North had been here before, more than once actually, the little one-story cinderblock building with white paint and black, stenciled-on letters that said AUBURN POLICE DEPARTMENT. It fronted a small harbor on the lake, not far from the reservoir, and people who drove past it probably got a little goose of civic pride, looking at this unassuming bastion of law and order.
Inside, it was cramped, harshly lit by fluorescents, and it made North think of a rummage sale run by a hoarder. Lots of shit—lots of paper, lots of ancient desktops, lots of desks, all of it in too little space. And nobody was allowed to take any of it, clean things out, get rid of the junk, even though that was the whole purpose of a rummage sale. The reek of cigarette smoke battled some sort of piney-fresh cleaner, and the air was like glue. A little window unit had plastic streamers on it, fluttering as it puffed out what was supposed to be cool air. So you knew it was working, North guessed.
Shaw was using his handcuff like a maraca and humming.
A Black deputy—her nametag said Bonilla—watched them from her desk.
“Knock it off,” North said. It had been hours. Hours lost at that fucking resort, waiting with local law enforcement before they were turned over to the Auburn Police Department and Chief Cassidy. When North had asked why they were going to Auburn, nobody had bothered to answer him. And then hours here, handcuffed to this fucking chair and needing to pee like a mother. Hours while nothing happened, and that raised the hair on the back of North’s neck, because he thought it meant, most likely, that Cassidy was waiting for someone to tell him what to do. Hours of listening to Shaw try to transpose “Escape” (the piña colada song). Grimacing, he said, “I’m serious.”
Shaw broke off the humming long enough to say, “I’ve almost got it. The whole problem was the harmony, but I solved that because I realized if it’s an atonal composition, I no longer need harmony as the primary structural element.”
“What you need is a bullet to the head. How about it, Deputy Bonilla?”
She stared back at him.
North smiled. “Then how about one for me? A mercy killing?”
Nothing. Not even a glimmer. Maybe she was deaf. Maybe that was why she hadn’t killed Shaw already.
A door at the back of the station opened, and Chief Cassidy stepped out. North tried to decide if Cassidy was more of a human-sized pimple or a human-sized genital wart—probably the wart. Today, in an Auburn PD polo and jeans, the clothes making sure everyone knew his body was made up of hard lines and sharp vees and, in the right places, swells and curves, Cassidy looked more like what he probably was: a frat boy who’d never grown up, with gym time and lake time competing equally for his limited brain cells.
“You were a frat bro too,” Shaw whispered. When North glanced at him, unable to help himself, he added, “See? I am psychic. And not just for the goat-fucking.”
That, at least, got a reaction from Bonilla. Her eyes widened. So, maybe she wasn’t deaf.
Cassidy came over to them and stood there, hands on hips, looking down at them. North’s eyes were about crotch level. He sat back and stared. Then, when he felt like he’d made his point, he cut his eyes up to Cassidy’s and smirked. “See, most guys make the same mistake when they pad their junk—they go too big. Roll up a tube sock and stuff it down there, and nobody’s going to believe it. The trick is to start small. Tape a roll of quarters to your thigh, try that.”
“You’re an expert, huh?”
“You betcha.”
“He really is an expert,” Shaw said. “One time, back when North was in his fuckboy phase—well, pretty much all his phases have been fuckboy phases, except when we got moon-bound, so now he’s a fuckboy for one man only, and that’s me—but back when North was in his prime—”
“Excuse me?”
“—he stuffed one of the spring snakes, um, down there—you know what I’m talking about, the ones that are in a can of nuts, and then you open them and they jump out at you, and your aunt says, ‘I can’t do this, Phoebe, I can’t do this with Shaw anymore,’ and you’re not allowed to wrap Christmas presents after that—”
North rolled a finger. “Finish the story, bird brain.”
“—and that’s why we don’t celebrate Christmas with my family!”
“Jesus Christ.” North rubbed his forehead. Then he pointed. “Padding his tiny dick?”
“Oh! Right! He had one of those spring snakes in his, uh, pleasure pocket, and Bentley Dunn was going to go down on him, only North didn’t like Bentley because one time Bentley said I was too faggy, and so Bentley got a snake in the face.” Shaw laughed. “Only not the snake he wanted, if you know what I mean. He was all screaming and shouting, ‘My tooth, my tooth.’ It was hilarious.” Shaw seemed to take in his stone-faced audience, and in a quieter voice, he added, “I guess you had to be there.”
Cassidy studied them for another long moment. Then he said, “Gentlemen, in case it wasn’t clear from the handcuffs, I’m taking you into custody.”
“Great,” North said. “What are you charging us with?”
“Well, I’m not sure yet.”
“That’s going to be perfect when we haul your ass to court. Can you say it a little louder? Deputy Bonilla, did you hear my habeas corpus getting fucked wide open?”
“I don’t think you can say it like that, like, ‘my habeas corpus,’” Shaw said.
