is Chief Deputy Max Anderson. I have Police Chief Clara Jefferies with me. We need to talk to you.”
The voice that came from the trailer was surly, condescending, and I thought I heard fear hidden deep within it. Maybe Mullins’ threats had hit their mark. “Did that deranged cop put his rifle away?” Carl asked.
Mullins stared at the trailer door, and I saw his rifle edging higher, on its way to his initial position. I put my hand on top of the barrel. At first, Mullins resisted, but then he allowed me to gradually push it down until the barrel pointed at the ground. “Give it to me,” I ordered. Mullins held tight but shrank back, as I said, “I’m sorry about Laurel. If it’s Carl, we’ll get him. But right now, give me your weapon.”
“You better keep your eyes on that man,” Mullins warned. “You and Max can’t trust him.”
“We’ll watch him,” I said. “Now, give me your rifle.”
Mullins hesitated, but then handed it over. I put my gun in my holster and held the rifle up, aimed it at the door. When I did, Mullins turned away from me, I hoped satisfied that we were in control. He again glued his attention on the trailer.
“Detective Mullins has relinquished his rifle,” Max said. “Now it’s your turn. Carl, if you’re holding a weapon, put it down. Come out slow and easy, hands in the air.”
“I don’t have any gun. I know the damn drill,” Carl shouted. I felt a bit of surprise that he’d volunteer the next bit of information. “Shit, I’ve done this before.”
“Then you ought to be good at it,” Max called out. “Follow instructions and come out here. We need to talk to you.”
For a moment, silence, then the thin metal door cracked open. The man who stood in the doorway was a big, bulky guy with messy dark brown hair and a broad face, a high forehead and a stunted chin. His heavy work boots rattled the trailer’s tinny drop-down steps as he made his way to the ground, hands empty and held high.
The moment Carl’s feet touched earth, Mullins rushed forward.
“Detective Mullins, stop!” I shouted. Max and I ran after him, but not quickly enough. Mullins, a foot or so shorter, gripped Carl by the collar of his plaid flannel shirt and started twisting it as if to strangle him. Carl grabbed at Mullins’ hands, attempting to peel them off, but Mullins was surprisingly strong. I held the rifle on the two of them and ordered, “Detective Mullins, move back!”
Mullins had a death lock on that shirt collar, tightening it like a noose, while Carl took one of his massive hands and pulled it back, preparing to deliver a blow to Mullins’ face. I shouted again. “Carl, stop. Don’t hit him! Mullins, damn it, I ordered you to move back!”
Carl appeared ready to strike, but Mullins finally did as I instructed and let go. He looked as if something deep inside him had taken control, something that wanted more than anything to kill the man before him. But he did as I’d demanded and took two steps back. “Goddamn it, Chief, this guy killed my daughter, I’m telling you. Killed my Laurel.”
Carl was coughing and pulling his shirt down, straightening his collar, the color of his face starting to slowly return to normal. A deadpan look on his face, Carl said, “Laurel’s dead?”
“Hands up, Carl,” I ordered. “Get them back up.”
“What about the others?” His voice hoarse from the choking, he appeared stunned but slowly raised his hands above his head. “Jacob? Anna? The kids? Are they okay?”
“Where were you this morning?” I asked.
“Here at the trailer,” he said. “I was just getting up when this—”
“Anyone see you here? Anyone here with you?” Max asked.
Carl appeared confused, looked from one to the other of us. “Shit, no. I live here alone. You think I did this?”
That, apparently, was more than Mullins could tolerate, because he jumped forward, tackled Carl, and they fell to the ground. I held the rifle on them, while Max shouted at the top of his lungs, “Mullins, get the hell off that man!”
They rolled, Mullins on top. Carl on top. Another turn around, one up, the other down, and Max put his boot on Mullins’ leg and pushed hard, until he screamed.
“Damn it!” Max shouted. “Mullins, cut it—”
It happened in a single heartbeat. Carl’s hand came up holding a 9mm, one I surmised Mullins must have had tucked into his