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“When did you break up?” Kerry then pressured him.
“We broke up months ago. What has any of this got to do with that murder?”
“Callum,” Kerry said, and May could hear her patience wearing thin, “I am going to ask you the questions. Not the other way around. Now, what happened during the break-up?”
“Nothing. We had a big fight. I didn’t harm her. We were both angry. She acted way out of line.”
What was he talking about? May wondered.
“What are you talking about?” Kerry asked.
“This is about those trumped-up charges, isn’t it? They were dropped,” Mr. McGee said menacingly. “My boy’s no criminal. Sure, he was angry with her. She should never have done what she did afterward. But that’s not our problem anymore.”
May felt instinctively that in this home environment, they were going to get no further answers. Mr. McGee felt the need to dominate on this turf, and the son was taking his lead from his father.
Kerry was obviously thinking along the same lines.
“I think you’ll have to come in,” she said. “We need to question you in more detail at the police department.”
Callum looked flabbergasted.
“You think I’m a murderer.” It was a statement, not a question. And he said it as if he couldn’t believe it.
He looked horrified.
“My son wouldn’t do anything like that!” Mr. McGee said. “I want to protest this harassment. I know my rights. I’m going to see you people in court.”
“We have every right to detain your son for questioning.”
Kerry stood up. And then, to May’s shock, Callum did, too. He made a dash for the door.
May lunged forward, grabbing his arm firmly. It was like hanging onto a steel piston. This football player was strong! In fact, he nearly dragged her right off her feet.
And, the next second, Callum’s father weighed in on the fight.
He leaped forward, fists swinging wildly as he aimed a torrent of angry blows at May.
It was so unexpected, and she had both her hands so tight around Callum’s arm, that one of the punches caught her on the ear and she staggered back, falling over a broom that she hadn’t seen in the corner of the kitchen. She landed painfully on her backside in a sprawl of limbs, with her ear ringing from the blow.
“It’s okay!”
Adams jumped to the rescue, leaping forward and grabbing the father’s thrashing fists. He expertly got him up against the wall, with a hand twisted up behind his back.
In the meantime, Kerry had moved lightning fast to grab Callum’s hands behind his back. She didn’t seem as surprised by his strength as May had been, because the click of handcuffs sounded in May’s ears as she was still untangling herself from the broom and scrambling up from the floor.
With her face burning, May felt as if she’d been completely shown up by these two expert FBI agents. To her shame, she realized she’d been, in that moment, the clumsy, bumbling amateur of the group with her ill-timed fall.
Adams was muttering threats in the father’s ear.
“You’re not beyond suspicion yourself, sir. We’re bringing you in, too. We’re going to hold you for now, while I search the premises.”
“Good idea,” Kerry said, as Adams cuffed the father. “Let’s get these two guys into custody, and you stay behind and do a thorough search of the house, Adams. Pay particular attention to that workshop.”
She sounded pleased, as if she felt the investigation was getting somewhere.
May trailed behind as Adams and Kerry hustled the father and son out to the waiting police car and bundled them inside.
“I’ll keep a watch on them. You drive,” Kerry told her.