“Good point. Let’s call a lawyer and find out.”
“You guys are a riot,” Cassidy said. “I’m taking you into custody because there was a shooting and because nobody’s exactly sure what happened yet. I’d be remiss in my duties if I let a couple of strangers wander out of here, without even trying to figure out if they were who they said they were, if their guns had been used in any previous crimes, that kind of thing. Now, don’t get your feathers ruffled; I’m sure we can sort it all out in a day or so, and if you’re clear, we’ll send you on your way.” He waited a beat. And then he smiled.
Because, North knew, they wouldn’t be clear. An eyewitness to an old crime would miraculously appear and identify them. Or their guns would yield a ballistics match to an old case. Or, easiest of all, a pound of coke would be discovered inside the Focus. Twenty-four hours was a lot of time for a piece of shit like Cassidy to work.
“Now, we’re going to take you back to the cells,” Cassidy said, his smile growing. “And then maybe we can have a talk. A nice, long one. See, you know one of my old pals, and I’d love to hear what you can tell me about Emery.”
“Imagine an asshole with its own center of gravity,” North said, “and then give him a perfect life—this great guy for a husband, a couple of kickass kids, beautiful house, good job. You ask yourself, ‘What’d that asshole do in another existence to get all this stuff?’”
“He saved my life,” Shaw said. “But that was in a different lifetime, when we were both temple prostitutes in Corinth.”
Nobody said anything to that, but Deputy Bonilla did look a little wide eyed again.
“Oh wait,” Shaw said with a laugh. “He saved my life in this lifetime too! Remember, North? You were playing grab-ass, and Emery had to tackle me to—”
“I was not—” North began.
Before he could finish, though, the door to the station opened, and Emery stepped into the room. He looked exhausted, his already pale face washed out, amber eyes bruised with fatigue. He was still in the jeans and tee North had seen him wearing—when? Sometime the night before? John-Henry entered a moment later. He’d lost the uniform and wore a Wahredua PD polo not too different from Cassidy’s, and he looked, if possible, even more worn out than Emery—his golden complexion gray, his eyes bloodshot, a hint of blond stubble. Both men looked at North and Shaw and then at Cassidy. It reminded North of elementary school, his mom and dad showing up after North had gotten caught scrapping on the playground.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” North breathed as he sank into the seat, fighting the urge to cover his eyes.
“Let them go,” Emery said.
“Emery,” Cassidy said. He’d slapped on a smile, but it didn’t look right, and his eyes kept moving around the tiny station. “I didn’t expect you—”
“Chief Cassidy,” John-Henry said, “these men are currently employed by the Wahredua PD. I understand there was an incident. I’d love for you to debrief me, and then I’ve got to get these men back to work. We’re dealing with two high-profile murders, and I know you understand how valuable every minute is at the beginning of an investigation.”
His eyes shot to North again, and North heard the rest of it, what was left unsaid: Time I’ve lost driving an hour and a half across the state to pull your asses off the coals.
“Well, I don’t know—” Cassidy began.
“Then I’ll explain it to you,” Emery said with the ghost of a smile.
“Then I’ll call Lieutenant Mendez in the Highway Patrol,” John-Henry said firmly, “and you can tell him why you’re jamming me up.”
Cassidy’s gaze swung from one man to the other. His expression soured.
“All right,” he said as he yanked on North’s cuff. He unlocked it and let the bracelet fall away, then he repeated the move with Shaw. “Here you go. They’re persons of interest in a shooting, but that’s no big deal, I guess. Not for a couple of bigwigs like you.”
“And their vehicle,” Emery said when Cassidy stepped back.
“And our guns,” North said.
Emery shot him a look, but then he turned back to Cassidy and nodded.
“Those guns are potential evidence, but what do I know? You want ’em? Sure, have ’em. Leah, you’re seeing this, right?”
Deputy Bonilla didn’t say anything.
Cassidy returned with their guns, which Emery collected. He tossed the keys for the Focus at North, who snagged them out of the air.
“Anything else?” Cassidy asked. “Suppose they killed someone out there, and we haven’t found the bodies yet. You want me to bury them for you?”
Emery snorted as he inspected the guns and passed them back to North and Shaw.
“I’m curious to know if Eldoria PD has any idea who might have been shooting from the trees,” John-Henry said.
“Why don’t you ask them yourself?”
“I’m asking you.”
“I don’t know, Chief.” Cassidy offered a crooked grin. “Why don’t you and Emery roll into Eldoria and see if you can solve it for them? Traveling detectives. Just like you did here.”
Emery snorted again. “Has anyone made contact with Brey? Is it possible he was taken by Welch?”
“Brey’s fine. Talked to him five minutes ago.”
“You talked to him on the phone?” Emery said. “Jesus, Jonas.”
“He needs to be in a station house giving his statement,” John-Henry said. “Where is he?”
