Page 64 of Nightshade

“Can’t,” he said. “You were officially taken into custody. I can’t just let you walk out without clearing this up. So, here or the cell?”

“I guess I’ll take the cell,” Forbes said dejectedly.

“Good choice.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

“Let’s go.”

Stilwell stood up, opened the door to the room, and led Forbes out and toward the jail. He put him in the cell next to the one where Merris Spivak was still detained. Cell two had been emptied of the three other men arrested over the holiday weekend, as one had made bail and Monika Juarez had declined to file charges on the other two—an unofficial sentence of time served. After locking Forbes in, Stilwell moved down the bars to cell one to check in on Spivak, who was lying on his back on a bunk. Without looking over at Stilwell, Spivak raised a middle finger to him.

“Still not talking, Spivak?” Stilwell asked.

“I don’t talk to cops,” Spivak said.

“You know we’re going to find out.”

“Find out what?”

“How you know Deputy Dunne.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, boss.”

“Yes, you do. It was Pitchess, wasn’t it? I know you were both there at the same time. What did he do to you that would make you blindside him like that?”

“Didn’t we have this conversation? I’m not telling you jack, Jack.”

“Yeah, well, assaulting a law enforcement officer on camera—you won’t be going back to Pitchess this time, Spivak. You’re going upstate. See how that works for you.”

Spivak gave another middle-finger salute, this time shaking his hand intensely as if that would make the move more insulting. Stilwell just nodded and headed back to the bullpen to call the state probation office.

22

THE CASE OFFICERwho had put out the warrant on Duncan Forbes for violation of probation was long retired. It took Stilwell fifteen minutes and four different phone calls to locate the inheritor of the long dormant and inconsequential file. His name was Rodney Willingham and he worked out of a satellite office in the south county. Stilwell’s first two calls were diverted to a message center that reported that Willingham’s message box was full. He finally got through to him on the third call.

“Willingham.”

“Uh, yeah, this is Detective Stilwell with the sheriff’s department. I got a guy here on one of your warrants.”

“Case number?”

“Fifteen-dash-seven—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—you’re talking about 2015?”

“I am.”

“You gotta hold on, then.”

“How long?”

“Let me just get my computer going.”

Stilwell heard the phone clunk down on a desk and waited. He heard typing and then Willingham picked up the phone andasked for the case number again. Stilwell gave it to him, heard typing, and then Willingham started reading from his screen.

“Forbes, Duncan. Violated May third, 2015.”

“That’s him.”

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