of time for the drugs in his food to have killed him. You punched through the window to open the latch on the inside of his door, even though a few seconds more would have been enough time for the nurse to have arrived with the key. But you had to, Casey, because punching through that window was the only way to scatter that bottle of pills into the room, to make a homicide look like a suicide.”
Casey blurted out a laugh.
“His mother’s already been arrested and charged for the murder.”
“Daniel’s mother was released from custody the moment I got back to the station. I just had her arrested because that’s what you were hoping for, ain’t that right?” Casey swallowed thickly as Tyrell spoke. “You’re on the same anxiety medication that Daniel was, aren’t you? I’m guessin’ that you figure there’ll be no way for us to prove your guilt as you picked up the bottle of pills in the room, which nullifies the fact that your prints are on it.”
“I sure did,” Casey smirked. “Ain’t got nothin’ there.”
“Sure I do. Daniel Neville was taking his medication at a daily twenty-five-milligram dose, but he died of an overdose of two-hundred-milligram pills,” Tyrell said smoothly. “You had to use them of course, because it’s surprisingly hard to kill someone using those kinds of medications. Thing is, Casey, you forgot that the different pills are different colors.”
Casey stared at Tyrell for a moment and licked his lips.
“Ain’t nothin’ that I’d know about. I’m just a cleaner.”
Tyrell hefted himself off the sofa and looked down at Casey.
“You were on the stand for a locked-room homicide twenty years ago, your own mother’s suspicious overdose, but that time the prosecution didn’t see through it. Who put you up to it, Casey? Kelvin Patterson? Your brother?”
Casey bolted upright to his feet, towering over Tyrell.
“They got nothin’ to do with this!”
“They used you, Casey,” Tyrell said, standing his ground. “They’ve always used you.”
“You’re settin’ me up!” Casey wailed. “They tol’ me you would.”
“They made you kill your own mother. Are they the kind of people you trust, Casey?”
“Shut up, they ain’t usin’ me!”
“I can help you, Casey,” Tyrell offered, fingering the can of pepper spray in his pocket. “But I can’t do anything unless you’re straight with me.”
Casey’s eyes danced crazily as though looking for an escape. His huge hands gripped each other in desperation.
“They ain’t been usin’ me,” Casey uttered, halfway between a threat and a plea. His blue eyes welled with trembling tears. “The pastor’s my pa.”
“No, Casey, Bradley Stone was your pa. Kelvin Patterson’s a man who has arranged murders, and you’re the man he’s put in the dock for committing them.”
Casey shook his head, his voice strained with grief. “He’s all I’ve got.”
Tyrell belatedly realized the depth of Casey’s attachment to Kelvin Patterson.
“The police are searching for a murderer but I believe that you’ve been manipulated by Patterson. If you just tell me what—”
“The police ain’t interested in me!” Casey snapped with sudden vigor.
“They sure are, and there’s—”
“You’ve been suspended from duty, Mr. Tyrell.”
Tyrell blinked, feeling suddenly dizzy. “How the hell would you know that?”
Casey’s mouth twisted into an angry grimace. “Ain’t none o’ your business.”
Shit. A dawning realization began creeping upon Tyrell like a dark and ominous wave as it rushed toward shore, and he knew it was going to swallow him whole. Someone on the force? Cain? Lopez?
“I think that you’re hiding something and you should tell me what it is,” he uttered. “You need to cooperate with us, Casey.”
“There ain’t no us!” Casey shouted, jabbing a thick finger in Tyrell’s face. “I ain’t goin’ to jail. You’re here on your own an’ there ain’t nobody left to help you now, you black motherfu—”
Tyrell whipped the can of pepper spray from his pocket and shoved it into Casey’s face, squeezing the button hard. A thick hiss of vapor blasted the Texan and he staggered backward with a cry of panic, clawing at his face.
Tyrell stepped in, lifting one foot and smashing it sideways into Casey’s knee joint. Blinded and off balance, the Texan crashed onto the thickly carpeted floor with a strained rush of expletives as Tyrell turned to get away.
Casey’s thick hand latched onto Tyrell’s arm like a vice, the Texan swearing and shouting as he swung a wild punch. Tyrell ducked the blow before dropping deftly and driving the point of one knee down hard into Casey’s plexus. The Texan’s swearing gave way to a sharp, strangled intake