Bone Rattle by Marc Cameron (best ereader for pdf .TXT) 📕

“What about this dead girlfriend?” Grimsson asked. “Donita something.”

“Willets,” Dollarhyde said.

“They have her body?” Grimsson asked.

“No.” Senator Fawsey’s voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. “I can’t imagine her knowing anything either.”

“You and Levi get along well?” Dollarhyde said, trying to calm both Grimsson and Fawsey. Tempers and emotion would get them in real trouble.

“Yes,” Fawsey said. “Normal father and son stuff, I suppose, but he’s a good boy. We talk.”

“Be honest,” Dollarhyde said. “Is there a chance he got rid of the girl to protect you? Maybe she heard something she wasn’t supposed to?”

Grimsson was having none of this. “You stupid bastard. What could your kid possibly know? Do you keep black and white glossies of our business meetings on your desk?”

“I think they were in my office a few days ago when I got home, using my sofa to… you know. I made a few phone calls that may have mentioned our relationship, some of the problems – all with my lawyer. Don’t worry about him. It’s covered by privilege. If they happened to overhear anything, it’s not much. But I needed insurance.”

“Insuring what?” Grimsson fumed. “That we all go to prison?”

“I didn’t give any specifics.”

Dollarhyde kept his voice even, though he found it next to impossible. “You gave them enough to rouse their curiosity so they could do a little digging.”

“I’m not even sure they were there,” Fawsey said. “I found the blanket later, after I’d left and come back.”

“Okay,” Dollarhyde said. “We’ll send an attorney to see that the boy gets out of jail as soon as possible. Tell him to agree to cooperate for now. We’ll get a bond set. File a writ. Whatever it takes.”

Grimsson nodded.

“Do you understand me?” Dollarhyde prodded Fawsey to answer.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Dollarhyde ended the call. He dropped the pencil and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.

“We’ll see what he does when he’s free,” Grimsson said. “If he goes into hiding, he’s a rat. If he comes to us for help, I’ll break out some of my best whiskey and we’ll celebrate that he did what he needed to do and sunk the nosey bitch to keep his father out of jail.”

Chapter 28

“Shoulda been us, Cutter,” Lola Teariki said, exhausted, so her Kiwi accent made him Cuttah again. “We’re the ones who arrested Levi Fawsey. We should be in on the interrogation.”

Cutter stood at the reception desk of the Four Points Sheraton hotel downtown, eyes on his roller cases, waiting for the clerk to code his room key. He’d opted to move out of the lonely Vrbo and closer to town now that Mim and the kids had returned to Anchorage.

“Technically,” Cutter said, “Rockie Van Dyke arrested him.”

“She may have slapped the cuffs on him,” Lola said, “but you made first contact.”

“This is her city.”

“It’s our country,” Lola said. “My badge says United States Marshal.”

“Let me know how that attitude works for you,” Cutter said. “Jurisdiction games are for… that other agency. It just pisses everybody off when we need their help – which, I might point out, is every time we go into the field.”

Lola scuffed her boot on the lobby floor. “I guess so—”

Cutter’s phone buzzed. The caller ID was blocked. “Speaking of that other agency,” he said before answering. “Cutter.”

“Where are you?” It was Charles Beason.

“Where do you need me?” Cutter said.

“Troopers are telling me the Fawsey kid is scared.”

“Scared of who?”

“He’s not giving that up yet,” Beason said. “He says he’ll cooperate so long as he has protection. I’ve already spoken to the judge. She’s issuing an order for the USMS to babysit.”

“Teariki and I will head to JPD right now,” Cutter said. He kept his voice cheerful, unwilling to give Beason the satisfaction of a whine. Babysitting prisoners and witnesses was in fact the job of the Marshals Service. Cutter didn’t mind. By and large, most protected witnesses were just outlaws who made it to the negotiating table before their co-conspirators. Listening to them, observing their habits, helped Cutter learn what made them tick so he could catch them the next time.

He dropped his gear in the hotel room, hung the do not disturb sign on the door, and met Lola back in the lobby.

The clear day had given in to steady rain, turning the roads pitch-black, but most residents had gone to bed, making it a quick drive up Egan toward the airport.

Rockie Van Dyke met them at the employee entrance around back of the PD. Hair plastered to her face with rain, she was spitting mad.

Her mood was contagious. Cutter cocked his head, suddenly wary. “What’s the matter?”

“He’s gone,” Van Dyke said. “I went to get something from my car and ended up taking a phone call from my husband while I was out there. Dipshit’s attorney slithered in and produced a writ before I made it back in.”

“A writ…” Cutter mused. It made sense. This kid was a senator’s son, and the old saying was a judge was just a lawyer with a senator for a friend. State politicians didn’t wield the terrible cosmic power of a US senator, but they surely knew a few judges willing to sign a writ to get someone out of jail. Levi Fawsey was not yet in federal custody, which made it a fairly simple process.

Lola shot an astounded look at Cutter. “They can’t just snatch him away from us.”

“I knew you guys were coming with federal paper,” Van Dyke said. “I would have stalled if I’d been here, but my night lieutenant doesn’t like to make waves.”

Lola’s eyes narrowed, and she cocked her head in thought, pooching her lips out slightly. “So, Daddy’s closing ranks around his little murderer.”

“I don’t believe the girl’s dead,” Cutter said. “The way Levi talked about her in the present tense. He was a raw nerve of emotion when he came into the restaurant tonight, and not just because he got caught. Someone who’s that upset because his girlfriend fell overboard would have