“No priors, then.”
“No. But he had a fake ID. No green card, work visa, nothing like that in his wallet. He had less than thirty dollars cash, no credit cards. No cell phone. In this day and age, it’s practically unheard of not to have a cell phone.”
“Unless you’re someone who doesn’t want to be captured by police with one in your possession.”
“You said you didn’t think he spoke English very well.”
“That was only a guess. He might have been fluent and was just pretending not to understand me. Maybe he was so jumpy that his knowledge of inglés deserted him. A man trying to pull off such a boneheaded stunt wouldn’t be thinking clearly or intelligently.”
“Why do you think it was a boneheaded stunt?”
Crawford cocked his eyebrow. “You don’t?”
“Of course I do. But I’d like to hear why you think so.”
“You haven’t got that much time.”
“Look, be an asshole. That’s what I expect from you. I’m not here because I want to be. Believe me.”
“Oh, I believe you, Neal. You look downright constipated.”
“But as long as I was sent on this errand, you could give me something to take back to the chief.”
Crawford was about to tell him that he didn’t care if he had only his dick in his hand when he returned to the chief, but the coffeemaker was just now beginning to burble. As long as he had to wait on it, he thought, What the hell, and decided to air something that had been puzzling him.
“The guy has just gunned down a man in front of witnesses.”
“Right.”
“He’s fleeing the scene of a capital crime.”
“Right.”
“Why go to the roof?”
“Because two law enforcement agencies are located on the building’s first floor.” The matching annexes for the PD and sheriff’s office were connected to the first floor of the courthouse, extending back from each side of it to form a large letter U.
Crawford said, “Even so, going down is a much better option than the roof, where there’s only one means of escape. And another thing, he lights up a smoke.”
“Camel unfiltered.” Neal shrugged. “He needed a jolt of nicotine.”
“No doubt, but…I don’t know.” Crawford idly scratched his bare chest and turned his head to gaze out the window above the sink. It looked like rain. He might have to change what he had planned for Georgia that afternoon.
“What else?” Neal probed.
“The guy virtually guaranteed that he would be either captured or killed. Those were his only two options.”
“Suicide.”
“Also after which he would be dead.”
“What are you getting at?” Neal asked.
“Why the costume?” Musing out loud, he elaborated. “If escape was all but impossible, if he was doomed to wind up either in handcuffs or a body bag, why bother with the disguise?”
“For the scare factor?”
“Possibly,” Crawford murmured. “If so, it worked.”
His thoughts shifted back to Judge Spencer’s meltdown. For hours, she had managed to delay her reaction to the fright she’d experienced in the courtroom. She’d contained it well until his bullying, as she’d called it, had cracked her restraint. Emotions had burst out of her and the overflow had been unstoppable.
His attempt to comfort her had been awkward because, up till then, they’d never touched, not even to shake hands. Then, from that tentative, consoling pat, they had proceeded at warp speed to desperate, clutching, grinding fucking.
“You with me?”
Crawford cleared his throat and turned back to Neal. “Sorry, what?”
“Are you sleepwalking?”
“No, I was just mulling over what you were saying.”
“Which part?”
Neal posed the question like a snotty know-it-all, which was the way he’d been as a kid, and the way Crawford continued to regard him. “Look, sergeant, if you don’t like the way I’m conducting the conversation, feel free to get the hell out of my house.”
Neal stood his ground. “I repeat. None of the government agencies in the courthouse—city, state, or federal—had an appointment scheduled with a Jorge Rodriguez. He had no outstanding traffic ticket to pay. No tax bills.”
“Maybe he was there to get married.”
Neal didn’t so much as blink at the quip, much less smile.
“Think before you rule it out, Neal. JP’s office is on the fifth floor. Some men will go to great lengths to avoid tying the knot.”
Although badgering the detective felt good, Crawford’s heart wasn’t really in it. He was remembering the purpose with which Rodriguez strode toward the judge’s podium. “He was there to kill.” He looked at Neal and stated with unqualified conviction, “I don’t know who he was, or why he went about it so stupidly and suicidally, but he meant to kill.”