Cassidy’s crooked smile was back. “He’s recovering from a traumatic shock. I’m going to take his statement personally once he’s calmed down.”
“Fantastic. I’ll join you.”
“What? No—”
“Me or Lieutenant Mendez, your pick. Eric Brey was in contact with Welch after the murders, after Welch escaped from jail. He lied about it to my investigators. And then he almost got three people killed when his meeting with Welch turned into an ambush. I’d like to know what he has to say for himself.” He glanced at his watch. “Get on the phone with Brey and let him know he needs to be here in the next hour.”
Cassidy stared at them for several long seconds. He marched into his office and slammed the door.
“Do you think—” Emery began.
John-Henry shook his head and glanced at Bonilla, and then he motioned for the others to follow him outside.
The late afternoon shadows made pockets in the copper-colored light that filled the street and spilled out into the harbor. A few cars tootled along, but otherwise Auburn was empty. Except, of course, for the black Audi idling at the curb, where Theo’s and Auggie’s profiles were visible. One of them must have been watching because the Audi’s engine cut out and the two men got out of the car.
“Nice to see you too,” North said, examining the twin dirty looks directed at him and Shaw. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“You’re welcome?” Auggie repeated.
“What the hell was that stunt—” Theo began.
“You jackasses ran off without telling us anything!” Auggie shouted.
Red slashed Theo’s cheekbones. “You almost got Auggie killed!”
“I got you that fucking interview, and you turned around and ditched us!”
“Walking into a fucking ambush like a couple of fucking imbeciles!”
“What the fuck is your problem?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Auggie wiped sweat from his forehead. He held North’s gaze for another moment and then looked away, shaking his head. Theo’s chest was heaving, and he didn’t look away.
“Get it all out of your system?” North asked.
Shaw made an unhappy noise.
“Fuck you,” Theo said.
“Sure, Pop-Pop. Call me in thirty minutes when the Viagra kicks in.”
“Jesus Christ, North,” Auggie said. And then, with a kind of parceled out delivery, like he wanted to make sure every beat of the insult landed, Auggie said, “If you’d picked up the phone, jackass, I would have told you I’d seen Brey before. He was in the Cottonmouth Club the night I was there. He was arguing with Gid.”
The words erupted from North before he could stop them: “And you couldn’t take five fucking seconds to tell us that?”
For a moment, something ugly rose in Theo’s face until it lay just under the surface of his usual calm. Then, bit by bit, he must have forced it back down, because he took a deep breath, caught Auggie’s arm, and said, “We’re going.”
“You’re welcome Shaw kept your twinky ass alive,” North called after them. “That’s what you’re welcome for.”
Auggie looked like he tried to turn back, but Theo said something too low for North to hear and kept a tight grip on him. A minute later, the Audi was pulling away.
As the rush of the shouting match faded, the prickle of a flush worked its way across North’s chest, up his neck. Emery and John-Henry were staring at him. Worse, so was Shaw.
“Those dumbasses shouldn’t have followed—”
“You’re lucky they did,” Emery said. “You’re lucky Auggie followed you, and you’re lucky he saw that you were pinned down. You’re lucky he had the brains to understand what it meant and acted quickly to help you. You’re lucky that he had the guts to do something like that for a couple of assholes who screwed him over. You’re lucky he bought you an opportunity to move to a more defensible position after you walked into an ambush like a couple of amateurs.”
“Hold on—”
“But it shouldn’t have been an ambush,” Shaw said. “It doesn’t make any sense—”
“What doesn’t make any sense,” John-Henry said, and his voice was raw, “is why two of my investigators would meet with a state representative without telling the chief of police. Do you understand that this is my job? That I have people I report to? It’s not a two-bit detective agency operating out of a strip mall. I’m working two murders. I’m already down a detective, and I’ve got the Highway Patrol breathing down my neck, and believe it or not, I’d like a couple of hours of sleep. Instead, I’ve got to spend three hours out of the first forty-eight driving halfway across the state to keep you two out of jail. And you know what really gets me? You could have gotten Auggie killed because you two wanted to play Lone Ranger instead of picking up the fucking phone!”
The shout echoed down the empty street.
“Nobody asked you to—” North began.
Shaw’s voice was sharp and pitchy: “North!”
Even Emery, one hand on John-Henry’s shoulder, stared at him with a kind of wide-eyed disbelief, like he’d never seen this particular degree of idiocy before.
It took some doing, but North shut his mouth.
“I can’t deal with them right now,” John-Henry said.
Emery nodded. “See what you can get out of Brey, and then come home.”
John-Henry headed into the Auburn station again. A hot wind stirred, pushing on North, pushing on everything: kicking up eddies of dust, riffling the copper-colored water in the harbor, sweeping an old Drumstick wrapper under one of the Focus’s back tires.
Emery held out his hand.
North gave him the keys, and they started back to Wahredua.