“Wrong?” He shook his head. “Willie didn’t do nothin’ wrong. I have to make a livin’ you know.”
Gina looked like she was going to jump on the tractor next to Willie and beat the truth out of him. Phil took her hand and squeezed hard, and that one touch shot his mind off on a tangent. “Do you dig holes for people other than Mr. Lamont or Mr. DeMarco?” Phil kept his tone even despite the erotic thoughts running through him at the moment. He released her hand.
“Sometimes.”
“So you dig holes when people hire you. Do you know what goes in the hole after you dig it?” Phil wasn’t sure about his mental capacity.
“Shit yeah, I do. A body.”
Willie wasn’t all that dumb, despite the fact they were having this discussion at a cemetery. “Let’s get back to Westchase. Who did you dig the hole for?”
“I can’t say.”
“Willie, do I need to subpoena you?”
Willie ran his hand up and down the lever that controlled the scoop. “What’s subpoena?”
“It means if I ask you a question, you have to tell the truth.” He didn’t add that Willie might have to go to court. He didn’t want to scare the poor guy to death.
“It was some foreigner.”
“Mr. Hakeem?”
Willie looked around again as if he expected the cemetery owner to catch him doing something he shouldn’t. Phil asked again. “Willie?”
Willie turned on the ignition and began to dig again. Gina stepped forward, grabbed hold of the tractor and placed a foot on the step.
10
Phil drummed his fingers on the conference room table and leaned toward Gina. “You can’t just go off half-cocked around a person of interest.”
His head pounded with what if scenarios. What if Willie had harmed Gina? What if Willie had run them over? God. He’d given her free reign for a moment, and she’d abused the power.
Gina leaned back and rubbed her eyes. “You keep saying that. Get over it. Nothing happened.”
“This time. Willie Wyble could have had a gun.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “He was harmless. If he’d been armed, he would have shot you on sight.”
“Me? You’re the one who tried to sit next to him. What were you thinking?” His voice shook.
“I told you in the car. I was trying to extract more information from him. Ever heard the phrase, you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Whatever. I’m fine. You’re fine.”
He’d confiscated one of the rooms at the station for some place quiet while they searched for Mr. Hakeem’s photo in the police logs and make phone calls to all the Hakeems. Some quiet.
She pulled the phone book closer to her. “I thought you wanted me to continue calling.”
“I do. I also want you to admit what you did was stupid.”
“Okay, I’m sorry, but if you hadn’t pulled me from the tractor, we would have learned something.”
“It’s not how we do it here.” Phil forced calm into his tone.
“Whatever.” Gina opened the book, thumbed through half the pages, grunted and slammed the book closed. “We’ll never find this guy. There are a million Hakeems in here.”
Hardly a million. “Try eight.”
From her subdued tone and her slumped shoulders, perhaps he’d been too hard on her. She wasn’t totally at fault. She didn’t know police procedure. Hell, he should have given her a heads up about interviewing techniques.
Actually, he blamed himself for even bringing her with him to talk to Willie in the first place. The old guy probably was harmless, but she shouldn’t have interfered with the interrogation.
Phil shoved a box of blueberries toward her as a peace offering. “I’m sorry I yelled.”
She smiled and straightened. “That’s okay. Does that mean I can stop calling?”
“Police work is about never giving up. Try a few more names.” Phil failed to keep his tone stern. Man, the woman had a way of getting under his skin.
“Why can’t we ask Samson DeMarco’s brother about the files? They might contain this man’s contact information.”
He had to hand it to her. The woman was bright. “I already tried to get a hold of the brother, but he’s out of town for a few more days.”
“Let’s go back and make Willie talk.” Her adorable lips puckered.
“I understand your frustration. I’m frustrated too, but we can’t make someone confess if he doesn’t want to.”
“I think he knows something about the body.”
“I agree, but we have no evidence to bring him in.” He didn’t have time to teach her everything about police regulations.
She leaned forward and her breasts nearly popped out of her top. Dear God in heaven, it was hard to look at her and not drool.
Phil pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “I’m hoping Lefevre is back. He handled the DeMarco case.” He turned his back to the enticing hottie and punched the number for the front desk. Mac Gibbons answered.
“Say, Mac. It’s Tedesco. Is Lefevre back yet from vacation?”
“Yeah, he’s about twenty feet behind me. He came back today.”
“Thanks.”
Phil disconnected and turned to Gina. “I’m going to see what Lefevre knows about this Hakeem guy. There’s no use wasting our time reinventing the wheel.”
She huffed. “Why didn’t you think of that before you made me do all this work?”
God, she looked so cute when she was angry, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed at the stupid stunt she’d pulled today in the field. “I thought you’d like to practice the investigative techniques.”
“Fuck you,” she said with an engaging smile.
Love to.
For the fifth time in the last half hour Hunter passed by Kerry’s house. An old couple walked across the street with their dog, and two teenagers raced down the middle of the street on bikes.
If the angry caller was smart enough to find Kerry’s phone number, he could figure out her address. There were plenty of places to hide in this tree-lined neighborhood.
Damn. The queasiness that crawled around in his stomach every time someone he knew was in danger came back full force. That’s why he’d picked Kerry up for work and dropped her home again. At least when she was in his car, the killer had little chance of harming her.
Kerry’s grandfather said he and his friends could stand watch at night. Hunter appreciated their offer, but he couldn’t trust men in their seventies or eighties to have the best reflexes. It didn’t matter they used to be cops.
As he circled her block again, his cell rang. He glanced at the display and tensed. The number wasn’t a familiar one.
“Markum.”
“This is David Kopetski. You left a message to call you?”
Janet’s husband. Hunter eased over to the shoulder, his mind racing with questions. “Thanks for the call back. I wanted to ask you about your wife, Janet.”
There was a long pause. “What about her? I haven’t heard from her in a long time.”
No shit, since she died a year ago. “Can we meet someplace to discuss her?”
“Who the hell are you?” The man had definite anger management issues.
Hunter had told him he was with the sheriff’s department when he’d called the first time. Apparently, some people don’t listen. “Hunter Markum. Hillsborough County Homicide.”
“Homicide? Is she dead?”
The man’s lack of concern caused a cold knot to form below Hunter’s ribs. “We believe so, Mr. Kopetski. I’m sorry.”
“Shit. She probably got what she deserved. Did you know she was an ex-con?”
So he knew of her release. “Yes. Could we talk? This won’t take long. I can swing by your place if you’d like.”
“I have nothing to hide.” He gave Hunter his address.
Leaving Kerry’s neighborhood to speak with Kopetski bothered him. Not that he planned on driving around until she went to bed, but he wanted to make sure if someone was watching, they’d know she was under surveillance.
If he took Kerry with him, she’d be able to add detailed information about the woman’s abuse. If by some chance Kopetski turned violent, Hunter would make sure nothing happened to Kerry.