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Bergin might have been a gentle, caring man, but he was no fool. If there had been the slightest chance of an ambush the man would not have come here. Had it something to do with Edgar Roy? It had to, he concluded. The only reason Bergin was in Maine was because of his client.
And if the meeting had something to do with Edgar Roy, there might be a limited number of suspects. Sean wondered if that list began and ended at Cutter’s Rock.
He tensed as a car’s headlights cut through the gloomy dusk. At first he thought it was just a passing motorist, but the car slowed and then pulled in behind his Ford.
Eric Dobkin was not in uniform, and the vehicle he stepped out of was a Dodge pickup, not a Maine State Police cruiser. His shoes made clicking sounds against the asphalt as he came to stand next to Sean. He had on worn jeans, a University of Maine pullover, and a Red Sox ball cap. He looked like a high school senior on the prowl after a football game.
“What are you doing out here?” asked Dobkin, his hands in the pockets of his pullover.
“I thought it would be obvious. Checking out the scene of the crime.”
“And?”
“And it’s not doing me much good, frankly.”
“You really think he might have known the person?”
Sean looked past Dobkin, into the stretch of dark woods. Though they were miles from the ocean the briny smell seemed to overwhelm him, drift into every pore, like the stench of cigarette smoke in a bar.
“Just an educated guess, based on that window. And the fact that he’d pull over on a lonely road late at night. Odds are he wouldn’t have for a stranger.”
“Maybe somebody suckered him. Faked a car being broke down. That’s what got you to stop.”
“Yeah, but there were two of us and my partner had a gun.”
“I know your theory about a cop pulling him over sounds plausible, but I don’t think that’s possible. This is an isolated area, but everybody knows everybody else. Some stranger running around in a police cruiser would’ve been noticed.”
“I think you’re right. And if they wanted Ted dead, they really didn’t need to go to that much trouble.” Sean paused, studying the face of the other man. “You guys totally off the case?”
“Not totally. FBI’s running it, of course, but they have to use us for some stuff.”
“Find anything of interest here?”
“Nothing really. I would’ve told your partner if we had.”
“What if he were meeting someone?” asked Sean. “That would account for him both pulling off the road and lowering his window. Was there any trace evidence of another car?”
“No wheel impressions. But that’s easily gotten around. Pull your car back on the road and go back and sweep the gravel. Who would he have been meeting with?”
“I was hoping you’d have some idea of that.”
“Didn’t know the man. You did, though.”
The last comment was said in a more accusatory tone than Sean thought the other man probably intended.
“I mean if he were meeting with someone they were probably from
around here,” said Sean. “And since that doesn’t include a lot of people, I thought you might have at least a guess. Maybe somebody at Cutter’s Rock? You must know some of the folks who work there.”
“I do know some of the folks.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’m not sure I have anything to tell you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“All the same to me.”
