If there’s anything left that I even want, Maria thought. “Did they find anything?”
“No clear evidence was left behind, except for the paint cans, and there were no fingerprints on those. Atkinson must have worn gloves. As for hair samples, that’ll take a little longer, but no guarantees. Hair sample analysis is always tricky, unless there’s DNA from the root.”
Maria nodded, trying to force away the images she’d seen the night before.
“I also made some other calls this morning,” Wright said, stirring sugar and cream into his coffee. Maria noted the bags under his bloodshot eyes. “As of yet, no one has been able to talk to Lester. He hadn’t been at the station for ten minutes before his attorney showed up, and a short while after that, his father appeared, too, and made the same demands that the attorney was making. Not that they were able to talk to him, either. By then, Lester Manning was strapped to a gurney in the infirmary, on psychiatric hold. And he’s still sedated. The general consensus is that he’s nuttier than an almond tree. According to the officers, as soon as he saw the cell, he went bonkers.”
“How so?”
“Screaming. Fighting with the officers. Trying to bite the officers. And once they got him in there, he started kicking at the doors, banging his head on the wall. Crazy stuff. Even scared the other prisoners, so he had to be moved out. A doctor was called in, who gave him something to calm him down. It took five officers to restrain him, and that was when the attorney showed up. He’s claiming all sorts of civil rights violations, but it’s all on camera, so no one’s worried about Lester having some sort of case that might spring him. I wanted you to know that right up front. That’s not going to happen, no matter what his attorney might say. He shot a cop. Anyway, the point is, no one’s been able to talk to him yet.”
Maria nodded, feeling numb. “How’s…?”
“Pete?” Wright asked. “He made it through the night. He’s still in critical condition, but he’s stable for now and his vitals are improving. His wife is hopeful that he’ll regain consciousness sometime today – the surgeon said it was possible – but we’re still in a wait-and-see mode on that front. Rachel was able to spend some time with him this morning. Their boys, too. Of course, it was scary for them. They’re only nine and eleven, and he’s their hero, you know? After coffee, I’ll head over there, see if I can sit with him a bit, or at the very least, sit with Rachel.” When Maria didn’t respond, Wright rotated his coffee cup in place. “I also looked into the car that was at the bungalow. I remember seeing it, too, and to answer the question from last night, the Shallotte police did not impound the vehicle. Nor did the sheriff’s department. Which means that Atkinson showed up after the police had left to retrieve it.”
“Maybe,” Colin said.
“Maybe?” Wright asked.
“He may have been there all along. Maybe he ducked out the back when Evan and I were trying to save Margolis. He hid out for a while, then came back. That also might explain how Margolis got shot in the first place. He went in expecting one person, and then was surprised by two.”
Wright studied Colin. “When Pete talked about you,” he said, “I didn’t get the sense he liked you very much.”
“I don’t like him, either.”
Wright raised an eyebrow. “Then why did you save him?”
“He didn’t deserve to die.”
Wright turned to Maria. “Is he always like this?”