Already Gone (A Laura Frost FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 1) by Blake Pierce (e book reader TXT) 📕

way he had fought all the way to thenearest station. How he’d hissed and cursed at her in court.

Several times she thought about openingher mouth, but he was so quiet and still that she didn’t want to risk it. Shewanted to get any confession he made on tape when they were back at theprecinct. The last thing they needed was for him to admit to it all, but thenrefuse to repeat it once they were in a position to record his statement asevidence.

By the time they pulled up in theprecinct’s parking lot and Nate hauled Dockhand out of the car to take him toquestioning, Laura was feeling worse and worse about it all. Somethingdefinitely wasn’t right. She just couldn’t put her finger on what.

And when you were dealing with a viciouskiller, the last thing that you wanted was something intangibly wrong. Becauseyou might just turn around and realize that someone else’s life had been atrisk, and you didn’t see it in time to stop it.

Nate took him through the bookingprocess as Laura moved away silently, stealing through the corridors to findtheir little office. She grabbed them a couple of coffees from the machine inthe hall, then sat staring at the board they’d put together. The faces of thewomen, their names. Their crime scene photographs.

What was she missing?

“You ready?” Nate asked, pushing inthrough the door and reaching to pick up his coffee.

Laura looked around, feeling as thoughhe’d just woken her up. “Yeah, I’m ready. This guy is acting weird, right?”

“Very weird,” Nate agreed with a frown. “Hewas quiet as a mouse while we went through the process. The sheriff’s guys tookhim to an interview room for us. He’s waiting now. You want to let him stew?”

Laura shook her head. “The way he is, Idon’t think it would work. It’s almost like he has no problem being here atall. That worries me.”

“Me, too,” Nate admitted, furrowing hisbrow. He passed a hand over his neatly trimmed beard, which remained neatdespite the fact neither of them had had enough sleep or time for beautyroutines, and shrugged. “Can’t let him see it, though. All right, let’s go.”

Laura silently agreed, getting up andwalking with him a short distance to another room. It was set up for theinterview already. Looking through a small window in the door, Laura sawDockhand sitting at a table, with two chairs facing him. He was quiet, hishands laced on top of the table.

Laura doused her hesitation by grabbinghold of the handle and stepping inside, placing her coffee down on the tablealongside the file which contained all of the information they had on the caseso far. It also contained a number of blank pieces of paper, a technique whichbulked it out and made it look as though they knew far more than they did.

“Brent Dockhand,” Laura said, thenhesitated, looking at the empty space next to him. Beside her, Nate was takinghis place, folding his large frame into the uncomfortable metal chair. “You areentitled to a lawyer. You’re waiving your right to representation?”

Brent nodded calmly. “For now,” he said,looking up at her and then across to Nate. “I may change my mind, but I’mhoping that I don’t have to.”

Laura narrowed her eyes and folded herarms across her chest. She wasn’t going to play this guy’s game. If he was goingto act like this was all fine and easy for him, she was going to call him onit. “You’re very calm, for someone who has been accused of murder,” she pointedout.

Brent shrugged. “I wouldn’t have been ifit was anyone else,” he said. “But it’s you. So it all makes sense.”

Laura frowned at him. “What makes sense?”Given that she was looking for someone that she knew was directly targetingher, his words made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Was this hisplan all along? To get her to arrest him again, for some sick reason?

“Well, I heard about the murders,”Dockhand said. His tone was humble and quiet, his eyes landing somewhere on thetable rather than meeting hers. “I knew they would be looking into offenders.That’s what happens whenever there’s something like this. They come knocking onyour door.”

“Sex offenders,” Laura pointed out. “That’swhat you mean, isn’t it, Brock? Men who have been violent towards women.”

“Yeah.” He cast his eyes further downfor a moment, as if ashamed. Laura wasn’t buying it.

“But why does my involvement haveanything to do with you being calm?” Laura asked. She wanted to needle him, togoad him into saying something he shouldn’t. “I’ve taken you down once before.You don’t believe I can do it again?”

“Oh, I believe it,” Dockhand said, witha wry smile that quickly faded. “But I didn’t do anything this time. And itmakes sense. You hear about these murders, you see that I’m here—I don’t blameyou. I would bring me in for questioning, too.”

“So you admit that you look guilty?”Laura asked. She was determined not to give in to him. She was rolling withwhat he was saying, trying to find a way to twist it against him. She neededto, if she was going to get a confession out of him.

“Well, I guess.” Dockhand shrugged. “I’mnot, though. Like I said. I’m not… like that anymore. I don’t do things toother people.”

“You don’t?” Laura asked, giving him alook that told him he wasn’t believed. “How convenient that is. And we’reexpected to, what? Just go by your word?”

“I know it’s a big ask, but I’m reallynot that way,” Dockhand said. Even as his tone became pleading, his bodylanguage stayed quiet. His shoulders were slumped, his hands loose on thetable. He hadn’t formed them into fists or taken on any tension. “I’m justtrying to live this quiet, peaceful life now. Not getting into any trouble.Keeping to myself. Really. I want to be a better person than I was.”

Laura stared at him for a long moment,assessing. His face was open. He didn’t glance up at her slyly to see if she wasbuying it. He just kept his eyes on the table. Sad eyes. Not afraid or angry ordefensive. Just sad.

Sad that he’d been caught?

“Where