Jon Talton - Powers of Arrest

“Liked what?”

He cleared his throat. “She enjoyed being handcuffed and, well, taken. She got off on a rape fantasy. The rougher the better. This was what she wanted, understand? Sometimes she wanted to be blindfolded. Sometimes she wanted… Why the hell am I telling you all this?”

“So you don’t have to explain it to your wife,” Will said.

“She wanted me to call her a little slut who deserved it. A cunt. Those were her words, not mine. She wanted to be choked, but I wouldn’t do it.”

“Did you ever role-play with her using a knife?”

“God, no!” His reaction seemed genuine.

Will asked if he owned a knife.

“A knife? Like kitchen knives?”

“A combat knife. A pocket knife?”

“No, detective. I haven’t had a pocket knife since I was a Boy Scout.”

“She had other lovers, you say. Did this make you angry.”

“Sure,” he said without hesitation. “Wouldn’t you be angry?”

“Did you fight over it?”

“Some.” He ran a hand over hair that no longer existed. “But, hell, I was very attracted to her. We kept on until I broke it off. I didn’t want to run the risk of taking some S.T.D. home. Anyway, other men made things…complicated. I needed her discretion.”

“So it made you angry, her playing around.”

“Yes, it did,” he said, without irony.

“When you fought, did you call her a little slut who was deserved it and a cunt? Did you ever hit her?”

His face struggled to maintain its composure. “No. She was promiscuous. She liked sex. She was a television star with lots of opportunities.”

“Any idea who these other men were?”

He shook his head.

Will had a few more routine questions. When was the last time he had been intimate with her? In March. But they had talked since then; he had admitted as much. He said she had called him at his office several weeks ago, he couldn’t be precise, asking if he wanted to come by. He had declined.

“And why were you calling her Saturday?” Will asked.

“I missed her,” he said. “She was a very passionate woman. And remember, we’re talking off the record. I’m nothing more than a cooperating citizen, trying to be helpful to the police. You haven’t even read me my rights.”

Will paused. “I’ll only do that if you’re a suspect.”

“Then I’ll ruin your life, detective.” He said it calmly, at the end of a pointed finger, his face set, but the tendons in his neck visible with tension. “I’ll sue your department for harassment. I’ll have your badge. I’ll get a settlement that will drive this city into bankruptcy. I’ll fuck you over, Borders.” He opened the door and stood.

“Oh, Mr. Buchanan…”

He stuck his head back in, the same look of barely suppressed rage on his face.

“What?”

“Seems like you have an anger-management issue, sir. That makes you seem less like a cooperating citizen and more like a suspect. And even if I can’t place you on that boat Sunday morning, I’ll check your alibi. Very indiscreetly, if you get me. Then I have a lot of ways to let your partners know about your little hidden life. And what you think about Elder and Moeller. They won’t like any of it, especially that last part. So be careful I don’t fuck you over. How does that make you feel, counselor?”

Will stuffed down his own anger as the door slammed hard and Kenneth Buchanan stalked over to a new Mercedes Benz. It was amazing, watching this man walk fast with no effort, no thought to it at all.

He started the car and his phone rang. It was Diane Henderson.

“How’s the lawyer?”

“Pissed and full of threats.” Will gave her the rundown.

“Do you like him for this?”

“I don’t dislike him,” Will said. “He claims he’s got an alibi, but my gut says he’s hiding something.”

“Trust your gut. They were lovers. They broke up. She was seeing other men. Jealousy is a great motive.”

“He’s got powerful connections. He called the chief.”

“And what did the chief tell you?”

“Handle with care.”

“I have some news,” she said. “Crime scene found some hairs that didn’t belong to Gruber. And they have a partial shoeprint.”

After she hung up, he realized he was an hour late taking his Baclofen. He dry swallowed the white pill. Only the realization that he had missed the dose caused the right quads to get angry. He hadn’t felt any discomfort during his confrontation with Kenneth Buchanan.

Such a strange thing, this mind-body connection.

She left home and flew down Ravine Street, her favorite in the city. It inclined down the hill toward downtown at a steep angle, offering splendid views. Then she drove out Madison to the Joseph-Beth Bookstore in Rookwood Pavilion. It was this or spend the afternoon in her closet agonizing over what to wear tonight when she went out with Will Borders. A short skirt wouldn’t do, but neither would pants. Men liked her legs. But she didn’t want to come off wrong on a first date. It was a date, right? Cheryl Beth hadn’t been on a real date in a very long time. Maybe on the way home she would get a pedicure.

She was turning the corner of the poetry section when she almost ran straight on into Noah Smith.

“I’m sorry I gave you a start,” he said.

It was true. Her heart rate was still over one-fifty when she asked him what he was doing there.

“I was released this morning. Brooks sure didn’t like it.”

Noah looked gaunt and pale, but still handsome in khakis and a blue long-sleeved shirt. His big smile that must have attracted the girls was gone. “The truth is, I followed you.”

Pulse back up. “You what? You know where I live? How do you know where I live?”

“You can find things on the Internet.”

She took another step back. “Now you’re really creeping me out.”

“You don’t…” He stepped closer and this time she held her ground. “You can’t think I had anything to do with Lauren and Holly getting killed.”

“Keep your voice down.”

“I want to come back to class,” he whispered.

She told him all the ways that would be a bad idea, impossible even. She couldn’t imagine having him as student right now, and the university had suspended him pending the investigation.

She looked around. The store was crowded even on a Wednesday afternoon. She was safe. Except for the fact that he knew where she lived.

“I need to graduate. I need to get a job.”

“I can’t fix that, Noah. You can’t take the NCLEX until you’re cleared of this, anyway.” The national licensing examinations.

“Cheryl Beth, I need something to do. To keep my mind off this. Brooks is going to do everything he can to put me in prison for something I did not do.” His eyes were suddenly older, exhausted.

“What happened out there that night, Noah?”

“I keep trying to remember.” He carefully touched the back of his head. “They said I had a mild concussion, but I keep having headaches. It still burns where they used the Taser on me, and I don’t feel right. It’s hard to keep it all in my head.”

“You screamed something like ‘hostiles! I have wounded!’ What were you thinking?”

He leaned his hands against a shelve and stared at the floor. “I don’t remember. Sometimes, after my deployments, I have flashbacks…”

He seemed sincere. But she pressed on: “Did you have a knife with you that night?”

“No!”

“But you were in the Army, right? You’re good with a knife.”

“That doesn’t mean I would kill those girls. I was crazy about them.”

“Nothing but an an innocent boy from Corbin, Kentucky,” she said.