Page 85 of Sting
“Find out what she’s telling Morrow. They’re probably doping Kinnard with painkillers, and I want to talk to him before the juice takes effect.”
Hick went back outside. Joe walked past Kinnard’s car, which was already being gone over by investigators from Morrow’s department. Others were setting up portable lights so they could search the building, although there didn’t appear to be much to search. No hiding places that Joe could see.
He stepped over two halves of a broken arrow and called a detective’s attention to it. The detective squatted down. “It’s a toy, the kind that comes in a kid’s starter set.”
“Any blood on it?”
“Not that I can see.”
“Collect it anyway.”
Another of the officers approached Joe with a bagged object. “Thought you’d want to see this.”
Joe looked at the thing in the bag. “What is it?”
“Her weapon.”
When the detective told Joe what it was, he shook his head in awe. “No wonder he’s hurting. He gonna make it?”
“He’s asking, too. Paramedic told him it depends on what all was sliced and diced by this propeller. Also on how tough he is.”
One of the detectives who’d been examining the car joined them. “Agent Wiley, we just pulled this out of the tailpipe.” He handed Joe an evidence bag. “Cell phone battery. We figure it belongs to the phone we found near him on the floor.” He also passed Joe the evidence bag containing the phone.
“Thanks.”
Joe walked over to where the paramedics were transferring the suspect onto a gurney. Morrow’s man cuffed both his hands to the rails. During the process, Kinnard was jostled. That brought on an outburst of vile and profane language the likes of which Joe hadn’t heard since Marsha had delivered their son breach. One of the paramedics assured Kinnard that the pain med he was getting intravenously would soon begin working.
Kinnard nodded at the paramedic, but his gaze had moved beyond him and connected with Joe’s. He looked him up and down and gave a derisive snort. “I didn’t know the FBI was so hard up.”
Joe smiled. “I caught them on a slow day.”
“Must have. They actually issued you a weapon?”
Joe turned his back and raised his rain slicker to reveal the holster, where he’d replaced his nine-millimeter.
When he came back around, Kinnard asked, “You ever actually fired it?”
“Practice range.” When Kinnard registered his scornful opinion of that, Joe added, “At least I never got stabbed with a broken boat part. By a girl.” He paused, then added, “’Course, a man who takes money to kill a woman doesn’t have any balls.”
Kinnard gave another snuffle of contempt and closed his eyes.
Not to be ignored, Joe nudged the sole of his cowboy boot. “Whose phone is this?”
Kinnard opened his eyes, looked at the evidence bag Joe was holding up to him, then closed his eyes again. “Get fucked.”
“If I call the last caller, who am I gonna reach?”
“I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
“Okay, be a smart-ass. It’s not my shit being pumped through my system. It’s not me who’ll be charged with kidnapping and three homicides.” When Kinnard’s slitted eyes opened wider, Joe said, “Two dead guys in Mexico. One dead Mickey Bolden. An abduction. You’ve had a busy week. And on account of it, my personal life was put in time-out. When I finally do go home, I look forward to getting fucked.” Joe leaned down, smiled, and whispered, “You already are.”
Chapter 22
Joe ushered Jordie Bennett to his and Hick’s car and helped her into the backseat. He asked again if she was all right, if she needed anything, but she responded to those inquiries with head movements.
They covered the half mile to the main road in silence. Joe saluted the state trooper he’d spoken to earlier as they drove past, and now Hick aimed them toward New Orleans. He wasn’t as intent on his driving as before, because the sun had come up and, although the day was gray, the deluge had slowed to a manageable drizzle.
Speaking for the first time, Jordie asked, “Will he be all right?”
