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She turned to her partner. When she’d called to tell him about Brendal’s death, she’d also told him she planned to make the call, and he’d assured her it was the right decision.
He had been so, so spot-on.
“Thanks.”
He placed the take-out bags on the coffee table and hugged her. “You’re a great mom, Kerri. Don’t ever doubt it.”
Great was probably pushing it. But it was possible she wasn’t half-bad.
They settled around the table, and Falco passed out the burgers and fries. “Wait”—Kerri pushed to her feet—“I’ll get the beer.”
“You,” Falco ordered as he stood, “stay put. I’ll get the beer.”
She nodded and dropped back into her seat. Apparently, her exhaustion was obvious to her partner as well. She wasn’t surprised. They were well attuned to each other’s moods. Good partners always were.
Kerri picked up a fry and nibbled. By the time Falco reappeared with the cold, sweating bottles of beer, she’d gotten a second wind. “So tell me how the interviews went.”
Falco unwrapped his burger. “There are seven names on the list—all small business owners in the area like Kurtz. I talked to five.” He tore off a bite of burger.
Kerri nodded as she unwrapped her own. “You made good progress.”
“Except”—he knocked back a swig of beer—“I got nothing for it. I pitched the story that Kurtz was working on a small business–owners’ committee. None of these guys had talked business with Kurtz since before Christmas, when they discussed the holiday open house idea.”
“What about the final two?”
“I’m waiting for callbacks from both.”
No forward momentum on the case, but they were checking off more necessary boxes. That was something, she supposed.
Kerri focused on her burger, though she wasn’t very hungry, mostly to give Falco time to finish his before she launched into her latest thoughts on the case. When they’d both polished off their beers, she said, “I’ve been thinking about Walsh’s parents since the briefing, particularly after the meeting in the bathroom with his mother.”
“Oh yeah. What’re you thinking?”
“I’m thinking his father should be making more noise.” Kerri braced her forearms on the table. “I love my kid more than anything. I have all these hopes and plans for her. Most parents do.”
Falco nodded. “Course.”
“So, what went wrong with Walsh and his father? Why bother with the prestigious education and clerkship, then come all the way to Alabama for a county DDA position? Sure, his aunt is here, but if his plan was to please her, why not attend Samford instead of Harvard? What happened between the clerkship and his taking the DDA position to change his mind about joining his father’s law practice? Why wouldthe hierarchy of power within the drug trade in Birmingham, Alabama, have any bearing on Asher Walsh’s future? It makes no sense.”
“First off, parents have killed their offspring for less,” Falco pointed out.
Kerri made a face. “I’m not suggesting the father killed Walsh,” she clarified. “I’m wondering how far the son would go to prove something to his father. You know”—she shrugged—“the in-your-face-dad scenario. Maybe Birmingham was the city he chose to do it because his aunt and fond childhood memories were here. He was no doubt aware how much his father despised the aunt and all things south—according to the aunt.”
“Maybe in trying to prove whatever he intended to prove”—Falco picked up the theory from there—“the son got in too deep and got himself killed.”
“Exactly.” Kerri pushed back her chair and stood. “Maybe there’s no big mystery here. Could be nothing more than a gone-too-far situation.”
Falco nodded slowly. “You may be onto something, Devlin.”
She grinned, feeling light for the first time since the call from the school. “I think I might be. I’ll get the next round.”
Kerri headed for the kitchen. There was nothing like feeling the weight of being a failed parent to make you see the possibility in others.
She shook off the idea. In any event, the parents had to be ruled out just like anyone else close to the vic.
Had nothing to do with her own failings.
At least that was what she told herself.
