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“Well, for starters,” Faith said, “you’re visiting a cemetery five hours after closing time.”
“It’s the only time I can make it!” Campanelli protested. “I work nights.”
“Why don’t you visit in the morning?” Michael asked.
“I do, but sometimes I want to see my son after work. Is that okay? Can I do that?”
“Not if it means you have to break into the cemetery to do it.”
Campanelli looked like he was about to protest again, but instead, he stopped a moment, then said, “FBI?”
“Yes,” Faith confirmed. “I’m Special Agent Faith Bold, and this is my partner, Special Agent Michael Prince, and my K9 unit, Turk.”
“Why is the FBI answering a trespassing call?”
Faith decided to be up front. “We’re not. You’re a person of interest in the murders of Marvin Prescott and Dr. Barbara Ames.”
Campanelli looked at her, uncomprehending. Then his eyes widened. “Dr. Ames? From Houston Regional?”
“Yes,” Faith said. “We believe you were one of the last people to see her and Marvin Prescott alive. May we ask you some questions?”
“I haven’t seen either of them in weeks!” he protested.
Faith took that as a yes. “When specifically did you see them last?”
“I saw Dr. Ames at the hospital where Joey was taken after he was hit by that car. She… she gave me the news.”
Tears came to his eyes and he momentarily forgot his fear in his grief. He sobbed once and then regained control of himself. When he did, he realized he was still lying on the ground. “May I stand?” he asked.
“Yes,” Faith said. “Can I trust you not to run?”
“I mean, if I do, your dog’s gonna eat me.” Daniel laughed after he said that, a thin, forced sound.
Faith decided not to correct his misconception. She waited for Daniel to stand. He got to his feet warily, hand outstretched to ward off Turk, who watched him calmly.
When he reached his feet, he took a deep breath and said, “The other guy, what was his name?”
“Marvin Prescott.”
Daniel nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know him.”
“He was one of the paramedics who responded to the nine-one-one call.”
“Oh yeah?” He sniffed. “Yeah, they were good guys. They did their best.”
The opinion was delivered absently, and Faith could detect no sign of deception or misdirection. Her confidence in Daniel as a suspect began to diminish.
“Mr. Campanelli, can you tell me your whereabouts this last Thursday night?”
“I was at work,” he said, “Leland Shipping in Galveston. It’s a bit of a commute, but the benefits are good, and I don’t mind the drive. I usually listen to KHRT. They play oldies and on Sundays, they play the Texans game. During football season, anyway.”
He was rambling, but that was typical of someone in the early stages of grief. Now that the immediate fear for his life was gone, his eyes were vacant and unfocused.
Or focused on someone who wasn’t there and would never be there again.
“What time were you at work?”
“I clocked in at nine p.m. and clocked out at six a.m., just like always.”
