Sitting beside me, Conklin exhaled loudly and ran his hands through his hair.
He said, “Is Stoll innocent, arrogant, or dumb and dumber? It’s hard to know.”
Stoll signed the waiver. Richards signed it. Waltz signed it, too, and sat with Stoll as Richards took the waiver out of the room. He returned a minute later, took his seat, asked Richards if he wanted anything—soft drink, coffee?
Stoll shook his head no.
Richards said to Stoll, “Explain the rifle.”
“I was going out to DeKalb County to shoot at tin cans. It’s my brother’s land, and I have permission.”
“So I don’t get what you were doing on the bridge.”
“I was taking in the view. It was looking to be a gorgeous day. Man, when I’m wrong, I’m really wrong.”
Detective Waltz asked Stoll for his brother’s name, contact information, location of the property. She also took the number of Stoll’s supervisor. Then she left the room to run down Stoll’s alibis.
Richards said, “Stoll, have you ever heard of a website called Moving Targets?”
“No. Oh. It’s a video game, right? A buddy of mine used to play. Compete, you know. I didn’t find it very challenging. Not for someone trained like me.”
“Is there more to it than a game? In your opinion, could Moving Targets be a front for targeted hits on drug dealers?”
“What? Where’d you get that? That’s nuts. If we’re talking about the same thing, it’s like a kids’ game. Anyone saying otherwise is just full of crap.”
Richards drilled down, asking the same questions in different ways, taking his time, playing up to Stoll’s military expertise, asking Stoll’s opinion, looking for Stoll to contradict himself.
But Stoll was consistent.
Richards returned to the subject of Moving Targets, saying, “That website has come up during our investigation. I’d like to talk to your buddy. Ask him about how the game works.”
“I’d like to talk to him, too. Name is Sid Bernadine. He’s dead. Stroked out two or three years ago. I miss the hell out of Sid.”
Stoll looked empty. Like he’d given up everything he had to give. Richards had done a good job. I don’t know anyone who could have gotten more or better out of Stoll—not me, or Conklin, or Brady or Jacobi.
Waltz returned to the room with another cop.
Stoll said, “So what’s this now?”
Richards said, “I told you, Stoll. We’re gonna make you comfortable here while we check your alibis and your gun. You get a phone call. You want to do this nice? Or should we go ahead and cuff you?”
Richards put his hands in his pant pockets, and that opened his jacket. I caught a flash of yellow, the handle of his Taser gun.
“I’ll take that phone call now.”
The room emptied and our screen went black.