Bones Never Lie (Temperance Brennan, #17)(69)
Ajax rotated the page and glanced down. “I drive a Hyundai.”
“Check the plate.”
He did. “The vehicle is mine. And legally registered.”
“We got a witness saw you shove Shelly Leal into that car.”
“That person is lying.”
“Some cold-blooded bastard killed both these kids.” In Donovan’s case, another lie.
Behind the lenses, the dark eyes narrowed a hair. “Surely you don’t suspect me.”
“Now, why would we do that?”
“I’ve told you. I never hurt anyone.”
“How’s that babysitter doing these days?”
“I have never shown physical violence toward any human being.”
“Where were you on April 17, 2009?”
Ajax’s chin hiked up, sending a slash of white across each lens, a double reflection of the overhead fixture. The slashes reversed course as his chin leveled. “I must check my agenda.”
“How ’bout November 21, 2014?”
“Should I engage an attorney?”
“Should you?”
Ajax sighed. “If you had proof of my involvement in these homicides, you’d be charging me with a crime. Since you are not, I assume I am free to go.”
“We’re trying to clear you here, Doc.”
The voice surprised me. Beau Tinker was also in the room.
“Your partner’s tone has suggested otherwise all afternoon.”
“Look, you’re a smart man. Given your past, you know we have to check you out. You get that, right? In order to exclude you.”
“You took me away from my work. I’ve answered your questions to the best of my ability.”
“Still, there are gaps.”
“I can provide more precise answers once I have access to charts and personal records.”
“You don’t remember treating Colleen Donovan?”
“No.”
“Or Shelly Leal.”
“No.”
“You recall no contact with either?”
“None. I’ve made that clear.”
“We want to get it straight.”
“I’ve agreed to be recorded.” Ajax looked straight into the camera, obviously familiar with police interview rooms. “You can refer back to your tape.”
A pause.
“You know a kid named Tia Estrada?” Slidell jumped back in.
“No.”
“Avery Koseluk?”
“No.”
“Lizzie Nance.”
Ajax sat silent and unmoving.
“That one ring a bell?”
“No.”
“How about Nellie Gower?”
“I know none of these persons.”
“Ever been to Vermont?”
“I have answered that in the negative.”
“Talk about Anique Pomerleau.”
“Who?”
Slidell lurched forward across the table, close to Ajax’s face. “Cut the crap, you worthless piece of shit.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Looking Slidell straight in the eye.
“Can you think of anyone at Mercy we should question?” Tinker again.
“I promise to give serious thought to that question.”
“Please do.”
“Yeah. Please do.” A chair scraped. The visible parts of Slidell jerked from view. “In the meantime, I need air what ain’t fouled.”
A door opened. Closed. Ajax sat still as a carving on Rushmore, eyes on the corner, where, I assumed, Tinker was standing.
“I have never physically hurt anyone. Not then. Not now.”
“I believe that’s true, Doc.” Tinker, good cop extraordinaire. “Listen. You need a soda?”
The twitch of a lip. A smile? “I will accept nothing to eat or drink.”
“Suit yourself.”
Our little gaggle divided. The detectives turned left, toward the violent crimes division. Barrow and I turned right, toward the conference room. Slidell was already there, standing by the table. His face looked drawn, his eyes puffy and red from lack of sleep.
“You get anything?” Barrow asked.
Slidell shook his head. “The guy’s a fox. Knows how to play his hand.”
“When did you start in on him?”
“Just past one.”
I may have made a sound. Or moved. Slidell’s eyes flicked to me. Before I could say anything, voices sounded in the hall, then Tinker joined us, followed by Salter.
“I wanted to go at him alone.” Directed to me but loud, for Tinker’s benefit. Maybe Salter’s.
“The whole interview, Ajax never changed his story?” Barrow had also missed the start of the show.
“Can’t remember treating Donovan or Leal. Didn’t know they were dead. Had nothing to do with killing ’em.”
“Leal’s been all over the news,” I said. “Ajax doesn’t read papers or watch TV?”
“Claims he’s too busy saving lives.”
“And no one at the hospital once mentioned Leal? Does that sound right?”
“The slimy—”
Salter truncated Slidell’s response. “Just what have you got on this guy?”