Chương 2
Rourke had told the missing-person detective that Sutter had seemed tired but otherwise normal.
He had said they had not spoken for nearly a week before the disappearance.
Lena folded her arms.
“Where exactly did you find the gun?”
“Second-floor records office.”
“The room where Luis Ortega died?”
“Down the hall.”
“How far?”
“Twenty feet. Maybe less.”
“The scene log doesn’t show you entering the second floor after the fire was controlled.”
“Then the scene log is wrong.”
“Three firefighters signed it.”
“Fire scenes are confused.”
“And none of them saw you recover a handgun?”
“No.”
“Convenient.”
His chin lowered. “Careful, Detective.”
There was no volume in the warning. That made it worse.
Lena had met men who used anger as a blunt instrument. Rourke’s anger was something machined and fitted. It sat behind the eyes and waited to be useful.
“You invited me here while holding evidence connected to a missing man and a fatal fire,” she said. “Careful is why you’re still standing on your own porch.”
Caleb looked down.
Rourke’s attention returned to him. “Go home.”
“He stays,” Lena said.
“He works for me.”
“He is not on duty.”
“He came here because I asked him to.”
“I know.”
That surprised both men.
Lena had watched Caleb’s city ambulance turn onto Rourke’s street through an automated traffic-camera return requested during the fire inquiry. The ambulance had been off duty, assigned to maintenance transport, yet Caleb had driven it alone. He had arrived twenty-three minutes before Rourke texted Lena the photograph of the gun.
She had been trying to decide whether Rourke wanted to surrender evidence or stage a confrontation.
Now she suspected he had called Caleb because the paramedic knew what the evidence meant.
A radio crackled from the officer at the steps. He moved away to answer.
Rourke looked at Lena’s badge rather than her face.
“What did they find in my locker?”
“They had just opened it when I arrived.”
“You left a search to patrol officers?”
“Forensic officers. Internal Affairs is observing.”
His jaw tightened again.
“Vale sent them?”
“Deputy Chief Vale was notified after the warrant was signed.”
“That means he sent them.”
“The judge sent them.”
Rourke gave a humorless breath through his nose. “You don’t know how the department works.”
“Then explain it.”
“Not on the porch.”
“You chose the porch.”
He looked at his open front door. Beyond it, the hallway was dim. A pair of women’s reading glasses lay folded beside the bowl of keys.
“Captain,” Lena said, “where is your wife?”
“At her sister’s.”
“Since when?”
“Monday.”
The fire had occurred Tuesday night.
“Why?”
“Because my wife has a family.”
The answer came too quickly.
Lena waited.
Rourke’s gaze moved to the evidence case. “Are you arresting me?”
“Not at this moment.”
“Then I’m going inside.”
“No.”
“You said you don’t have a warrant for my house.”
“I am asking you to remain available while officers preserve the weapon you removed from a restricted scene.”
“That sounds like detention.”
“It is.”
“Then say it clearly.”
“You are temporarily detained.”
The captain rubbed his thumb over his wedding ring. It was the first nervous habit Lena had seen from him.
Caleb shifted near the door.
Rourke said, “He has nothing to do with this.”
Caleb looked up. “Don’t.”
The word was barely audible.
Rourke turned toward him with an expression that seemed almost paternal.
“Caleb.”
“I said don’t.”
The officer carrying the evidence case started down the steps. The second officer remained near the hedge, speaking into his shoulder microphone.
Lena moved between Rourke and Caleb without making the movement look defensive.
“Mr. Shaw,” she said, “come down to the sidewalk with me.”
Rourke’s voice changed. “He needs union counsel.”
“He’s a paramedic, not a firefighter.”
“Same public-safety association.”
Caleb stared at the front door as if hoping someone inside would open it and give him a reason to leave.
Lena said, “You may speak to an attorney. You may refuse to answer questions. At present, you are not detained.”
Caleb swallowed.
Rourke interrupted. “Then he’s leaving.”
Lena did not look at the captain. “Is that what you want to do, Caleb?”
The paramedic’s eyes remained fixed on the narrow gap between the front door and its frame. A breeze moved it half an inch inward, then back.
“No,” he said.
Rourke’s shoulders lowered.
Caleb descended the steps. He walked past the captain without meeting his eyes.
On the sidewalk, Lena asked for his phone. Caleb hesitated, then said he would not consent to a search.
“That wasn’t what I asked,” she said. “I want you to call someone to pick up the ambulance. You’re in no condition to drive.”
His face colored.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shaking.”
He looked at his hands. The tremor was slight but visible.
“I had too much coffee.”
“You smell like you were sick.”
He turned away.
At the curb, the city ambulance idled beneath a maple tree. Its rear doors were closed. Through the windshield, Lena saw a folded paper bag on the passenger seat and a plastic cup in the holder.
Caleb wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I can have a supervisor collect the unit,” Lena said.
“No supervisor.”
“Why?”
He glanced toward the porch.
Rourke stood where Lena had left him. Without the gun, he looked no safer.
“Because Chief Vale will hear before I finish talking,” Caleb said.
It was the first thing he had offered freely.
Lena took a small notebook from her back pocket.
“Why does that matter?”
Caleb gave a short, broken laugh. “You really don’t know.”
“People keep telling me that.”
“Vale knows everything that happens in those stations. Who calls out sick. Who takes pills after a bad run. Who’s sleeping with somebody’s wife. Who’s filing for bankruptcy. Things no chief should know.”
“And what does he know about you?”
Caleb looked at the ambulance.
May you like
The lawn mower across the street stopped. The silence left behind felt intrusive.
“I treated Daniel Sutter the night he disappeared,” Caleb said.
