Page 126 of The Last Close Call

TWENTY-SIX

Still nothing.”

Bryan glanced up as Heidi strode into the conference room.

“Let me call you back,” Bryan told his lieutenant. “Detective Rollins is here with an update.”

Bryan got off the phone, and the fiery look in Heidi’s eyes told him something was very wrong.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing, I just told you. He’s not saying a word.”

After his initial outburst, the suspect tentatively ID’d as Will Anderson had clammed up, not uttering a word to Jack or anyone as he was Mirandized and loaded into a police car. The FBI profiler had said Anderson might be more apt to let his guard down around female cops, so Heidi and her partner had been the ones to bring him in.

Jack stepped into the room. He still had leaves in his hair, and the knees of his jeans were black with mud.

“Where is he?” Jack demanded.

“In an interview room,” Heidi said. “He’s just sitting there, cooling his heels. He didn’t say a single word on his way in here.”

Jack muttered a curse. “Did you ask him about the knife?”

Another recommendation from Skinner—bring up the weapon they had found on him and see what he had to say about it.

“He didn’t take the bait, just stared out the window the whole time.”

Jack’s mouth tightened. He was still clearly hyped up from the foot chase. Not to mention getting punched in the jaw.

“What do you think we should do?” Heidi asked Jack. Her lieutenant was supposed to be in charge here, but everyone knew Jack was the expert on this guy. “I know the profiler, in his infinite wisdom, said we should let him stew awhile, but I don’t know. I think we should take a crack at him now before he gets dug in.”

“Sounds like he’s already dug in.”

“Did you offer him something to drink?” Bryan asked.

“Yeah, but he just stared at me.” She rolled her eyes. “I think he’s been watching a few too many CSI shows. If we want his DNA, we’re probably going to need a judge to sign off.”

“Speaking of DNA, what’s going on with our sample?” Bryan asked.

“Hood is checking.”

Jack’s brow furrowed, and Bryan was beginning to think this was the primary source of Jack’s off-the-charts stress level right now. They were still waiting for confirmation on the DNA sample they had collected at the truck stop yesterday morning. Until they had it, there was the possibility that Rowan’s research was flawed, and they’d zeroed in on the wrong guy.

Yeah, skulking around people’s yards at night wearing all black and carrying a hunting knife made him look guilty as hell, but still. Anderson hadn’t had gloves on him. Or a ski mask. So maybe tonight was merely a dry run. Or a reconnaissance mission.

Or maybe—and Bryan hoped to hell this wasn’t the case—they had arrested the wrong man, and WCR was still at large.

Heidi sighed. “So, if he isn’t talking at all, at least there’s one bright side—he hasn’t lawyered up yet.”

“He will,” Jack said.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s smart.” Jack checked his watch and looked at Bryan. “We should get going on that search warrant for his house. I want to be ready to move as soon as we get that DNA match.”

“Assuming we get it,” Heidi said.

“We’ll get it.”

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