فصل 09 - بخش 01

9

No one in the unmarked said anything else until they turned into the police station lot and parked in one of the spaces marked OFFICIAL VEHICLES ONLY. Then Ralph turned to survey the man who had coached his son. Terry Maitland’s Dragons cap had been knocked slightly askew, so it sat in a kind of gangsta twist. His Dragons tee-shirt had come untucked on one side, and his face was streaked with sweat. In that moment he looked guilty as hell. Except, maybe, for his eyes, which met Ralph’s dead-on. They were wide and silently accusing.

Ralph had a question that couldn’t wait. ‘Why him, Terry? Why Frankie Peterson? Was he on the Lions Little League team this year? Did you have your eye on him? Or was it just a crime of opportunity?’

Terry opened his mouth to reiterate his denial, but what was the point? Ralph wasn’t going to listen, at least not yet. None of them were. Better to wait. That was hard, but it might save time in the end.

‘Go on,’ Ralph said. He spoke softly, conversationally. ‘You wanted to talk before, so talk now. Tell me. Make me understand. Right here, before we even get out of this car.’

‘I think I’ll wait for my lawyer,’ Terry said.

‘If you’re innocent,’ Yates said, ‘you don’t need one. Put a pin in this, if you can. We’ll even give you a ride home.’

Still looking into Ralph Anderson’s eyes, Terry spoke almost too softly to hear. ‘This is bad behavior. You never even checked on where I might have been on Tuesday, did you? I wouldn’t have thought it of you.’ He paused, as if thinking, then said: ‘You bastard.’

Ralph had no intention of telling Terry that he had discussed that with Samuels, but not for long. It was a small town. They hadn’t wanted to start asking questions that could get back to Maitland. ‘This was a rare case where we didn’t need to check.’ Ralph opened his door. ‘Come on. Let’s get you booked and printed and photographed before your lawyer gets h—’

‘Terry! Terry!’

Instead of taking Ralph’s advice, Marcy Maitland had followed the police car from the field in her Toyota. Jamie Mattingly, a neighbor, had stepped up and taken Sarah and Grace to her house. Both girls had been crying. Jamie had been, too.

‘Terry, what are they doing? What should I be doing?’

He twisted momentarily free of Yates, who had him by the arm. ‘Call Howie!’

It was all he had time for. Ramage opened the door marked POLICE PERSONNEL ONLY and Yates hustled Terry inside, none too gently, with a hand planted in the middle of his back.

Ralph stayed behind for a moment, holding the door. ‘Go home, Marcy,’ he said. ‘Go before the news people get there.’ He almost added I’m sorry about this, and didn’t. Because he wasn’t. Betsy Riggins and the State Police would be waiting for her, but it was still the best thing she could do. The only thing, really. And maybe he owed her. For her girls, certainly – they were the true innocents in all of this – but also …

This is bad behavior. I wouldn’t have expected it of you.

There was no reason for Ralph to feel guilty at the reproach of a man who had raped and murdered a child, but for a moment he still did. Then he thought of the crime scene pictures, photos so ugly you almost wished you were blind. He thought of the branch sticking out of the little boy’s rectum. He thought of a bloody mark on smooth wood. Smooth because the hand that left the print had shoved down so hard it had peeled the bark away.

Bill Samuels had made two simple points. Ralph had agreed, and so had Judge Carter, to whom Samuels had gone for the various warrants. First, it was a slam-dunk. There was no sense waiting when they already had everything they needed. Second, if they gave Terry time, he might take off, and then they’d have to find him before he found another Frank Peterson to rape and murder.