Sworn to Silence

“I don’t remember.” His attention is on Tomasetti, and I wonder if Starkey has something to hide.

 

For the first time anger stirs. Two women are dead and this filthy little man is doing his utmost to make our job as difficult as possible. Leaning over, I smack the side of his head with my open hand, forcing his attention to me.

 

“You can’t hit me like that,” he says.

 

“Then pay attention. Where were you were Saturday night?”

 

“I was here. Rebuilt the transmission on the El Camino.”

 

“Was anyone with you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Were you here all night?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You ever been to the Brass Rail?”

 

“Everyone’s been to the Rail, man.”

 

“When’s the last time you were there?”

 

“I dunno. A week ago.” His brows knit. “A week ago Sunday.”

 

“How well did you know Amanda Horner?”

 

“I don’t know no Amanda Horner.” He’s starting to look nervous, like he’s finally taking this seriously. “You guys can’t pin no murder on me. I didn’t do it.”

 

“You raped a woman fourteen years ago.”

 

“The little bitch lied, man.”

 

A burst of anger goes through me. Before I even realize my intent, my hand shoots out and I slap him open-handed. “Watch your mouth.”

 

He rubs his cheek. “That chick was a tease. Drunk. Fucked up on coke. She wanted it.”

 

“She was twelve.”

 

“I didn’t know that! I swear. She looked like a grown-up woman. Tits out to fuckin’ here.” He makes a slashing sign a foot from his chest. “And she wadn’t no virgin like she claimed.”

 

Disgust ripples through me. My temper hammers at the door, but I don’t let it out. “How well did you know Ellen Augspurger?”

 

“Don’t know her neither.”

 

“If I find out you’re lying, I’ll come down on you so hard you’ll wish you were back in prison.”

 

“I swear I don’t know her. Either of them.”

 

“You on probation?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

“You like porn?” Tomasetti breaks in.

 

Starkey cranks his head around. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

 

“Kiddie porn? You keep it in the house?”

 

“I don’t do that shit.”

 

“No, I’ll bet you’re an S&M kind of guy, aren’t you?”

 

“This is bullshit. You can’t talk to me that way.”

 

“Dwayne,” I cut in, “do you keep knives in the house?”

 

He blinks again, as if he’s having a difficult time keeping up with our questions. “Everyone has knives.”

 

“You hunt?”

 

He leans back in the chair, balancing himself on two legs. A laugh rattles from his throat. “Can’t stand the sight of blood.”

 

“You think that’s funny?” I ask.

 

“Kinda, me being the sticker and all.”

 

My molars grind. I lunge, slap my hands down on his shoulders, and shove hard. He tries to come forward in the chair to regain his balance, but he’s not fast enough. The chair tips back and he lands hard on his back.

 

“You fuckin’ cunt!” He snarls the word as he scrambles to his feet. “You can’t—”

 

I set my hand on my baton. “One step and you’re going back to Mansfield.”

 

The words freeze him in place. But he’s pissed. His face is the color of raw meat. A vein pulses at his left temple. He wants to hit me; I see it in his eyes. Part of me wishes he would try.

 

“Kate.”

 

I barely hear John’s voice over the drum of my heart. I know losing my temper is counterproductive. I tell myself I’m pushing Starkey because I want him rattled. The problem is that while Dwayne Starkey is a lowlife piece of scum, I don’t think he’s the man we’re looking for.

 

I jolt when Tomasetti’s hands come down on my shoulders. I know he can feel the tremors running through me. I don’t look at him. “Easy, Chief,” he says quietly, then steps up beside me and holds a computer disk out for Starkey to see. “Nice desktop you’ve got, Dwayne. Big-ass monitor. I’ll bet the graphics are killer. How much memory you got in that thing?”

 

“What’re you doing in my bedroom, man?” Starkey whines like a schoolboy who’s just been told he’s going to be paddled. “He’s not allowed to look through my shit.”

 

I shrug, but I want to punch Tomasetti. One badly behaved cop is enough.

 

“It was in plain sight.” Tomasetti looks up from the disk. “Delilah’s Double Date. Huh. I think I missed that one.”

 

“Ain’t no law against X-rated movies,” Starkey says.

 

“That depends on how old the stars are.” I look at the disk. “Delilah looks kind of young.”

 

“Just a kid,” Tomasetti agrees.

 

Starkey jabs a finger at the disk. I see grime beneath his nails. “I bought that good and legal.”

 

“What else do you have on your computer?” I ask.

 

“I ain’t got nothin’ I shouldn’t have. I’m fuckin’ rehabilitated.”

 

Tomasetti shakes his head. “We just want to know about the women.”

 

“Don’t know those kilt women, man.”

 

I jab my finger in his face. “Put your coat on.”