Unhinged (32 page)

“Why didn't you call the police?” Zachary asked.

“Spider was my friend. The fact that I fell in love with him sealed it for me. I decided to do what I had to do to keep him in my life. If I had to cover for him, I would. Be his alibi, I would. As long as he kept coming back to me, I'd do anything for him.”

“Are you covering for him now?”

“No,” Donny said, “I realize it's over. He's going to get caught and probably die for what he's done, but I wouldn't trade my time with him for anything.”

“Where does Spider like to hang out when he's not home?” Zachary asked.

“The gay bars in the Quarter to dance. Sometimes he'll go to a straight bar if he wants a challenge. I know he's been with other men, but that's the nature of being gay. Lots of partners. But I know he loves me. The rest is just empty sex.”

“If you had to guess where he could be hiding out, where would that be?”

Donny wiped away the tears that had rolled down his cheeks.

Zachary leaned forward, asking again, “Where would he go? If we know where to find him, there's a better chance that a surprised officer won't shoot him on the spot.”

“I don't know. He kept that life secret from me. Perhaps because he knew I'd tell in this type of situation.”

Dorrick walked over to Zachary. “Why don't you give me the memory card from the video camera and go back to the field office and wait for me. I want to ask Donny a couple of questions off the record. He might feel a little more relaxed without this thing in his face. I'll bring him back when I'm done.”

Zachary picked the camera up, ejected the memory card of Donny's confession, and put it in Dorrick's hand.

When Zachary left the room, Donny shot Dorrick a smile. “He seems like a nice kid. What other questions do you have? Shouldn't someone else be watching this?”

“No one's watching us. This whole interview has been closed session. I don't want any witnesses.”

“Any witnesses to what?” The hair on his neck stood on end.

“Tell me,” Dorrick un-holstered his weapon. “Did Spider ever mention to you who his real father is?”

“No. He just told me that his father was an abusive drunk. Sometimes he'd cry himself to sleep at night, but he's never told me anything. Really, you don't have to use these tactics on me. I'm completely honest.”

“Tactics? You watch too much television. Get me a cup of water from the bathroom, please.” He waved his gun.

Donny didn't get up. His knees wouldn't let him.

“I'm not about to turn my back on you,” Dorrick said. “You have to go in and get it for me. Do it now. Please.”

Donny nodded and rose, leaning in toward the bed in case he fell. He walked around the mattress and entered the bathroom where he saw a stack of Dixie cups next to the faucet. As he turned the knob, a sudden impact to the side of his head forced him into the flat, tiled shower area. Suddenly, he was facedown, staring at his blood, transfixed as it dripped onto the white bathroom tile.

He didn't believe this was happening because he was gay; it was because of what he knew. Every bad thing that had happened to him was because of his preference. It was little comfort to know that being a homosexual had nothing to do with why he had to die.

D
orrick entered the interrogation room, which now felt like my own personal quarters, and threw a pair of cuffs at me. “Put them on.”

“You're arresting me?”

He put his hand on his gun. “You want to break the law, I'm going to treat you like a criminal. Put them on.”

I picked them up and gently put them around my wrists. The only other time I'd ever worn cuffs was during sex, but I wasn't in the mood to reminisce. They may have taken my personal belongings, but I guessed no one had bothered checking the shoe where I kept a key to my cuffs, just in case I was ever in this predicament.

“What did Agent Wayne tell you?”

“Why don't you bring in Agents Zachary and Wayne, and we'll tell you?”

“Agent Zachary is busy and has no business with you. It's just me and you. Tell me. That mirror intercom is turned off. No recording devices. No one will hear you.”

“What do you
think
Agent Wayne told me?” I asked as cocky as a rebellious teenager.

“Listen, punk. You're not looking to come outta this in too good a shape as it stands. If you know what I think you do, you better know exactly how to play your cards ‘cause you may not be dealt another hand.”

“Poker metaphors?” I smiled. “He just wanted to tell me what he knew about Spider. Nothing new, really.”

“Why the secret meeting at the Moonwalk?”

“His idea. I don't know why. Don't you guys have equipment that could've listened in on our conversation?” I slouched in my chair, waiting for the next question, but was punched in the face instead.

Blood trickled down my chin from my bottom lip. Dorrick had hit me hard but didn't knock me off the chair. I really wasn't too surprised, taking into account Dorrick's background—do whatever necessary. I gathered myself and focused, ignoring the sting, thinking that now I was fully immersed in his world without rules. He knew what Wayne had told me, and lying would just put me in the hospital. It was time for me to be a player.

“Wayne told me about the president and Lotz and what you're doing,” I used both of my cuffed hands to wipe the blood off my chin with my shirt.

Dorrick backed away. He looked like he was sizing me up. “What do you think now?”

