The 6:20 Man(24)

“Like I said, they were part of my unit. I made sure I was informed.”

“What happened to the guy who killed him?”

“He’s dead. Killed himself when Army CID started closing in. So his really was a suicide.”

And that, Devine knew, was a lie.

Hawkins is dead because I left him out there to die.

“And the wife?”

“No proof she knew anything about the plan to kill her husband. She’s remarried and doing fine,” added Devine, who didn’t look fine with this at all. “And why is Sara’s case now a homicide instead of a suicide?”

“For reasons very similar to what you just said,” replied Hancock.

“So the killer was sloppy,” observed Devine.

“And the killer is still out there. And it’s my job to find him.”

“Or her.”

“Would’ve taken some strength to string the woman up like that. Dead weight, no pun intended.”

“And what do you want from me?” asked Devine.

“Where were you between roughly midnight and four a.m. on the day she was found?”

“Is that the window on the time of death?” Devine asked.

“Roughly. AC was on high in the building so it screwed with the TOD a bit. They’re doing a more thorough calculation right now to get a tighter window, if they can.”

“Well, I was home in bed. At four o’clock I was just getting up and going to do my workout.”

“Anybody vouch for that?” asked Hancock.

“Probably one of my roommates. But the Cowl Building has cameras and a security guard on duty and you need a security card to get in after hours. You don’t have to play gumshoe peeking through keyholes, Detective.”

Hancock said jokingly, only clearly he wasn’t, “Oh, hey, thanks, man, I didn’t realize any of that shit. This sucker is basically solved.”

“I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job, okay?”

“Sure sounded like it to me. And you really work out at four a.m.?”

“Yeah, at the high school football field over there. Only time I’ve really got to do it.”

“Okay, and FYI, the guard makes rounds. He’s not in the lobby all the time.”

Yeah, that I know, thought Devine. “And the security card and cameras?”

“Killer could have stayed in the building all night.”

“You can do a head count on the video of people coming and going.”

“Too many people and too much confusion and bad camera angles to rule everybody out. And that includes you.”

“I came home the night before. My roommates can tell you that.” At least he hoped they could. “And to get back in the building, my security card would be needed. There’d be a record. And I’d be on film.”

“Like you were last night. Around eleven or so?”

“I forgot my phone. I went back for it. The guard saw me leave.”

“Yes, he did.”

“And?” said Devine.

“And nothing, unless you want to add to it.”

“I don’t.”

“You knew Sara Ewes?” asked Hancock.

“I already told you I did!”

“Don’t get all worked up, Devine. See, the thing is, I think you knew her better than you let on.”

Devine stopped walking again. “Based on what?”

“Did you?” asked Hancock.

“Depends on what you mean by ‘better than you let on.’ ”

“Were you dating her? Did you have sex with her?”

“Should I get a lawyer?” asked Devine.

“Do you think you need one?”

“This is America. Everybody needs a lawyer at some point.”

Hancock looked displeased by the response. “If you won’t answer the question, it makes me suspicious and it makes you look guilty.”

“Even if I was dating her or had sex with her, why would that be a motive for murder?”

“Oldest motive in the book. Spurned lover.”

“So now I’m a spurned lover? You should write novels.”

“Were you one?” asked Hancock. “A spurned lover?”

“I think we’re done here.”

“You know, the Army cops got the guy. We will, too.”

“I hope you find the person. Only it won’t be me, because I didn’t do it.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll just take your word for it. Cross you right off the suspect list.”

“You talk to any other suspects?” asked Devine.

“No need for you to know that.”

Devine turned around and walked home.

Tomorrow was Sunday, a day of rest. For God.

But not for Travis Devine. Tomorrow might just outdo everything else he’d done the entire week. Maybe his whole time at Cowl and Comely.

But then again, why wait until tomorrow? After all, the night was still young.





CHAPTER





18


THERE WAS THE RUSSIAN, WILL Valentine, on the couch, but this time he was awake. A brand-spanking-new pizza box was next to him and one of his Coors Light beers was unopened, but Devine doubted it would be for long. The Russian’s appetite for American junk food and beer was apparently insatiable.