“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on. At this point, you need to be thinking about your future. How you want to spend the remaining years of your life. Do you want to live? Do you want a chance at parole? Because this is what it’s going to come down to, Steve. How you and I talk, right now, you and I, this is going to determine the shape of your life from this point on.”
Pritchard narrowed his eyes, leaned toward Mike just a little bit. “You don’t know shit.”
“I know where you’ve been staying. I know where you’ve been watching your sister.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Bullshit.”
“Alright.” Mike rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I understand – you’ve come this far, now you’re having second thoughts. So here’s where we’re at: You were arrested for disorderly conduct. Okay? And in the process of your arrest, you kicked the door of the police car as an officer approached, which hit him. So now you’re going to get hit with Assault 3, a misdemeanor. But that’s just the beginning. The DA is prepared to file additional charges based on what we have: first-degree murder. Do you understand this? If you cooperate, if you follow through with your instinct – and it was the right instinct – to turn yourself in, you have a chance at living some kind of life.”
“So, file away. I didn’t turn myself in, and I don’t give a shit. This is funny to me, watching all this bullshit.”
“How familiar are you with New York State law, Steve? You’ve got a record, but never been arrested in this state. Do you know what a buccal swab is?”
Pritchard’s eyes were cunning. “You can’t take my DNA without a court order.”
“Not true, Steve. We’re going to get your DNA and we’re going to match it to blood and tissue samples from your sister’s car. Just like we’re going to match your fingerprints to the house where you were staying.”
“I haven’t been in her car. I don’t even know what she drives. And I don’t know anything about this fuckin house you’re talking about. You’re trying to get me to say something, and it ain’t gonna work.”
“You’re going to go to jail for these initial offenses. But that can be for a little while or a long while, depending on what we tell the judge. And a year in county is no picnic.”
“A year? I won’t do a year. That’s crazy. I barely did anything.”
“No? You assaulted an officer. That’s more than ‘barely anything.’ A lot more. The only sensible thing to do now is to play nice, like I said. Because when we match your prints, it’s all over for you. We know where you’ve been.”
Pritchard blinked, starting to look angry. “You know where I’ve been then you’ll know I didn’t do this. There’s no way I’d have time to get to Lake Haven from the res.”
Mike and Overton shared a quick look and Mike said, “The res…”
“Yeah, officer. You want to know where I been staying? On the res, with Marnie Blackburn.”
“On the Kahonsie Mohawk Reservation?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you were there Thursday night? Between 7 p.m. and 9 p.m., you were with this person?”
“I was with Marlene, then, yeah.”
“You just said her name was ‘Marnie.’”
“She goes by Marnie. I call her Marnie. Other people call her Marlene.” Pritchard grinned. “So there goes your whole fuckin theory about where I been, huh?”
Mike jotted down the name Marlene Blackburn, closed up his small notebook, and dropped it into the pocket of his sport coat. “Okay, Mr. Pritchard. We’ll talk to Marnie.” He rose from the desk and started for the door, stopped. “But I’m gonna be pretty upset when she tells me you slipped out for a few hours, and she doesn’t know where you went. So why don’t we just clear that up right now?”
Pritchard wore the same defiant expression; it just seemed to be his face. Resting asshole face. “There’s nothing to clear up,” Pritchard said. “That’s where I was.”
“Enjoy county,” Mike said. He and Overton left the room together.
* * *
“So?” The Honorable Helen Cheever was a ginger-haired woman in her mid-fifties with direct, bright eyes, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, some gardening dirt smeared on the sleeve. “I’m here at the village courthouse on a Saturday. I’ve read the police report.” The judge’s eyes flitted between Mike and Overton. “Remind me which one of you is case manager on this?”
“I am,” Overton said. “Mike is lead investigator.”
“Okay, then. Mike?”
Mike pulled in a breath, let it out slow. “Pritchard shows up from out of town the night after his sister was murdered, says she had it coming.”
“But now he maintains his innocence.”
“We need physical evidence.”
The judge’s eyes flitted to Overton. “Lena?”
Overton held Cheever’s gaze. “We can’t leave anything to chance. This guy, if he did this, he needs to go away. Forever. So it has to be solid.”
“So?” Cheever said. “Your crime scene people are processing the scene; you’ll get your DNA. This Pritchard – he’s already in the database?”
Overton shook her head, “No.”
“Well, then this is a penal law misdemeanor for Pritchard, he’ll get the buccal smear when he processes into county, and then, depending on when you get through with the blood and tissue samples from the vehicle, you check for a match. I heard it was a pretty gruesome scene…”
Mike was lost in thought a moment, images of Harriet Fogarty’s mutilated body haunting him. “It was, and it’s going to take a while to process. And we’re waiting for the house on River Street. So, in the meantime I want to talk to this Marlene Blackburn, see if he’s telling the truth, or just playing games – he’s that type. But, she’s on the res.”
“Sounds like coordination with Tribal Police,” Cheever said.
“I’d like to ride out there right now,” Mike said, “but then everyone’s stepping on everybody else’s toes, yeah, so… I’ll let them take point. At any rate, if Pritchard did stay with her, we’ll submit a search warrant for her place. Call in the feds if we have to.”
After a gap in the conversation, Cheever folded her hands, said, “You know, I like the both of you. Lena, we work together all the time. Mike, it’s nice to finally meet you; I’ve heard a lot about you. And I’m glad to see the two of you working together for the first time, circumstances notwithstanding. But you’re not telling me anything I don’t know, and I get the sense… What are you holding out on?”
She looked between them, and Overton glanced at Mike, lips pursed, cueing him to answer.
“Corina Lavoie,” Mike said.
Cheever leaned back in her chair, ran a hand over her lips, then leaned forward again. “Lavoie? Lavoie from about a year ago? She went missing in Watertown…”
“Ten months ago,” Mike said. “She was also a caseworker. We’d like to check into it a little bit more.”
The judge sighed and looked out the window showing a slice of downtown, the bar and parking lot where Pritchard sounded the alarm on himself not far from view. “But you’re not putting Pritchard into that scenario?”
“We first need to determine where he’s been for the past year. But that might be getting ahead of ourselves. And there’s still the problem of Bobbi Noelle.”
“What problem?” Cheever asked.
“We can’t be sure this wasn’t supposed to be her,” Mike admitted. “If Pritchard is the doer, then it’s highly unlikely. I’d say no chance. But if we can’t find someone with motive to go after Harriet specifically, we’re looking at a possible case of mistaken identity. Or maybe someone just looking to hurt caseworkers, for any number of reasons.”