Page 45 of So Insane

“Like I said,” she repeated patiently. “I’m not planning on using it.”

“Okay. Just making sure.”

They remained silent for the rest of the drive. Breaker’s Ridge Road led them out of the town proper. Faith noted that while Breaker’s Ridge Road led west and the mine itself was north of town, there were several dirt paths that would allow Diller to reach the mines without having to travel through town.

They reached the cabin a few miles outside of Granger. The road, as promised, turned to dirt, where it wound up into a small spur of the mountains. Diller’s cabin was located a half mile before the foothills.

The lights were still on inside, which made sense since Diller would normally be awake at the bar at this time. Faith lifted a hand to her pistol but pulled it away when she saw the look on Michael's face. Turk growled low in his throat as they approached the door, and Michael looked worriedly at him too.

The tv was playing inside, and when they knocked, Faith could hear Diller swear. She lifted her hand to her pistol again and, this time, left it there.

The TV volume diminished, and Faith heard shuffling footsteps as Diller approached the door. He opened it a crack and cast filmy eyes on the two agents under the porchlight. "What the hell do you want?" he growled, his voice the rasp of a longtime alcoholic.

“Linus Diller?” Faith asked.

“Who the hell are you?”

His left hand was hidden behind the door, and Faith kept her hand on her pistol. "I'm Special Agent Faith Bold. This is Special Agent Michael Prince and our K9 Unit, Turk."

Diller looked down at Turk and frowned. “That dog pisses on my porch, I’m going to kick the shit out of him.”

Michael rolled his eyes. Turk looked mildly amused at the threat.

Faith knew she should treat it with the same levity, but after what had happened with West and Turk, she couldn’t. Her eyes narrowed, and she said, “You put your hands on my dog, I’ll make sure that’s the last time you ever use them.”

Michael frowned and tried to interject. “We just need a few minutes of your time, Mr. Diller.”

“Like hell you do,” he said. “Come back with a warrant, then we’ll talk.”

He made to close the door, and Faith put her shoulder into it. Diller stumbled backward, and the door flew open. "No, we'll talk now," she said, "people are dying, and I think you know something we need to know."

When Diller stumbled back from the door, she saw that his left hand held only a half-empty bottle of whiskey, not the shotgun she expected. “What the hell are you doing?” he shouted. “Get the hell out of my house!”

Though still belligerent, his eyes held more fear than anger, and Faith pressed her advantage. “No,” she said, “if you want, you can file a complaint with the Philadelphia field office after you tell us what we need to know.”

“I think if we both take a step back,” Michael interjected, putting a hand on Faith’s shoulder, “we’ll agree that it’s in all of our best interests to get this conversation out of the way as quickly as possible. Mr. Diller, we can talk on your porch if you would prefer, but this really is an urgent matter or we wouldn’t be here at one-thirty in the morning. I’d consider it a personal favor if you just gave us a few minutes of your time.”

“Not sure what the hell I’m supposed to do with that,” Diller groused, “but all right. I’ll talk to you. Little Miss Psychopath can sit quietly and behave. Or can she?”

He leered at Faith, and Faith nearly struck him. Turk's low growl stopped her and also wiped the smile off of Diller’s face. “Hey now, I was only joking. I’m not gonna hurt her.”

“Turk will behave as long as everyone else behaves,” Michael said, glaring at Faith. “We’re here to talk. That’s all.”

Faith gritted her teeth a moment but forced herself to nod. Diller offered a nod of his own and said, “All right then. You can sit here.”

He gestured to the kitchen table where two wooden chairs sat. Faith’s lip curled when she saw the questionable stains on the chairs, but Michael stoically ignored them and sat, staring at Faith until she did the same.

"All right," Diller said. He lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips and took a long draw. A trickle of whiskey dribbled down his overgrown beard, and Faith's lip curled upward again. "What do you want to know?" he asked.

“First,” Michael asked. “Can you confirm your whereabouts six days and thirteen days ago?”

"You mean, did I kill those kids who went missing?"

“Did you?”

Diller chuckled. "No, they did for themselves. That mine's been dangerous since it was first built. Don't know why folks still try to explore it after two cave-ins."

“Have you been back since the cave-in that killed your brother and his wife?” Michael asked.

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