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“I said no!”
Bentz took that as a maybe. “What about Teri Marie Gaines?”
“Who?”
Again Bentz retrieved the picture of the dead prostitute from his pocket. “This woman.” He extended the snapshot, but Zavala took a step backward and shook his head.
“Nope. Never seen her.”
“She—”
“Again, I said no and I git where you’re goin’ with this, okay? I said, I ain’t talkin’ to you and I mean it. Not without my lawyer. You son of a bitch! You cost me years of my life! Years! I rotted in prison for somethin’ I didn’t do! Because you were too lazy to find out what really happened. And now I figure you’re doin’ it again. That’s what you cops do when you don’t have a real suspect. You come up with one and ruin his damned life, so just fu—” He glanced at the angel statue in the fountain and shook his head. “—so just leave me the H alone.”
Bentz tried another tack. He mentioned the nights the women were killed. “Can you tell me where you were?”
“With my ma.”
“Both nights?” Bentz said.
“Every night.” His lips tightened, bits of his teeth showing. Small, yellow teeth in a massive face.
“You never left?”
“Ask her.”
“I will, and if I find out you’re lying—”
“You’ll what?” Zavala demanded, his gloved hand tightening around the handle of the rake as he raised it from the ground. The lines on his face became grooves and his eyes seemed to glow with a quiet, hidden fever, a need.
Eyes on the rake, Bentz stepped to one side.
Zavala’s jaw was set and he looked as if he might take a swing.
“Try it,” Bentz suggested, goading him. Suddenly he was on the balls of his feet, itching for a fight. Let the bastard take his best shot! Large as Zavala was, Bentz was still quick, still worked out with a heavy bag and a speed bag five or six times a week. Urging the bigger man on, Bentz said, “Go ahead. See what happens when you attack an officer of the law!”
Zavala considered, the teeth of the rake pointed skyward, a tic showing near one eye. It was obvious it was all he could do to stop himself. Bentz sensed that if he just gave Zavala a little mental push, the guy would unleash.
“What is it with you and your mother?” he said, goading the gardener. “Maybe you two are in it together.”
“What?” Fury leaped in Zavala’s eyes.
“A little mother-son team?”
Zavala unleashed, swinging.
Hard and fast, the rake swept down.
Bentz caught the handle in one hand, the rusted tines a mere inch from his face. “Careful, Ned,” he cautioned, every muscle tight as he held the gardener’s angry gaze.
He’d hit a nerve.
Spittle showed in the corner of Zavala’s mouth and he gnashed those tiny, yellowed teeth together as he tried to control himself.
“I get your game, Bentz,” he spat. “You railroaded me once. I ain’t gonna let it happen again!”
But he wanted to take Bentz down. So bad. Bentz saw the hatred burning in Zavala’s eyes.
“Why don’t you come into the station and have a chat?”
