The Night Shift(17)

“I have no idea where Vince is,” Rusty says, before they ask. “Haven’t seen or talked to that worthless piece of shit in fifteen years.”

“You’ve had no contact with him?” Keller asks.

“Nope. And I hope I never do. He’s dead to me.”

“Father of the year,” Keller says with a hard smile.

“Kids,” he says in disgust. “You’ll see.” He aims his chin at Keller’s belly.

She restrains the urge to punch him in his teeth.

Atticus must sense her strange wave of rage, and jumps in. “Look, we don’t want to create any problems for you. Just answer our questions and you can get back to your lunch.”

A friendly threat that if Rusty doesn’t talk they’ll create problems for him. Both the message and delivery are well-done.

Rusty shrugs for Atticus to continue.

“When’s the last time you saw Vince?”

Rusty gives him a tired stare. “I just told you. The night he got sprung. I was surprised he was home.”

“Did you talk with him?”

“I’ve been through this a hundred times, and—”

“Did you speak with him?” Atticus asks, more sternly this time.

“We had words, yeah. I told him I wanted him out. Said I was goin’ to the bar and he’d better be gone when I got home.”

“What time was that?”

Rusty shrugs.

“And when you got home, he was gone?”

“Yep. And I haven’t seen him since, and hope I never do.”

“The night Vince was arrested,” Atticus says, “you told the police that you got home from work around ten, is that right?”

Rusty Whitaker frowns. “If you say so. Been fifteen years.”

“Did you drive to work that day?”

Rusty throws down a chicken wing on his plate. Puts his hands in the air like he has no idea.

Atticus continues, “Because your Monte Carlo was seen in the Blockbuster that night. If you drove to work, how could Vince have—”

“No idea. Ask Vince.”

“Do you have any idea where he would’ve gone? Could his mother have put him up? Do you know how we can reach her?”

The club announcer’s voice blares from the sound system, introducing the next dancer. Rusty moves his head to see over Atticus’s shoulder. “Look, I got a half hour left for my lunch. Unless you’re gonna arrest me, we’re done.”

Atticus looks to Keller. She considers pushing more, but that won’t get them anywhere. And she really wants to get out of there. The smell of the wings, the sauce on Rusty’s cheek, the stale air, are making her stomach churn.

The next girl totters onto the stage and the music turns louder.

Keller and Atticus head for the door.

Atticus stops, turns back. Keller follows his gaze to the stage. Rusty’s on his feet, sticking a dollar bill in the dancer’s G-string. The young woman—she looks no older than twenty—twirls around the pole.

Atticus says, “In the movies, the detectives always end up interviewing witnesses at a strip club, and it seemed like it would be pretty cool. But this is awful.”

“You’ve never been to a strip club for like a bachelor party or something?” Keller says.

“No way, my mom would kill me.”

Keller suppresses a smile.

Still staring at Rusty, Atticus adds, “I hate this guy so much.”

“He’s hiding something,” Keller says, then shrugs. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find out what it is.”





CHAPTER 14





“So, ‘Atticus’ is an unusual name,” Keller says as she drives back to the office, her sidekick for the day scrolling through the Blockbuster file on his iPad. He’s scanned and uploaded all the interview notes, tips, news clippings, and other documents from the old files. She admires his enthusiasm, his optimism, that they might dig up something new. She’s not so optimistic.

“My father was a fan of To Kill a Mockingbird.”

Keller nods.

“They didn’t consider that the name might not go over well for the only brown kid at North Caldwell Elementary.” He smiles. “And I never had the heart to mention that after Harper Lee died, they released her original manuscript and Atticus turns out to be a racist.” The smile again.

It’s settled. Keller likes this young detective.

“What’s next?” he asks.

“Good question,” Keller says, watching the road closely. Bob hates it when she talks on the phone or is otherwise distracted while driving. But Bob hates multitasking generally. He’s an in-the-moment person. That works beautifully for their relationship but not so much for a fast-moving investigation.

“We rework the case file. Talk to witnesses, the families,” she says. “Try to find any connections between the Blockbuster victims and the ice cream store victims.”

Atticus swipes at his tablet. “I haven’t been able to find Vince Whitaker’s mother, or his little brother, who I think may have been adopted and changed his name. I have info on the victims’ families, though. I can try to set up some interviews.”

Keller nods.

“That leaves the Blockbuster survivor, Ella Monroe,” Atticus says.