Justice(90)

I sit next to Chip for the show. Wish I had some popcorn. This is going to be good.

On the monitor Logan wipes a tear away with his stump. If he hadn’t tried to kill me, I’d feel bad for the kid. He’s facing a life behind bars if the psycho who spews blood doesn’t get him first. Not an enviable position.

Cam and Harry step in, both sporting scowls that would frighten the blind. Cam slams the door shut as hard as he can, jolting Logan out of his pity party. A calm Harry sits, but Cam picks up the chair and smashes it back down, freaking the man again. He’ll be peeing his pants in a few minutes. Glaring, Cam leans back in his chair and folds his arms.

“This is Lt. Harold O’Hara and Det. Terrance Cameron with Logan Dodd. It is Wednesday, May twenty-third, at 2:56 pm,” Harry says. “Mr. Dodd, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of a police officer and accessory to first degree murder. Have you been read and understand your rights?”

“Yes,” he says quietly.

“Do you wish to have an attorney present for questioning?”

“N—No,” he almost whispers.

“Speak the fuck up!” Cam says.

“I said I don’t want a lawyer,” he says, glancing at Cam. “You—you’re going to protect me, right? Me and my mom?”

“That depends on what you can tell us,” Harry says. “You cooperate and the DA should take that fact under advisement. No promises, though. You helped a serial killer escape, who then raped and killed an entire family. Then you shot at a police officer who is near and dear to my heart. If it was up to me, I’d string you up on Pendergast Bridge myself and let him have you.”

So much for being objective. Cam nods in agreement. “You’ll be lucky if we give you a spoon to paddle up shit creek.”

“So start talking. When were you first in contact with James Ryder?” Harry asks.

“I only met him once or twice when I was a kid. About every three months, there’d be a grand in cash in our mailbox. Mom said it was from James, for my father being such a good soldier and her lying to the police when he was killed. She just said the other man used to be her boyfriend to keep James’ name out of it. I saw him around the Ward before he became, you know, Alkaline. We only spoke to him twice, once when I was eight and Mom dragged me over to thank him. The second was when I was eleven and he happened to be in the same store. He bought me a magazine.”

“When did he reach out again?” Cam asks.

“He didn’t,” Logan says. “I was having a hard time finding a job. I guess it got around the neighborhood because about a year ago this guy, Mike Spencer, approached me on the street. He said he might have a job for me.”

“Mike Spencer, one of Alkaline’s old lieutenants?” Cam asks.

“Yeah.” And the mystery of Mike Spencer’s death is solved. Ryder had him killed to shut him up. “I’d tried to join the organization a couple times, but Mom made sure they wouldn’t accept me. I was so excited when they asked, I forgot to ask what the job was. About a week later, Mike called me in. Said his connection inside the prison was quitting and they needed someone else to look after James.”

“Did he give the name of the man you were replacing?” Harry asks.

“No, but it had to be Denny Darcy because all the guys said how sad they were when he quit.”

“What happened next?” Harry asks.

“I filled out the application, and it was pushed right through. I think they had someone inside to help with that, but I don’t know who.”

“What did they have you do?” Cam asks.

“Stupid stuff. Pass notes back and forth. When I could, just talk to him. And once a week give him some pills. That’s it.”

“Who gave you the pills? Mike?” Harry asks.

“No. After I got hired, I never saw him again.”

“The notes you passed, who were they to?” Cam asks.

“Jane Smith at a P.O. Box in town. He’d give them to me sealed and I’d just stamp and mail them. Then Jane would mail hers to my apartment, sometimes with the pills. I never opened the letters. I was under strict orders not to.”

“How much were they paying you?” Cam asks.

“Two grand a month in cash on top of my salary. James told me not to put it in my bank account or make big purchases.”

“How considerate of him,” Cam says.

“Do you remember the P.O. Box number?” Harry asks.

“Um, it had a one and a seven.”

“Did you keep any of the envelopes your payments came in?” Harry asks.

“Maybe. All my cash is hidden in the Bible in my duffel bag.”