Page 42 of So Normal

“We’ll let you know,” Michael said. “Right now, we’re going to talk to you, and depending on what we hear, we’ll decide if you’re going to jail.”

“Oh man,” Presley whined. “I didn’t do anything.”

“So we’ve heard,” Michael said. “Walk with me.”

***

“You need to start talking to us, Leon,” Michael said. “You need to give us a reason to believe you aren’t responsible for these murders.”

They sat in one of the smaller break rooms similar to the one where they interrogated Schoenmaker. Presley sat slumped over a table with his hands cuffed behind the chair. Turk stood and growled softly at him while Faith stood next to Turk, her face stony.

“Man, I already told you,” Presley said. “I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s not gonna cut it, Leon,” Michael said. “See, we already know you did something.”

Presley’s eyes snapped up to him in shock. “What?”

Michael lifted a small baggie containing a dozen or so white pills. “See these? A few of your coworkers found these on the ground after you threw them down to escape us. Now, I’m not a pharmacist, but I’ll bet my next paycheck that when the results come back from the lab, we’re going to learn that these are prescription opiates. My guess based on the size and shape would be Norco. Pretty potent stuff. Safer than heroin and more easily obtained. I’m guessing the middle-class yuppies who take a piss next to you love the chance at a drug they can carry without risking their fluffy little careers. How much of this you sell?”

“I ain’t talking without a lawyer,” Presley said, lip jutting out.

“Sure,” Michael said, “we can do that. If you go that way, though, then we’re officially placing you under arrest for possession with intent to distribute. A little birdie tells me that this will be your third strike. A much bigger birdie tells me that three strikes in your case means ten years minimum.”

Presley whined and tears formed in his eyes.

“Now on the other hand,” Michael said, “you talk to me and maybe we don’t tell anyone about these pills. Maybe you go on your merry way. Of course, that’s only the case if you’re not a murderer. If we find out you killed McIlhenny and Richardson, you’re going down. I won’t lie to you about that. But if you didn’t kill them, and you make my life easier by sharing information that could clear you, then maybe we let you go with a warning not to fuck up again.”

“You can do that?” Presley asked.

“Sure,” Michael said, “we’re FBI. We outrank the police.”

Presley took a deep breath and said, “Can I have some water, please?”

“Sure thing,” Michael said. “Faith, would you mind getting our friend here some water?”

“Absolutely,” Faith said with a hard smile. “Still or sparkling?”

“What?”

“Nevermind. I’ll get you some of that nice spring water from the vending machine.”

“Okay,” Presley said, “Um, thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Faith replied with the same hard smile.

She fetched the water, returning just in time to catch Turk baring his teeth, and Presley shrank back.

“Guess he doesn’t like you,” Michael said. “Too bad.”

“He’s not gonna hurt me, is he?” Presley asked, his voice a squeak.

“Not as long as you stay right where you are,” Michael said.

“I ain’t moving,” Presley said, keeping his eyes on Turk.

Faith returned a moment later with a water bottle. She handed it to Presley, who drank greedily.

“So,” Michael said, “can you tell me where you were when Chester McIlhenny was killed?”

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