“Then ask for Riley Patterson. Or call the Gossamer Ridge Police Department and ask for Kristen Cooper.”
Massey glanced at J.D. “How many cops are you related to?”
“Do auxiliary deputies count, too?”
Massey grinned. “You must be the black sheep of the family.”
“Funny.”
“What were you doing snooping around there, anyway?” Massey unlocked the cuffs behind his back.
J.D. rubbed his sore wrists. “Am I under arrest?” Nobody had read him his rights, but clearly he wasn’t free to go.
Massey led him to a small interview room. “Take a seat.”
J.D. sat across from the deputy, wondering how much he should say about his real reason for being at Annabelle’s. His own family was sympathetic to his quest for justice, but he’d found over the years that the local cops would prefer he just butt out.
“At the scene, you said you were just curious about the place because it had been a murder scene. How did you know that, you being a newcomer to town and all?”
Oh, what the hell. If he lied, he’d just look as though he was hiding things. “Twelve years ago, my wife was murdered in Gossamer Ridge, in a secluded area, late at night. She was raped and stabbed to death. The killer left no evidence behind.”
The deputy’s eyes gave a small flicker. “Go on.”
“There’ve been similar murders. In Mississippi five or six years ago. Up in Millbridge, Alabama, in the last six months—”
“Are you talking about the murders that college kid committed? He was already in jail when Carrie Gray was killed.”
This must be how Alicia felt, J.D. thought, trying to explain her theory about the serial killer pair to Gabe the first time. “There are two people involved. Marlon Dyson—the college student—was only one of the two killers. The other one is the guy who actually does the stabbings.”
Massey frowned. “So the kid was just along for the ride?”
“The theory is, he procured the victims. Followed them, scouted out their schedules, getting to know them so that he and the alpha killer could get the drop on them more easily—”
“Alpha killer?”
“That’s the theory. The alpha killer wields the knife. The beta does the legwork beforehand.”
“Whose theory?”
Here we go, J.D. thought. “A criminal psychology doctoral student figured it out.”
“A student?” Massey sounded skeptical.
J.D. pressed his lips together tightly, growing annoyed. “A doctoral student. An instructor, really. And she’s a hell of a lot smarter than—”
“She?”
“Yes, she.”
“Let me guess—new girlfriend? Got you a pretty little young thing who comes up with this fancy idea, so you thought you’d snoop around to impress her by handing her a new case to ponder?”
J.D. stared at Massey, repulsed. “The girl’s barely six years older than my daughter.”
“And you’re listening to her theories?” Massey snapped back.
This interview clearly wasn’t getting J.D. anywhere. Maybe he should play the apology card and see if he could get them to just let him go without any further trouble.
“Fine—you don’t buy the serial killer pair theory. But do you at least get that I wasn’t there to cause any trouble or do anything illegal?” he asked Deputy Massey.
“You were already doing something illegal—trespassing.”
“How did you know?” J.D. asked.
“Know what?”
“That I was trespassing.”
Massey’s eyes narrowed. “A 911 call.”
J.D. tried to hide his surprise. Who would have called 911? The place was in the middle of nowhere, on a road that had seen absolutely no traffic in the short time J.D. was there looking around, at least until the deputies rolled up, sirens blaring.
Unless—
“Don’t suppose you know who called it in?”
Massey looked suspicious. “What does it matter? Was she wrong—?” He stopped, flushing as he realized he had just spilled more than he’d intended.
So a woman had called it in. A woman who’d apparently been sneaking around the restaurant herself, if she’d been in position to see J.D. looking around the property.
Now, who did he know who had a reason to be at the restaurant—and who’d probably be more than happy to call in a prowler report just to get J.D. out of her way?
“Doesn’t matter,” he told Massey aloud. “You’re right, she saw what she saw.”
“Why do you carry a gun?” Massey asked.
J.D. was surprised the deputy hadn’t asked that question first. “I have a permit for concealed carry.”
“I know. We looked it up. But why the CCW permit?”
“Last November, some drug enforcers came gunning for my brother. They were sent by a drug lord named Eladio Cordero—”
Massey spat out a profanity. “Luke Cooper’s your brother?”
“Yeah,” J.D. said with a nod. “I carry the SIG for my own protection.”
“Way I heard it, your family took out most of the bad guys by yourselves before the law arrived.” Massey’s smile was grim but satisfied. “I’d have liked to have a piece of that.”
“Am I free to go now?” J.D. asked. “You won’t catch me trespassing again.”
“Leaving town?”
“Not right away,” J.D. answered honestly. “I have to wait until my kid’s finished visiting his grandparents.”
“They live in the area?” Massey asked.
“Yeah,” J.D. answered, realizing he should have dropped his in-laws’ names from the beginning. “George and Lois Teague. Do you know them?”
Massey’s eyes lit up. “Why sure, everybody around here knows Doc Teague. He’s been treating most of the town since we were kids. You’re Doc Teague’s—” The deputy’s voice faltered as he put the clues together. “You’re Brenda’s husband. The sailor.”
“Yes.”
The deputy’s expression grew grim. “I went to school a few years behind Brenda, but I knew her. Nicest person you’d ever want to know.”
J.D.’s heart contracted. “Yeah, she was.”
“I guess I can’t blame you for going to extremes to find the bastard who killed her,” Massey said, his demeanor completely changed. “But I can’t really have you out there interfering with an ongoing murder investigation, Mr. Cooper. You understand?”
J.D. nodded. “I understand.” He hadn’t really figured the local lawmen would buy into Alicia Solano’s two-killer theory without a lot more evidence. He’d just wanted to make the deputy understand he wasn’t a threat to law and order in Terrebonne.
“I’m