“I want Jennifer back. Spider has her, and as long as she's returned safe, I don't know anything else. Who's Agent Wayne?”

Dorrick smiled. I thought I had him. “You think you're slick. Do you expect me to believe after the president is reelected and Spider is caught and put away or killed, that you'll just keep your mouth shut?”

“You're going to keep quiet, aren't you?”

“I'm loyal like that. But there's only one way you're going to keep your mouth shut.”

I was going to be dead by the end of the night, floating right next to Wayne in the river.

Before either of us could utter another word, Dorrick's cell phone rang—the one with the red band on it. I knew by his expression of surprise that the ring was from only one man.

He started to answer but apparently changed his mind. He huffed, leaving the room without another word.

A
fter about ten minutes of biting my nails, the door to the interrogation room opened. Dorrick poked his head in and surveyed the small room. He gave me one more glance, then backed out the door to let someone else enter.

“Detective Dupree?” the man said in a kindly manner.

I felt as if I were on a job interview. “President Vorhees?”

He reached across the table to shake my hand, and I offered up both, still cuffed. I saw Dorrick take one last look inside the room, and then he closed the door.

President Vorhees eased into a chair. He was average looking, but his charisma filled the room. His thinning brown hair was combed straight back, exposing a wide forehead. I tried not to stare, but here I was, doing just that. I imagined this man at a younger age, using his charm to romance Greta Lotz for the night.

“Let's cut through the shit.” He had the slightest hint of a Southern drawl. He had used a thicker accent to win in the South, then kept just a hair of it to win the country. Like Huey Long, he was a sharp politician. “Agent Dorrick told me you know everything.”

“Yes, sir,” was all I could manage, despite the fact that he was rapidly losing stature in my eyes. There was a lot of Greenwood in this coward, who was letting innocent people die for his political career.

It was funny how the mind worked. I was sitting in front of the most powerful man in the free world and instead of wanting to talk politics or exchange ideas that might change a nation, I fantasized about breaking his neck with a single blow and cementing my place in history.

“Don't worry, son. No one knows why I'm here. I mean, I just caused a major traffic jam on Elysian Fields Avenue, but I do that everywhere. As far as the press is concerned, I'm taking an interest in buying some property down here, and being at the field office is only a social visit to my Army buddy Dorrick.”

“What happens now?” I pulled at my cuffs. If he could see that I was interested in working things out to his advantage, I could possibly works things out for myself.

“That depends on you. You see, I'm in a very delicate situation. I'm up for reelection soon. If news were to break that my bastard son is a serial killer, even though I had nothing to do with raising him, I'd never serve a second term. You know how the public is. I can't take that chance. His mother's the one causing all the trouble. She's blackmailing me. I can make it worth your while if you keep quiet. You want FBI? I can see to it that you move up the chain so fast your head will spin. A White House job? Just tell me what you want.”

“Do you know that your bastard has my girlfriend? The girl I'm planning to marry?”

“Yes. Dorrick just informed me.” Vorhees seemed suddenly sympathetic and sullen. It was Oscar time. “I'm sorry, but odds are, it's too late. But you can take this chance to set yourself up for life.” He leaned in closer to me. “Detective, you are in this up to your eyeballs. There is really only one choice here.”

I wiped my chin and nodded. “Your FBI plan sounds really good to me.”

The president smiled like a used car salesman, knocking his knuckles on the table three times. “Excellent. I knew you'd be on board. Dorrick, however, doesn't trust you, and that's why I like him. Until this is over, you will be watched closely. You talk to anyone, and Dorrick will deal with you.”

“Mr. President,” I said as he rose, “why didn't you just claim responsibility for fathering a bastard child from the beginning?”

“It would have destroyed my political career. Look at all the boneheads getting caught nowadays. Even if I had claimed him and paid child support, could you imagine all the women who would come forward claiming the same thing?” He chuckled. “Back then, I had my share.”

“You're just a stud, I guess,” I said absently.

He straightened his jacket, then cupped his balls. “Great swimmers.” He smiled and winked. “You'll go far.”

Vorhees knocked hard on the door. Dorrick opened it and stepped halfway in the room. “Get those cuffs off him, Agent,” the president said. “He's one of us.”

The president left, and Dorrick closed the door behind him. His hand roamed around one pocket until he located his keys. “I know you said what you had to say, Dupree. You're smart like that. Just remember that I'm watching and will take care of you if you step out of line.”

Dorrick took the cuffs off and put them in his back pocket. He returned to the door and stared at me.

“Am I free to go?” I asked.

“No. I have to arrange wiretaps and the crew who'll watch you. You won't lose a pubic hair that I won't know about. I'd just as soon kill you, but the president thinks Lotz will go ape shit and come out of hiding. If I were you, I'd get comfortable in here.”