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“Mr. Chester McIlhenny,” Faith said.
Hornfeldt regarded them with a blank stare that appeared as genuine as any look of confusion Faith had ever seen. Faith sighed and added, “He was the foreman of the jury during your father’s trial.”
“Oh.” His face darkened. “I wasn’t aware he’d passed.”
“You weren’t aware that someone had murdered him and left his body on a bench in the Twin Cities Terminal?” Michael said.
“Jesus,” Richard said. “God. No, I wasn’t aware. Is that what this is about? Someone killed a juror on my father’s trial, and you assumed it was me?”
“You have to admit, you’re pretty high on the suspect list,” Michael said.
“Why? Because my father’s a murderer, I must be too?”
He glared at the two agents, until Faith said, “You also threatened the jurors.”
Then his anger was replaced by shock. “Threatened them? I never threatened them!”
“You never said that the jurors were going to get what’s coming to them?”
His eyes widened in realization. His shoulders slumped, and he said in a defeated tone. “Oh. That. Well, yes, I said that. I was angry, you know. I mean …” he lifted his hands and let them drop, “I … yeah, when I heard my father was being sentenced to death, I got angry. I went to a bar, got drunk, and said some stupid shit. Then I went home and thought better of it. I was never going to do anything about it.”
“We’ll follow up on that alibi,” Faith said.
“And when you do, you’ll determine I’m not your guy,” Hornfeldt said, getting heated again.
“May I ask why you’re so upset, Mr. Hornfeldt?” Michael prodded.
Hornfeldt stared at him like he’d sprouted a leg from his forehead. “Why am Iupset?Why the hell do you think?”
“Please answer the question, Mr. Hornfeldt,” Michael responded calmly.
Hornfeldt laughed bitterly. “Let’s see. Why am I upset? Well, for starters, my father, who I’ve idolized from birth and who has been nothing but a saint to Danny and a rock for me when my wife passed away, was just revealed to be a serial killer. Here’s a fun fact: he kept the bodies in his freezer.”
Faith raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, he had a big, chest freezer in his garage. He used to store meat there. Well, turns out, some of the meat he stored was Soylent Green if you catch my drift. That means when I had Danny over there, he could have walked into the garage and seen a dead body chopped up and butchered like a fucking pig!”
The officers watching Turk and Danny glanced their direction. Hornfeldt sighed and lowered his voice.
“So yeah, I’ve been dealing with that. It’s hard enough that I have to pretend I believe in Heaven so Danny can believe his mom is watching over him. Now I have to deal with the fact that all the kids at his school call him Grandson of Sam because his grandfather is a murderer. You know his friends don’t talk to him anymore? Their parents don’t want them around him. Genetics, you know.” His lip curled in contempt as he said that.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Hornfeldt,” Faith said.
“Are you?” Hornfeldt replied. “Three minutes ago, I was the top suspect in this McIlhenny murder because of my last name.”
“You were our number one suspect because of your threatening comments toward the jurors, Mr. Hornfeldt,” Michael reminded him.
“Right,” Hornfeldt said, rubbing his eyes. “Right. Well, call the hotel. I wasn’t here. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry he died. McIlhenny. I don’t hate the jury anymore. They did what they had to do. I just …”
He looked over at his son, who played and laughed with Turk a few dozen yards away. “I should get him a dog,” he said absently. “Yeah. I’ll look into that.”
“Everyone should have a dog,” Faith agreed. “Do you have any idea who might want to hurt the jurors on your father’s case? Besides yourself.”
“I already told you; I don’t want to hurt them,” Hornfeldt said, growing heated again. “I got angry one night when I was drunk, that’s it. While we’re on the subject, how do you know this has anything to do with the trial?”
“Well, if you’re alibi checks out—”
“When it checks out.”
