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“I had nothing to do with any of this. I’ve never seen this woman before.” He pushed the picture back across the table, this time with a swoosh that sent it flying, but Trent caught it smack between both of his palms.
“Yet you traveled here all the way from New York. Speaking of, how did you get here?”
“Bus.”
“Can you prove that?” she countered.
“I had the ticket but threw it out.”
“That’s convenient. You’re here, where Katherine lives, and you have a vendetta against her. Before coming down, you took the time to arm yourself with a Glock 19. It was the same gun used in the murder of a teenage girl.” She exaggerated the same gun part but was confident Lowell was involved. “And now, you’re telling me you took a bus? You must think we’re idiots.” She simpered and set out a photo of the NY plate. “Explain this.”
“It’s a plate from New York.”
“A friend of yours drive down with you?” she volleyed back.
“You’ve lost it, Detective. You’ve got nothing against me.”
She slapped down a picture of the snake tattoo.
Lowell barely glanced at it. “What’s that supposed to be?”
“Your friend’s left wrist. Quite elaborate ink,” she said.
“Whatever. I’ve never seen it before.”
She sat back in her chair, frustrated. If only there was a legal way to force people to talk. Regrouping, she resumed by showing him the typewritten threats again.
“Here we go. I never sent them, but you’re obviously not believing a word I say. It’s time for that lawyer.”
FORTY-ONE
Amanda and Trent had left Lowell Mooney and directed the uniformed officer at the door to escort him to holding. The Glock 19 was confirmed unregistered, and he faced charges for that and the possession of cocaine. His exit from prison into the free world would be a brief tour. They still hadn’t asked him about Barry Holden or the license plates either.
They found Malone in the observation room. He was on the phone, talking rushed and animatedly, his arms flailing all over the place. She collected drips of his conversation. You’re sure? Where? Stay put. Don’t touch anything. Call everyone in.
That last phrase set Amanda on edge. In her world that signified bad news. Usually a dead body. Suddenly she found herself chilled as shivers tore through her. Trent looked at her, as he must have noticed her trembling, and his eyes held concern but also mirrored fear.
Malone ended the call, palming his phone, and rubbing his beard.
“What is it?” Amanda was surprised she managed to get her voice to work. Her mind served up the image of Katherine’s dead body. “Is it Katherine?” That question ripped from her throat, as if it took blood and flesh along with it.
He shook his head. “It’s her Mercedes.”
“All right.” Amanda still wasn’t breathing easier. Had they ditched the car because Katherine was dead?
“Officer Wyatt found it out on rounds. It came back on the BOLO I had issued with the updated plates.”
“Where is it?” Amanda asked.
Malone told them it was on a country road north of Gainesville, south of Catharpin. “It’s fifty minutes out. I’ll send the GPS coordinates to you.”
“You’re not going?” she asked.
“Nope. You two can take this from here. Keep me posted.”
As they walked to the lot, they talked it out. “Why choose now to ditch the Mercedes?”
“I’m not sure you want to hear my answer.”
