Vuitton’s contents spread out on the desk hadn’t been a help, either. Just typical things women shoved in their purses—chewing gum, tampons, Pepto, Spiderman Band-Aids, pen with a chewed cap, and a compact. Other than the wads of bloodied money bagged into evidence, Mary looked like any typical mom raising three kids while her husband pulled in the bacon.
Sensing a presence, Max glanced up in time to catch Sean’s head popping around the corner of the half-closed door. He motioned him in. Like his father, the kid lost no time in spilling what ran at lightning speed through his head.
“I didn’t find anyone at the house. No cars out front, either. A nosey neighbor caught us walking the perimeter and told me the husband worked at a steel plant about fifteen minutes away.”
Max grunted out what was supposed to resemble a laugh as soon as Sean rolled his eyes and removed a thick stack of folders from the only chair he ever allowed in front of his desk. Straight back and wooden seat with purposeful discomfort in mind ensured less chance of lingering visitors, but Sean knew he was the exception. Obvious his task drained him, he plopped down on the unforgiving seat anyway. Paperwork balanced at a precarious pitch on his right knee, the closest Max would ever have to a son shoved out a tired breath.
“I kept it discreet as possible in getting him out of the plant. Nice, decent guy. Secured him in Room 5 before I told him his wife robbed the store and fled the scene. Best to let him chew on the first shocker a bit before you feed him the rough stuff. Heads up. As expected, he’s in denial and pissed. Says we’ve named the wrong person, and Mary’s probably shopping somewhere else. He even tried calling her. I’m positive he’s clueless on her intentions.”
Sean’s eyes softened. It was the only characteristic his mother could lay claim. The one trait he’d one day learn to save for places other than this, Max hoped.
“They’ve got kids. Three small boys.”
Max turned back to the computer. “Yeah, I know. Go get him a soda. If he smokes, let him. I’ll be there in five.”
Chapter 4
“Is this Mary’s?”
Max pushed the interrogation room door closed with the heel of his shoe, placed the evidence bag on the floor next to the desk unable to lay claim to anything but a scarred top, an unopened Coke can, and four unsteady legs despite a sound bolting to the ugly green tile. He took a seat across from Jason Galesh.
A portable video player, small package of tissues, and a folder placed on the chipped, gray tabletop, Max took a deep breath and eyeballed the cell phone screen Jason insisted on holding out to him. The news streamed a live video of a police wrecker hooking up to the van.
“God damn it! Did you hear me?”
“Yes.” Max stared into frantic gray eyes needing to know the truth. All of it. He was a big fella, so he hoped he wouldn’t have to tackle him anytime soon. “First of all, thanks for coming in, Jason. I’m Detective Browning. You’re right. It is.”
Jason turned the phone and glared at the screen. “The other officer claimed she robbed a store. Impossible! News said the driver’s dead after a gun battle with the police. Who kidnapped her? Where is she?” The longer he stared at the extensive damage while the anchorwoman informed the world it headed to police impound for further forensic testing, the more sweat formed on his upper lip.
On a gentle, non-threatening move, Max extracted the phone from shaky fingers, turned it off, and set it to the side. He slid the driver’s license over.
“Can you confirm this is your wife?”
Jason swallowed hard and stared at the smiling face. “Yeah, it’s her.”
“I retrieved it from a purse found in the car.” Max picked up the plastic evidence bag holding the Louise Vuitton and set it back on the floor at Jason’s quick acknowledgement of recognition.
“Witnesses and police observed one person in the vehicle from the time it left the store and until it stopped on 270. The deceased driver is your wife, Mary. I went to the scene and confirmed it. I’m sorry for your loss.”
Gray eyes peeled wide, and the most sorrowful howl erupted from his throat, filling the small room and echoing off the steel walls. Max had heard this gut-wrenching sound many times, even from his own mouth. No surprise arose from the inevitable chills lifting across his flesh.
Max came to his side and started a steady pat on a shuddering wide back as the grieving man pressed a forehead to the gray Formica and clutched his hair in an unforgiving grip. The seasoned table shook from his wracking sobs. There was no reason to spill out bullshit words of comfort. This man wouldn’t want to hear them. Easing his pain was impossible as bringing ten souls back from the dead.
Long, agonizing minutes passed before Jason tried to lift his head. Max pulled the package of tissues over and yanked a few before stuffing them into a trembling hand. After a few hiccupping breaths and nose blows, the devastated guy struggled to get his shit together. His voice came out a snarled mess.
“This is crazy. I don’t understand anything.”
Parked back in his chair, Max nodded in sympathy. “I know, and I’m going to try and make sense of it, if possible. I need your help, Jason, and we’re running out of time. Can you do this for me?”
Bloodshot eyes blinked a few times. Jason straightened his spine and inhaled a sucking breath. “Uh, sure.”
“My questions are hard. Ready?”
“I think so.”
“Do you own a gun?”
“Glock 19. Keep it in a locked case at the top of our closet. I’m licensed.”
“Did your wife have any mental or health issues? Was she on medication or seeing a doctor?”
Brows lowered in an instant flash. “No. There’s nothing wrong with her. Look, you don’t understand. She’s been my girl since eighth grade, and I know—” His lip trembled.
Max’s respect for the young man grew at the quiet struggle to hold it together, determined not to break. Something the poor guy needed to rely on in the upcoming days, weeks, and months until this all became a dull throb of fucked up history. Gray eyes locked with his, voice much more confident.
“I know her better than anyone. She would’ve never done this willingly, sir. No one was in the van with her. Fine. But maybe she was forced to go along with it.”
“Want to believe your scenario more than anything, but I saw the first bit of store video before she shot the cameras out. I have a solid eyewitness who caught the robbery from start to finish.”
A shuffling of big boots broke the sudden quietness of a room seeming smaller by the second.
Max knew he had to get the poor man’s head wrapped around the idea of his wife pulling a hold up, much less hearing she went on a killing spree.
“Your wife was by herself the entire time, and the weapon used was a Glock 19. We have it in our custody.”
He felt like shit when recognizing the first spark of hope seeping into desperate gray orbs while color returned to a face drained of blood.
