Detective Furlow finished questioning Len Torret at 3:45 a.m. As Mom, Ross, and I slid back into the detective’s car to return to the hotel, my brain and body felt like they were wrapped in fuzz. As much as I’d wanted to concentrate during the last half hour of the interview, my eyes kept sinking shut. Still, it had been worth it to sacrifice our sleep. Especially watching Cat cry. Mom and I did a grim high five at that.
Detective Furlow’s car smelled like ranch dressing and chicken. I’d left my salad on the seat.
“You should eat some more,” Mom said.
I made a face. “It’s icky and warm now.”
As Detective Furlow started the engine, I sank back, my sluggish brain doggedly going over everything I’d just heard.
“You were great in there, Furlow,” Ross said from the front passenger seat.
“Thanks.”
Mom buckled her seat belt. “At least he’s off the streets for a while.”
“That was my goal. We needed to keep him behind bars as long as possible while we continue investigating the murder. I’m still not convinced he knows nothing about it.”
Ross grunted. “Is he facing jail time over these current charges?”
“I hope so.” Vengeance bittered my voice.
“Possibly.” Detective Furlow pulled out of the station’s parking lot onto the street. “The fire alarm tampering and the stalking charges each carry a maximum one year. But all his charges also carry fines, so it’s possible a judge may only hand down that kind of sentence. For now, though, these multiple charges allow the prosecutor to ask for higher bail. Maybe that will help us keep him behind bars for a day or two.”
My heavy eyelids closed. The vibration of the car was lulling me to sleep.
Mom heaved a sigh. “Can’t you keep him because he’s a suspect in a murder? Isn’t that enough?”
“I wish it were that simple, but it’s a stretch. We know he’s been harassing Shaley. We know he was in town at the time of the murder. But we don’t have anything concrete to tie him to that crime.”
Anything concrete. That’s what we still needed.
I massaged my forehead, dragging in deep breaths. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever sleep again. Once in bed, would my brain even shut down? Plus I’d have maybe four hours before the alarm went off. I had to get up in time to eat something in the morning, or I was likely to faint in the airport.
Wouldn’t that “vulnerable pose” put the paparazzi in a tizzy?
At the hotel, Detective Furlow escorted us inside and to our floor. He shook hands with each of us before leaving. We thanked him profusely.
He shrugged. “Just doing my job. And it’s hardly done yet. Even though we won’t be seeing each other, you can know I’ll keep on this case. And I’ll be in touch. I hope to have an answer about the white rose tomorrow.”
Ross moved his wide neck from side to side, trying to work out the kinks. He had to tilt back his head to look the tall detective in the face. “And if Torret’s lying about sending the rose?”
“Then I’ll question him again. And next time I won’t be so nice.”