Oh crap. My voice. He thought he recognized my voice. If he put it together that I’d tricked him once before, he might leave us sitting here waiting for Detective Dillion for hours.
Isabel’s courage wasn’t likely to last that long.
I cleared my throat and tried to make my voice deeper. “It’s about Chief McTavish’s disappearance. It can’t wait.”
Isabel moved just enough that her sleeve brushed mine. She must have caught what I was doing with my voice. She wouldn’t know why, but I had to be careful not to freak her out, either.
Case glanced at the phone on the desk, then looked over my shoulder.
Footsteps came up behind me.
“Is this for real?” Case asked.
I almost answered him until I realized he was talking to the person behind me. I shifted position. Elise stood off to my right.
“It’s for real,” she said. “And important enough to call him in if he’s not here.”
I wanted to hug Elise. She’d spotted something I hadn’t. Case had been trying to decide if it was worth the risk to his job to disturb Detective Dillion. With how officers were dropping like bugs in a room full of Raid, I couldn’t really blame him for thinking he’d be next if he seemed to be giving us any special treatment.
But he’d worked with Elise. He trusted her in a way that he never would have trusted me. For not the first time, I was grateful for the friendships I’d made since coming here.
He picked up the receiver and dialed a number. “Take a seat,” he said to me.
Isabel sat beside me, but she folded and unfolded her hands. Finally, she trapped them between her knees. She looked more nervous than I’d felt in the past in a courtroom.
Fifteen minutes passed. The front doors swung open, and Detective Dillion entered, dressed in a dark cable-knit sweater and jeans, a scarf and overcoat draped over his arm. He looked almost normal and approachable dressed like that.
He jabbed a finger at me, then at the door to Chief McTavish’s office.
If a person could have storm clouds over their heads the way cartoon characters did, he had them. This was off to a great start.
I put a hand under Isabel’s elbow in case she decided to bolt and brought her along with me.
Detective Dillion slammed the door to the office behind us. The walls next to it rattled. “This is my first day off since I ended up in this godforsaken place.”
I peeked in Isabel’s direction. I’d expected her to have a rabbit-face-to-face-with-a-hunter expression. Instead she showed as much emotion as a blank wall. It was almost like she’d disconnected from her body and the situation.
I nudged her gently toward one of the chairs, and she obediently sat. I took the other one.
When I’d dealt with former Chief Wilson and Chief McTavish, I’d settled in and crossed my legs to let them know I wasn’t leaving until I got results. I’d been almost cocky.
All the instincts I’d developed for dealing with police officers and prosecuting attorneys while working alongside my parents told me I needed to take the opposite tactic with Detective Dillion.
I demurely crossed my ankles and folded my hands in my lap. “I know that you’re here in part to figure out what happened to Chief McTavish. I knew you’d want any information, even if it came from me. Or if I was the one to find a witness.”
Detective Dillion dropped his coat and scarf on the desk. He leaned one elbow on the back of his chair. “I also know a lot about you. Bringing me information to help in the search for Owen McTavish won’t earn your fiancé any special favors.”
For a second I thought I felt Isabel’s gaze on me, but when I looked in her direction, she was staring at the legs of the desk.
I couldn’t let Detective Dillion cast doubt on my motives. “I expect you to investigate Troy Summoner’s murder thoroughly and without bias. But I’m also hoping when you hear her statement, you’ll reconsider allowing Mark to look at the case file for Chief Zacharius’ death. We’re willing to do it here in your office with you watching us the whole time.”
Detective Dillion cursed. “What is it with you and that file? Fine.” He yanked out his chair and dropped into it. He pulled out a pen and pad of paper. “Name?”
Isabel’s body stayed glacier-still, but she tilted her chin up. “Anonymous.”
Detective Dillion didn’t audibly sigh at her, but it was in his every expression as he brought the pen away from the page. “If you’re not willing to give your name, how can I be sure you’re not making this up? Did she pay you off?”
“The reason I won’t give my name is also the reason I saw what happened to the missing police chief.”
His pen touched down again. “I’m listening.”
“My husband beat me regularly for years. The only way I could escape him was to disappear entirely. I can’t even put my name on an apartment lease for fear he’ll find me. So I sleep in my truck. That’s why I was in the parking lot the night someone in a police cruiser tasered another man and dragged him away.”
Detective Dillion’s pen slipped across the page. He set it down. “You’re sure the kidnapper was the one in the cruiser?”
Isabel nodded.
“Could you describe either man?”
“Their heights. A little about their clothes, maybe.” She shook her head. “It was dark.”
“Can you describe the other vehicle?”
Isabel might not recognize the question for what it was, but I did. He was testing her. If she described a car that wasn’t McTavish’s, or if she described a generic vehicle that could have fit hundreds of cars in Fair Haven alone, Detective Dillion would discount her whole story.
Isabel gave her description in an eerily calm voice.
The car she described matched what I remembered about Chief McTavish’s personal vehicle. I didn’t remember his license plate number, but she gave the first three places. Detective Dillion would no doubt check the first chance he got.
