Secrets Never Die (Morgan Dane #5)(52)

“Sorry I’m late,” a deep voice said. “The alternator in my car went—”

“Kirk,” Dougherty interrupted, “there’s someone here to see you.”

Footsteps approached, and a man stepped into view. One glance at Kirk Meade, and Morgan knew where Evan had inherited his size and athletic body. In tan chino pants and a red polo shirt bearing the ABC Furniture logo, Kirk was a few inches over six feet tall, broad shouldered, and well muscled. He’d clearly lifted weights in prison. He carried a shopping bag from an auto parts store.

Reaching across Lance, Morgan handed him a business card and introduced them. He took the card and read it in a glance.

“You don’t have to talk to them,” Dougherty warned.

“Thanks, Stan, but it’s OK,” Kirk said from the doorway. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help find my boy. I’m worried to death about him.”

“If I were you, I’d have my attorney present.” Dougherty stepped into the hall to give Kirk room.

But Kirk didn’t enter the tiny office. “I appreciate you looking out for me. But they aren’t the police. They don’t have any authority. My ex-wife hired them.”

“Is there someplace where we can talk in private?” Morgan was surprised—and a little suspicious—that Kirk had agreed to speak with them so quickly. Did he have his own agenda?

“What about your room?” Lance asked, no doubt wanting a look at Kirk’s private space.

Dougherty’s phone rang. He excused himself and disappeared down the corridor.

“Not really,” Kirk said. “My roommate works nights. He’ll be upstairs sleeping now.” Kirk raised the bag from the auto parts store. “Let’s go outside. I’d like to get this alternator changed before it rains again.”

He led them back down the hall to the foyer. The door chimed when he opened it. Morgan and Lance followed him outside.

Kirk went down the two concrete steps that led to a brick walkway. “That chime is obnoxious.”

“Is the back door similarly equipped?” Morgan followed him down the steps.

“Yes,” Kirk answered. “The whole place is wired, but the back door has a different sound, more of a buzzer.”

“What’s behind the house?” Morgan spotted a gate that led to a fenced rear yard.

“There’s a back porch for guys who smoke, a barbecue, and a basketball hoop.” Kirk walked down the driveway. “We’re allowed to be outside until curfew, then they lock us in for the night.”

“That sounds restrictive,” Lance said.

“Better than prison,” Kirk retorted. He shot Lance the side-eye. “But yeah,” he admitted grudgingly. “No one gets in or out without everyone hearing the door open. They have my work and visitation schedules too. The supervisor on duty knows where I am at every minute. It’s annoying, but I have to say, when the sheriff came to question me about Paul’s death, I was fucking glad my whereabouts were accounted for. Everyone wants to pin a crime on the ex-con.”

Morgan noted that for a man claiming to be worried about his son, he hadn’t asked them a single question about their search for Evan.

The neighborhood was quiet. At one o’clock in the afternoon, children were in school, parents at work. A few cars were parked at the accounting firm next door.

Morgan did not like to interview people while walking. The side-by-side position did not allow her to read his eyes or body language. But the supervisor had been correct. Kirk was under no obligation to speak with them. She would have to accept whatever condition encouraged him to cooperate.

Kirk headed for the sidewalk. A dark-gray older-model Ford Crown Victoria sat at the curb. “I can’t stand small spaces. I’ll do anything to get outdoors.”

“Understandable.” Wanting to be a buffer between the two men, Morgan fell into step next to Kirk. Lance’s temper ran hot on a good day. This was not a good day.

“I wish I could help search for Evan”—Kirk unlocked the car and popped the hood—“but my car is a piece of shit, I’m under curfew, and I’ve only just reconnected with my son after several years of not seeing him. Tina never brought him to see me while I was away. Not once.” His voice grated on the last sentence.

“Did you ask her to bring him to visit you in prison?” Morgan asked.

“Many times,” he said bitterly. “She claimed he refused to come, but I know she did nothing but bad-mouth me to him the whole time I was gone.”

“Not seeing your son must have been very difficult for you.” Morgan soft-pedaled her next question. “How did Evan act during your first visitation?”

“How do you think he acted?” Kirk’s voice rose. “We hardly know each other. I hadn’t seen him in years. He was sullen and hostile. The first thing he said was that he didn’t want to be there.”

“How sad.” Morgan meant sad for Evan, but she didn’t specify. She wanted Kirk to talk to her. She wanted him to feel safe and think he was running the interview.

“It was. A boy needs a father.” Kirk opened the bag and removed what looked like a small ratchet.

Morgan pressed. “How was he when you saw him Sunday night?”

“The same. Still sullen. Still hostile.” Kirk turned to the car. “He wouldn’t put down his phone. He sat across from me in the booth and ignored me.”