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“Doesn’t sit with me, either. It ain’t right. Ain’t none of it right.”
“Then give me some room, and step in when you think you can do some good.”
Gauging the time, she contacted Mira.
“Sorry it’s so early, and I’ve only got a couple of minutes. I sent you a report.”
“I haven’t read it yet. I’m just —”
“Soon as you can,” Eve interrupted. “They grabbed another last night. Male, twenty-one. About midnight. Probability’s going to go by the pattern, and give me strong odds Campbell’s dead. I want your take.”
“Give me a second. They could have gone too far, too fast, or her body simply gave out. We can say with absolute certainty this hasn’t happened before, so, yes, the probability is high she’s dead.”
“What are the chances they decided they wanted to try two at once? A dump and snatch, the same night? Maybe. But a snatch, maybe impulse, it plays, too.”
“It would be a logical escalation. It’s certainly possible, but —”
“Would you read the report as soon as you can? I’ve got some scenarios in there, some speculation. We’ve got a couple of good leads working now. I have to go deal with one, but I’d like some input once you’ve read the report.”
“I’ll go over it now, and I’ll give you what I can before I go to Dr. DeWinter.”
“Thanks. That’s my lead,” she said as her ’link signaled an incoming. “Later. Dallas.”
“With some regret, our sheriff arrested Bubba for assaulting a police officer. The lawyer’s so pissed he hasn’t noticed – as yet – I’ve stepped out. Santiago’s bleeding and causing a serious stink. If it was real I’d tell him not to be such a drama queen. I can snag Jimbo pretty easy.”
“Do it. I’m going to use your ’link to bring you both in, on your signal. Then I’m sending you back – keep them busy as long as you can. Unless the son calls for a lawyer, we can work him on this.”
“On it. I’ll send you a flag when I’ve got him.”
It didn’t take long, and hoping she didn’t screw it up, Eve used the signal to coordinate. Carmichael’s image winked in, as did the big – “Jumbo” wasn’t off – guy next to her.
He wore coveralls on a frame designed for a career as a defensive lineman. His hair, the color of bleached corn, stuck straight up from a wide, square head.
Eve figured he weighed in at an easy two-sixty, and every ounce of him was sca
red shitless.
“Thank you, Detective. Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve and Banner, Deputy William in interview with… your full name, sir?”
“Um. Ah.”
“Dorran,” Carmichael supplied. “James Beauregard.”
“Have a seat Mr. Dorran.”
“I really gotta look after my ma. My pa’s in trouble.”
“Detective, go… look after Mr. Dorran’s ma.”
“Yes, sir. You’re going to want to cooperate with Lieutenant Dallas, Jimbo. Your ma doesn’t need you in trouble, too.”
She nodded at Eve, and Eve cut her image away.
“Mr. Dorran —”
“Maybe you could call me Jimbo, ’cause nobody calls me ‘mister.’??”
“All right, Jimbo. Sit.”
