“I HAVE RIGHTS, YOU know.”
Hagstrom was alone in Interview Room #1, the largest of the eight interview rooms in the FBI field office’s third floor. This one featured a one-way glass at the end of the room. The interview area was designed to accommodate a small group, but that spaciousness didn’t extend to the observation room, where Kendra, Lynch, Metcalf, Gina, and the four dream team members were cramped together.
Hagstrom called out to them through the glass. “I didn’t have anything incriminating on me. Nothing at all. Should I call a lawyer?”
“The ‘L’ word,” Metcalf said. “He’s starting to get pissed off.”
Kendra studied him. Hagstrom didn’t possess the icy cool of most serial killers she’d encountered, but she knew they came in all shapes and sizes. He’d said little since Jessie brought him to the field office and he’d been escorted to the interview room.
“He thinks he’s here on a narcotics charge,” Kendra said. “Jessie says he was trying to score something when she picked him up.”
Richard Gale turned sharply toward her. “I wish to hell your friend had just let him make his buy and let us do our jobs.”
“She would have preferred that, believe me. The situation got out of control. He might have gotten killed.”
Gale smiled. “Even better.”
Roscoe shook his head. “And we wonder why people are suspicious of law enforcement.”
Griffin walked into the already crowded observation room holding the sheaf of papers Jessie had provided, along with a few more printouts. “Okay, we ran Hagstrom’s police record. He’s pretty clean. He and an ex-girlfriend took out restraining orders on each other a few years back, but they were dropped and the complaints never made it to court. Other than that, there’s nothing. We’ll have a tough time getting any kind of warrant based on what we have now.”
“What do we have on the guy who he was visiting?” Lynch asked.
Griffin looked at his printout. “The house belongs to Warren Goyer. Small-time drug dealer. Jessie Mercado says he shot at her and Hagstrom. Just the fact that he had a gun in his hand would be a parole violation that could land him back in prison for another ten years.”
Arnold Huston looked at Hagstrom through the glass. “Let me talk to him.”
Griffin thought for a moment. “Think you could push him for a vehicle and domicile search?
Huston shrugged. “I can try. In any case, his reaction might be helpful to us.”
“He’s not restrained. If you push him, he might erupt. You want to take Metcalf in there with you?”
Huston smiled. “Nah, I can take care of myself. And if he manages to sink his teeth into my jugular, you good people are only a few steps away, right?”
Huston took the sheaf of papers from Griffin and left the room.
The group turned toward the window. Huston entered the interview room from a side door a few seconds later, still holding the sheaf of papers. He tossed the papers onto the table and sat down across from Hagstrom.
“Hell of a mornin’, huh?” Huston’s voice had dropped to a folksy purr.
“You got nothing on me,” Hagstrom said belligerently.
“Then I guess that was a social call you were making this morning?”
“Maybe it was.”
“Come on, now. We both know why you were there.”
“You don’t know anything.”
Huston shrugged. “I know I’m in a position to help you.”
Kendra watched Huston as he slouched slightly in his chair. He used his voice and his entire body as finely-tuned instruments, working to build trust in the man across the table. Every dropped ‘g,’ every casual lean, was designed to encourage Hagstrom to relax and lower his defenses. No wonder his interview skills were so highly regarded.
Hagstrom snorted. “How in the hell are you going to help me? I’m not getting a whole lot of help here.”
“Sure you are. You’d be dead on the street if we hadn’t pulled you out of there when we did.”
“It was your agent, or whoever she was, who got me in trouble in the first place.”
“No, your trouble started when you visited Warren Goyer.”
“Who?”
Huston looked down at the printouts in front of him. “You may know him as Baby G.”
Recognition flashed across Hagstrom’s face.
“Funny thing is, we don’t give a damn about you. Think about it. Do you really think the Federal Bureau of Investigation cares about some two-bit user?”
“Then why am I here?”
“You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, my friend.”
“Tell me about it.”
Huston smiled. “Some of the people on the other side of that glass think maybe you’re working for Baby G.”
Hagstrom’s eyes bulged. “What?”
“That’s not a denial.”
“Here’s your denial.” Hagstrom turned toward the window. “I’ve never sold drugs. Never in my life, ever. I don’t work for that guy. That’s not what I do. I have a good job.”
“Then why in the hell were you on that street?”
“You don’t have anything on me.”
Huston stared at him. “Maybe not yet, but your association with a known drug dealer will give us grounds for a search warrant. What if we search your home? Or your car? We can have a warrant in hand by early afternoon.”
Hagstrom’s face fell. “Shit.”
“My associates think we’re going to find something that proves you’re dealing. And you’re not doing much to convince me otherwise.”
“You won’t find anything.”
“If you’re right about that, by the end of the day you won’t be our problem.”
“Go ahead and look.”
Huston cocked an eyebrow. “Are you granting us permission to search your home and car?”
“If it’ll get me out of here faster, sure.”
On the other side of the glass, Lynch spoke quietly. “Huston is making him think we’re only interested in a drug charge. Good tactic.”
Kendra shot Lynch a look. “High praise from the Puppetmaster.”
“I told you I don’t like that name.”
“I guess that’s why I enjoy saying it so much,” she murmured.
They turned back toward the interview room, where Hagstrom was now projecting greater confidence. “I’m telling you, you won’t find weed, pills, powder, or anything else.”
Huston turned back toward the window. “You’re being recorded. Do we have your express permission to search your home and car?”
“Knock yourselves out.”
“Yes or no, please.”
“You have my permission to search my home and car. But I’d appreciate it if you could tow my car from the street where I parked it. It’s on Baby G’s block, and the last time I saw him, he was trying to kill me.”
“Trust me, we’ll make life very difficult for your drug dealer. And we’ll bring your car in.” Huston stood. “Sit tight. I’ll check back with you.”
Huston exited the room and reentered the observation area.
Griffin gave him a respectful nod. “You got permission for a search. Well done.”
Huston bit his lip. “Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?” Kendra said.
“Didn’t feel right.”
“Why not?”