“I’ll settle for a sister.”
Jennie bumped the back of her skull against the wall again. “I’m always that. Even when I want to toss you off a bridge.”
Malcolm was fairly certain she was joking, but he didn’t want to probe any further, just in case. “Fair enough.”
She stood up and crossed to the bars of their cell, peered out into the corridor, then turned to face him. “Any ideas about getting out of here, soldier?”
A door clanked open down the hall. Jennie turned to look, holding on to the bars, but Malcolm stayed where he was, less than eager to talk to the police. Two men came along the corridor, one of them the uniformed officer who had locked them in the cell. The other was a thin man in a rumpled suit and a loose red tie. He needed a shave and some time with a comb. He looked as if someone had dragged him out of bed and he’d pulled on yesterday’s clothes, and he carried a cup of coffee that he held on to as if it were a life preserver. Malcolm liked him immediately.
“Open it,” the rumpled man said.
“About time,” Jennie replied.
The rumpled man pointed at her. “Nope. I’m not in the mood.”
The officer opened the jail cell and stepped back to let them emerge.
“I’m Detective Ray Hope,” the rumpled man said. “Don’t take any comfort from the name. I’m not especially cheerful, and you won’t get a pep talk from me. We’re gonna have a conversation now. If you don’t make it difficult, it shouldn’t take too long.”
Detective Hope led the way. Jennie and Malcolm followed him down the corridor and into the side room they’d passed before, where the only furniture consisted of a small metal conference table and four chairs, two on either side. A single small window looked out the side of the building. The uniform followed them, and Malcolm was keenly aware of the gun at the cop’s hip; otherwise, he might have jumped on Detective Hope right then and tried to knock him out.
“That coffee smells good,” Jennie said as she took a chair.
Detective Hope gestured to the officer to leave them. The cop stepped back into the hall, but closed the door and locked them in.
“Then it smells better than it tastes,” Detective Hope replied. “Sit down.”
Malcolm stood behind Jennie instead. They both faced the detective across the table. The small window let in enough morning light to create a halo around the detective’s head.
“Where’s our mother’s body?” Malcolm asked.
Detective Hope studied him. “Your mother?”
Malcolm felt his skin prickle with urgency and irritation. “I’m sure the report you read before coming in here told you what we said to the officers who brought us here. The dead woman is Maggie Wise, our mother. We’re taking her to her hometown in Maine to bury her there.”
“There are laws about transporting human remains across state lines without a permit.”
Jennie shook her head. “That’s why you’re holding us?”
“There are lots of reasons for us to hold you. That’s the one you’ve already confessed to,” Hope said.
Malcolm gripped the back of Jennie’s chair. He didn’t like the gruff, tired man in front of him. “That’s not why you’re holding us. Not just that. Tell us what you want and we’ll make it quick so we can put this misunderstanding behind us.”
Hope leaned back in his chair. “You’ve got some brass ones, Mr. Wise. I admire that. And I see in the statement you gave the officers that you claim to be a Korean War veteran. I admire a man who loves his country.”
“Claim?” Jennie echoed. “You think he’s lying?”
“I don’t know, do I?” Hope said. “Here’s what I do know, Miss Wise. You and your brother were caught in a stolen vehicle, traveling from a town where a lot of people are dead, and before that from a train wreck where even more people are dead. You admit you were on that train, but clam up about everything after the crash.”
“I hit my head,” Jennie said. “My memory’s all jumbled.”
Detective Hope exhaled slowly and sipped his coffee. “It’s too early in the morning to play games. I’m tired and hungry, and my coffee hasn’t kicked in yet. Sit down, Mr. Wise. You and your sister are going to tell me the story of your last twelve hours or so.You don’t look like you murdered a bunch of people, but a bunch of people have been murdered, and you two seem to be the only survivors. You’re driving a vehicle that doesn’t belong to you, with a corpse in the back that you claim is your mother. I’d really like there to be an explanation for all of this, mostly because it would make my life easier and my day a whole lot brighter, but I’ve gotta admit, I don’t have a lot of hope.”
Malcolm racked his brain. It was still early in the morning, but every minute would be valuable from now on, and every hour could be the difference between putting all of this behind him and spending the rest of his life torturing himself over failing.
“Listen, Detective Hope—” Jennie began.
“She wasn’t there,” Malcolm interrupted.
