Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

smoke.’
    Paige looked reluctantly impressed. ‘That text thing’s worked, like, so many times.’
    ‘I know,’ Hector said. ‘I use that technique often myself. What’s the secret?’
    ‘Busted,’ Paige muttered. ‘Oh, look, we’re here!’
    Hector gave both Paige and Daphne a sharp look. ‘I’m serious.’
    ‘Truthfully,’ Paige said, ‘it’s all stuff you already know but haven’t told us.’
    ‘Uh-huh,’ Hector grunted. ‘We called ahead and have two uniformed officers waiting for us. At all times you stay within our circle. You’re still wearing your vest?’
    ‘Absolutely,’ Daphne said, pulling the collar of her turtleneck sweater to her collarbone to prove it. ‘Let’s go. I want to watch Joseph make Cindy Millhouse squirm.’
    And when he’s done with that, I want to know what else he’s keeping from me .
    Tuesday, December 3, 5.15 P.M.
    George Millhouse didn’t look like a murderer. That was Joseph’s first impression after walking into the interview room where Bill’s son was being held. Despite his size, he looked like a lost boy who was waiting in the mall security office for his mother to come claim him. Could be why everyone thinks he’s not so bright .
    Joseph took the seat at the far end of the table and waited for George to look up. After about ninety seconds of silence, he finally did. He had two black eyes and his nose had bled profusely at some point. Blood soaked the sleeve of his shirt. He’d probably used his shoulder to wipe the blood from his face as his hands were cuffed behind his back. His feet, however, were free.
    While Reggie was enormously well muscled, George was, well, not muscled at all. But he was a big guy, maybe two-seventy-five.
    Joseph wasn’t lulled into complacency by the young man’s physique. He’d played football in high school and some of the most effective offensive tackles were the big guys who just walked through the defensive line, steamrolling the other players. Usually they moved at little more than a stroll, but sometimes they were fast.
    ‘Are you fast, George?’ Joseph asked when he met his eyes.
    George blinked, confused and in pain. And scared. Tears had run tracks through the grime and dried blood on his face. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t know. Why?’
    Joseph shrugged. ‘Your dad took a flying leap at me. I wanted to know if I could expect the same from you.’
    ‘Why? Why did he do that?’
    ‘I guess I just got on his bad side. Do you know who I am?’
    ‘A cop?’
    ‘My name is Special Agent Carter. I’m with the FBI.’
    ‘I’m not going to tell you anything. You might as well give up and go.’
    ‘That’s not going to happen,’ Joseph said, ‘but I think you know that. I don’t think you’re as stupid as everyone seems to think you are.’ This earned him a narrow-eyed glare. As narrowed as George could manage with his eyes swollen.
    ‘If you think you’re going to insult me into telling you what you want to know . . .’
    ‘Yeah, yeah, you’re not going to tell me anything. And I have to wonder why. It could be loyalty. Maybe pride. Could be fear.’
    ‘Loyalty,’ George said in a low growl. ‘Not that you’d understand that.’
    ‘Frankly, you’re right. I don’t understand that. I mean, your family gives you all the dirty work while Reggie doesn’t lift a finger all day.’
    George shook his head. ‘You’re just bullshitting me. Reggie’s in jail.’
    ‘So are you,’ Joseph pointed out cordially. ‘Because your family gave you the dirty work. An impossible mission that you accomplished. You smuggled a knife into the courtroom and didn’t get caught.’
    Ah, there it was . The slight lifting of George’s chin. The gleam of pride.
    ‘No, I didn’t,’ George said. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
    Joseph smiled. ‘You do remember the knife, right? The one that Reggie had in his hand? The one he used to stab a deputy?’
    ‘Yes,’ George said with disdain. ‘I saw it. Doesn’t mean I smuggled it in.’
    ‘Your fingerprints are all over it. Just sayin’.’
    George’s mouth clamped shut.
    ‘We know how you did it, by the way. Pretty ingenious. Pretending to need a wrist brace, switching the supports at the last minute. You waltzed through security. Hit the men’s room, assembled the knife, walked into the courtroom – just in time for the verdict. You handed it to Cindy, who gave it to Reggie. Who blew it. All your work, all your