McCaskey nodded to Perreth. “We’ll take this, Stan.”
Perreth shoved his chair back and puffed out his chest. For a moment Cord wondered if he was going to get the chance to watch a cop pissing match, but Perreth turned and stomped from the room without lowering his fly.
McCaskey and Valducci assumed the chairs facing Cord. Plunking a stack of files on the table at his elbow, McCaskey took the lead. “We need to ask you a few questions.”
“And here I thought you dragged me in here for a social visit. You know, a little catching up among family.”
McCaskey didn’t react. Next to him, Nikki Valducci leaned forward, as if she was anticipating the taste of blood and was just waiting for McCaskey’s go-ahead to take a piece out of him.
In contrast, McCaskey leaned back in his chair, the picture of calm control. “Where were you last night, Turner?”
“This again?” Cord really had to start documenting his every move. Maybe then his brother-in-law would get off his back. “Why don’t you just tell me what you think I did this time so I can get right to denying it?”
“Have you been in contact with Dryden Kane?”
He thought of the invitation and the scrawled note that had sent him racing to protect Melanie. “Are Melanie Frist and her son in a safe place?”
“They’re in protective custody.”
Cord blew a breath through tense lips.
“Answer the question, Turner. Have you been in contact with Dryden Kane?”
As long as Mel and Ethan were safe, the invitation didn’t matter. All admitting to receiving it would do was give McCaskey an excuse to violate Cord’s parole and send him back to serve the rest of his fifteen-year term behind bars. “Have I contacted Kane? No.”
McCaskey’s eyes narrowed to dark slits. “Then how did you know Melanie Frist and her son were in danger? Or did you just make that up?”
So much for avoiding a parole violation. “Kane sent me an invitation for a wedding reception. You and Diana and Sylvie and her husband are the guests of honor.”
A muscle twitched along McCaskey’s jaw. “And what does Melanie Frist have to do with this?”
“She’s supposed to be my date.”
“And your son?”
Cord wanted to think that Kane didn’t know about Ethan. But seeing that the killer seemed to know about everything else, it was probably wishful thinking. “If you take me back to my apartment, I’ll turn it over to you.”
“No need. The lieutenant probably secured a warrant to search your apartment by now.”
A search warrant. This had gone farther than he’d guessed. “What exactly do you suspect me of doing?”
“I imagine you’ve heard about this morning’s accident. The one involving your father.”
“I heard.” Since he’d learned Kane was his father, he’d followed stories of the serial killer in the local news. He’d heard how Kane had controlled another serial killer from his prison cell like a puppet master. He’d heard how, even though locked behind bars, he’d tried to kill his daughter Diana—Cord’s half sister and McCaskey’s wife. And of course, there was the accident. “It’s been all over the news.”
Detective Valducci shifted in her chair with the impatience of an attack dog pulling at her chain. “When is the last time you saw Eddie Trauten?”
A wave of heat washed through Cord. He kept his expression carefully frozen.
McCaskey gave his cover-girl partner an approving glance before narrowing his eyes on Cord. “Recognize the name? Or did he go by a nickname at Waupun?”
If he could, he’d pretend he’d never heard of Eddie Trauten. But after sharing a cell with the whiney little skinhead for six years of his sentence, it might be a little hard to pull off the lie. “What the hell does Eddie have to do with this?”
“Your cellie drove the stolen pickup that slammed into the motorcade transferring Kane. His truck went into the water along with the cage van. The Banes County sheriff fished his body out of the water this morning.”
“And Kane? Have they found his body yet?”
“You know they haven’t.”
Somehow he knew McCaskey would say that. This morning just got better with each passing minute. “I don’t know where Kane is. I didn’t have anything to do with Eddie breaking him out.”
McCaskey gave him a humorless smile. “Somehow I’m not inclined to believe you.”
“I don’t care what you’re inclined to do, it’s the truth.”
“The truth? I’ll bet. You ex-cons wouldn’t know truth if it bit you.” Valducci smiled showing the teeth she’d no doubt like to do a little biting with.
He was over his head. So far over, he was drowning. “I need to talk to my lawyer.”
McCaskey offered a casual shrug of one shoulder. “You sure you want to do that?”
“Why? Are you going to give me the same line as the last detective?”
McCaskey raised a brow. “Line?”
“Yeah. The old chestnut about helping you so you’ll help me. You know, that if I want Melanie and Ethan Frist protected, I’ll have to confess to whatever you want me to confess to?”
“Is that what Perreth said to you?”
“Pretty much.”
That muscle started working again. Apparently there was more bad blood between McCaskey and Perreth than a simple pissing match could explain.
McCaskey leaned forward, elbows on tabletop, fists clasped at chin level. “Melanie Frist and her son are in protective custody, and they’re going to stay there. The only skin you have to worry about saving is your own.”
“Okay. Then I’d like my lawyer to help me save it.”
“Meredith Unger, right?”
He’d told McCaskey and Valducci to call his attorney when the detectives suspected he was the copycat serial killer. “You have her number in one of those files?” He nodded at the stack looming on the table.
McCaskey kept his eyes riveted to Cord’s. “There’s one thing you might want to be aware of before you have a heart-to-heart with Meredith Unger.”
“And what’s that?”
“She has a conflict-of-interest problem you might want to consider.”
What kind of game was McCaskey trying to play this time? “I’ll bite. What’s the problem?”
McCaskey’s black eyes drilled into him, as if watching for his reaction, eager to see how he’d take the punch line. “Meredith Unger is your father’s attorney. She represents Dryden Kane.”
Chapter Four
In prison, when an inmate needed a weapon he could make disappear fast, he filled a sock with something heavy, a handful of batteries, a can of beans. One good swing, and the weapon, known as a slock, could level a man. The revelation that Cord was sharing his attorney with Dryden Kane hit him like a slock to the dome.
One corner of McCaskey’s lips lifted in something only a hair short of a smile. “You still want to call your lawyer?”
“I’ll pass.” When he’d seen Kane’s reference to Melanie in the note, he’d wondered where the