Prodigal Son(73)

I nodded and clung to her arm, realizing that I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since the fruit and coffee that morning. The Ritz seemed like a lifetime ago.

***

I finished the last of the orange juice in the styrofoam cup and set it on the table in front of me. The peanut butter crackers and juice that the cop had brought me had leveled out my blood sugar and made me feel much better, physically, anyway. Looking around the room, I wondered how long the police planned to keep me, and I wondered when I’d be able to see Luke.

The door opened and a man and a woman entered the room. I hadn’t met either of them, and they were both dressed in suits, rather than police uniforms.

“Krystal, I’m Special Agent Kate Tanner with the FBI,” the woman said, as she sat down across from me. “Sounds like you’ve had quite a day.” She smiled at me sympathetically, and I instinctively felt like she was a person I could trust.

“I’m Mark Singer, DEA,” the man said as he set a cup of coffee in front of me, along with packets of sugar and creamer. “I know you’ve answered a lot of questions, but we have a few more for you, if you feel up to it.”

I shook my head, confused. “Where’s Luke?”

“We have him here, and we have some folks talking to him. There are some questions we need answers to, and we think he can give us a hand with that.”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “I’ve told the police everything I know. Why are the FBI and the DEA here, too?”

Kate leaned forward. “Krystal, I know you’ve been through a lot, but if you will help us out, we’ll get you out of here as quick as we can.”

I was frustrated, and I sighed. “If I answer your questions, can I see Luke?”

“Absolutely,” she answered.

I felt like we spent four hours in that bleak room, but it was probably closer to one hour. They took turns asking me a whole bunch of questions about how long Luke had been in town, what he’d done for a living in Arizona, how he’d gotten hooked up with the Savage Sons, and what his plans for the future were. They also asked a bunch of questions about how well I’d known Moses and if I’d ever traveled to Mexico with him. The questions came in what felt like a completely random order, and I could only answer about half of them, but I was completely honest. I didn’t see any reason not to be. The weird thing was that most of the questions didn’t have anything to do with any kind of criminal activity, and not a one of them had anything to do with Bug’s death.

By the time we were wrapping up, I’d decided that I liked and trusted Kate, but I wasn’t at all sure that I would trust Mark as far as I could throw him. I looked at Kate as she reviewed her notes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” she answered, with an expression that said she’d be completely open with me.

“What does all of this have to do with Bug’s death?”

She looked over at Mark and back at me. “Krystal, I’m going to be completely honest with you. Probably nothing.”

“Then why…”

She held her hand up to stop me. “There’s not a lot I can tell you, but it’s possible that Luke may have some information we need with regard to some other, probably unrelated investigations. We’ve found that the best way to get that information is to ask lots of questions, even if we’re not sure how — or even if — someone’s involved.”

I was starting to feel frustrated. “Well, that tells me a whole lot of nothing.”

Mark stood up. “We appreciate you taking the time to talk to us.” He walked to the door and waited for Kate.

She put her hand over mine. “Krystal, I’ll go see what I can do about getting you in to see Luke.”





Chapter 33


Luke


By the time the door opened and Krystal rushed into the room, I’d been at the police station for nearly eight hours. Eight hours of incessant questions, threats, and a whole lot of confusion on my part.

Krystal didn’t even seem to notice the other person in the room as she crossed the room and threw her arms around me. “Luke, my God it’s so good to see you. Are you okay?”

I held her face in my hands. “Am I okay? I can’t even believe you’re asking that. The last time I saw you, you were covered in blood and on a stretcher. Tell me how you’re doing.”

“I’ll be fine. No stitches, and they don’t even think the scarring will be bad as long as I’m careful.” Krystal finally realized that there was someone else in the room with us, and she looked at me, questions in her eyes.

“Krystal, this is Bryan Boyd, my attorney.”