Rick pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Deke. It was Max’s rap sheet with a photo of the blurry-eyed informant staring toward the ground. He sported a day’s growth of beard and his hair stuck up as if he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times.
“Max is the man that broke the case. He’s the one that refocused the cops onto Jeb who had been questioned after Annie had vanished but never arrested for lack of evidence.”
“I know they’d gotten a lucky break but a paid CI?” Paid CIs could be valuable, but cops always weighed the CI’s greed versus the truth.
“In exchange for his testimony, Max had the charges dropped and he received a small cash sum.”
“How did he know Jeb?”
“They were drinking buddies. Saw each other in the bars all the time. Max remembers Jeb talking about Annie a few weeks before she vanished.”
“I came across some letters.” He gave Rick a rundown on the letters’ backstory along with copies.
Eyes bright with interest, Rick studied the letters. “Are you going to have them authenticated?”
“That’s what Lexis Hanover was doing when she was killed. The letters she had were taken. But our Ms. Wainwright kept copies and some originals. I’ve given those to Brad Holcombe in Forensics.”
Rick shuffled through the pages. “It pays to be suspicious.”
“Brad should have an analysis within days.”
Rick frowned. “Have you told Georgia about the letters? She’s good with handwriting.”
“Let’s have Brad take a crack at them first.” He reached for a mug and took a sip. Cold coffee tasted bitter. “Has she asked you about the case files?”
“She’s called and offered to bring me dinner.”
“She’s slick.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“So why tell me about Max?”
“Because he’s alive and well and after a little checking I found out that he’s in lockup once again. Thirty years has not done much to mend his ways.”
Deke took the piece of paper with Rick’s handwritten notes. “So Max says he saw Jeb before Annie vanished and Jeb was talking about Annie.”
“He wouldn’t be the first killer who couldn’t keep his mouth shut.”
“After a chat with Max the cops searched Jeb’s car trunk and found the bloodied tire iron.”
“A blood test reveals the type is O, a match to Annie, and B+, a match to Jeb. The cops believe they have found their man. When he’s arrested, he’s drunk. Buddy talks to him but gets nowhere fast. Tosses him in the drunk tank until he sobers up.”
“Buddy’s under pressure to get a confession.”
“Sure. But you know Buddy didn’t bow to pressure. Fact, he welcomed a good fight. No, he was gonna get a righteous confession or none at all. I watched the interview tapes. A lean, mean Buddy is on his game. Jeb is confused. At first he says he didn’t hurt Annie. And then he cries. Jeb is hungover and sick but at this point he has enough sense to demand an attorney. Buddy gets him a public defender. The PD has alone time with Jeb and then Buddy reenters the room. Jeb is really not well now. Buddy promises he’ll feel better if he tells the truth. The attorney warns silence but Jeb takes “better” to mean booze and confesses to killing Annie. After that he found himself on a runaway train that could not be stopped.”
“Exactly.”
“DNA is not back yet, is it?”
“I just checked. A day or two more.” Deke opened his desk drawer and pulled out his gun and slid it into his holster. “Why don’t we go have a chat with Max.”
Rick grinned. “Tracker. Want to go ride in a car?”
Tracker’s eyes opened and he barked. Rick rose and helped the dog off the couch. Tracker wagged his tail and barked again. “You want me to drive?”
Deke rattled the keys in his hand. “I’ll drive.”
Fifteen minutes later, Deke, Rick, and Tracker arrived at the city jail. The three were taken to an interview room while the guard located Max.
“You can’t miss this part of the job,” Deke said, staring at the gray walls.
“I miss it all.”
“Ever thought about requalifying?”
“Sure. I’ve thought about it. And I think if I hit it hard I could make it happen. But Tracker’s done. And if he can’t work, I’m out. We’re a team.”
“How’s his hip?”
“Giving him trouble. The supplements help a lot but he’ll never run again like he did.” Loyalty ran deep in Rick. He’d stayed in Nashville for the family. Given up a job he’d loved for a dog he loved. Lost a woman because of his brother Alex. Deke had allowed Rick to step into Buddy’s shoes but now realized that hadn’t been fair. It was his job to hold the Morgans together.
Before Deke could comment, the doors swung open and a handcuffed older man wearing an orange jumpsuit entered the room. The man’s body bordered on withered and the long gray hair tied at the nape of his neck had thinned to stringy strands. Fading tattoos covered his arms.
A uniformed guard held him by the arm and guided him to the bench by the table.
“Max Quincy?” Deke asked.
The old man studied him with squinted, leery eyes before grinning. “You got to be Buddy Morgan’s boy.”
“That’s right.”
“That man had an unforgettable mug. And when he was pissed he could scare Satan himself.”
Legends cast long shadows. “You were a CI for Buddy.”
“That’s right. Gave him good information. Helped him crack all kinds of cases.” Max sniffed and sat back in his chair with the confidence of a man holding all the cards.
“You gave him the big tip on the Annie Rivers Dawson case.” He smiled. “Launched his career.”
Max puffed out his chest. “Buddy knew it too. He always looked out for me after that. Fact, if he were still alive today, I’d be out of jail by now.”
Deke leaned forward. “I’m getting some heat on the Annie Rivers Dawson case. See it on the news?”
“That lawyer.” His lips flattened into a grim line. “She don’t know what she’s talking about. She wasn’t born when it happened. But I was there. I know.”
“You still remember the case?”
“As if it were yesterday.”
Deke doubted the old man recalled the details as they’d happened. The ego might cling to memories, but the truth was, time faded details into half-truths and tall tales.
“Tell me. Buddy and I never talked about his old cases. And I’d like to know what you remember.”
Max rolled his head from side to side, exposing a fading skull and crossbones tattoo on the side of his neck. “I can tell you for sure that Jeb Jones is a damn liar. He killed her.”
“Tell me what you remember.”
“It was days after she vanished. We was sitting in a bar and drinking. I was a heavy drinker, fact, few men could drink me under the table, but Jeb could. Anyway, he’d gotten paid so he had extra money. Meaning extra drinks.”
“He was drunk.”
“As a skunk. Anyway, he started talking about Annie. Said she was pretty. Said she’d had the baby but you couldn’t tell by looking at her that she’d ever been pregnant. She was still perfect. And even though she was married, he’d never stopped dreaming that they’d be together.”