Redemption Road(26)

“Detective Black,” the taller one began. “I’m Special Agent Marsh. This is Special Agent Hamilton.”

“I don’t care about introductions.” Elizabeth pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Very well.” The one called Marsh sat. The other waited a heartbeat, then sat, too. There was not a kind look between them, not a moment’s softness. “You understand you have the right to an attorney?”

“Let’s just do this.”

“Very well.” Marsh pushed a Miranda waiver across the table. Elizabeth signed it without comment, and Marsh pressed it into a folder. He looked at Dyer and gestured at an empty chair. “Captain, would you care to sit?”

“No.” Dyer stood in a corner, arms crossed. Beyond the glass, every cop was watching. Beckett looked as if he might vomit.

“All right.” Marsh started a tape recorder and gave the date, the time, the names of everyone present. “This interview is in regard to the shooting deaths of Brendan and Titus Monroe, brothers aged thirty-four and thirty-one at the times of their deaths. Detective Black has waived right to counsel. Captain Dyer is present as a witness only and is not participating in the interview. Now, Detective Black…” Marsh paused, face neutral. “I’d like to walk you through the events of August fifth.”

Elizabeth laced her fingers on the table. “I’ve given a statement regarding the matter in question. I have no additions or modifications.”

“Then, let’s consider this discussion one of nuance and color. We simply want to understand what happened a little better. I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

“Very well.”

“I’d like to hear more about how you came to be in the house where the Monroe brothers died. Channing Shore had been missing for a day and a half. Is that correct?”

“Forty hours.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Not a day and a half. Forty hours.”

“And police were actively involved in the search?”

“There was speculation she was a runaway, but, yes. We had her description and were involved. Her parents had come to the precinct. They were very concerned.”

“They’d posted a reward?”

“And spoken to local television. They were convincing.”

“Did you believe her to be a runaway?”

“I believed she’d been abducted.”

“Based on what information?” Marsh asked.

“I’d spoken to her parents and been to her house, in her room. I interviewed friends, teachers, coaches. There was no sign of drug or alcohol abuse. Her parents were not perfect, but they weren’t abusive, either. There was no boyfriend, nothing unusual on her computer. She was going to go to college. She was a solid kid.”

“That was the sole basis of your judgment?”

“She had pink sheets.”

“Pink sheets?”

“Pink sheets. Stuffed animals.” Elizabeth leaned back in her chair. “The lives of runaways are rarely pink or fluffy.”

Hamilton stared at Elizabeth as if she were something dirty. Marsh shifted in his seat. “Channing was eventually discovered in the basement of an abandoned dwelling on Penelope Street.”

“Yes.”

“How would you describe that neighborhood?”

“Decayed.”

“Violent?”

“There have been shootings there, yes.”

“Murders?”

“A few.”

Marsh leaned forward. “Why did you go into that house alone? Where was your partner?”

“I’ve explained this.”

“Explain it again.”

“It was late. We’d been working Channing Shore’s disappearance since five in the morning. We were exhausted. Beckett went home for a shower and a few hours’ sleep. I went for coffee and a drive. We were going to meet again at five the next morning.”

“Go on.”

“I received a radio call from dispatch asking me to check out reports of suspicious activity at an abandoned house on Penelope Street. The report indicated activity in the basement, possible screams. I would not normally take a call like that, but it was a busy night. The department was stretched.”

“Stretched, how?”

“The battery plant closed that day—three hundred jobs gone in a city that can’t afford to lose three. There was rioting. Some burned cars. People were angry. The department’s resources were strained.”

“Where was Detective Beckett?”

“He’s married with kids. He needed the time.”

“So, you went alone to a dangerous neighborhood, then into an abandoned house where screams had been reported?”

“That’s correct.”

“You didn’t call for backup?”

“No.”

“Is that normal procedure?”

“It was not a normal day.”

Marsh drummed his fingers on the table. “Were you drinking?”

“That question is offensive.”

Marsh slid a paper across the table. “This is the incident report completed by your commanding officer.” He glanced at Dyer. “It says you were disoriented after the shooting. At times, nonresponsive.”