always home. Both Morgan’s mom and Tate’s were single parents working hard to make a better life, but Mrs. Lorenzon worked a lot more nights than days and Tate had done more than his fair share of homework at Morgan’s. They had also found lots of ways to get in trouble together.
Glancing at his old friend, Morgan decided they had both turned out pretty well. They could easily have wound up going down the wrong path, but thanks to their mothers—and each other—they had stayed true to the way they’d been raised.
Morgan knew that very likely their UnSub’s family life had been far worse than either his or Tate’s. People who mistreated their kids raised people who mistreated others—sometimes such people took their rage out as verbal and even physical abuse on their own families; but sometimes that rage became something even more monstrous and reached out into the world, to make the world suffer, too.…