attention from her notepad when she questioned Dawson.
"No, it wasn't it. It wasn’t a smart phone, like she has. It looked like my pay-as-you-go phone." Dawson sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.
"What did you say to Samuel?"
"What she told me to say."
"Which was?"
"She told me to say I slipped away, and could he meet me at the warehouse at the end of Livingston Avenue, down by the docks. I told him go to the back and come inside. I was afraid she'd track me down. I told him not to tell anyone where we were meeting."
"Then what happened?"
“Over in the corner of the place, she and some man argued. The words echoed around, and I couldn't tell what they were talking about, but she was pissed for a long time. Finally, she must have gotten her way because she laughed and said, 'Deal.' She threw her keys at me and told me to get fucking lost and stay lost until she found me."
"What did the man look like?"
"I don't know. I couldn't see him too good. He stayed in the shadows."
"Was he tall? Could you tell by the way he talked if he was from the local area? Did he have an accent?" Brock peppered the guy with questions.
Dawson shifted slightly and winced. "He was maybe five-ten, six foot. Cynthia had to look way up at him. He talked like a smart person. Proper speaking and shit."
"Did he sound young or old?" Kallie tried to get more information.
"I don't know, but I would recognize his voice if I heard it again."
"Okay, what happened then?"
"I left."
Brock cleared his throat and continued the interview, "What time was that?"
"I don't know, but I saw Sam's car when I got onto the freeway. He was going the other direction and taking the off ramp onto Livingston."
"What car was he driving?"
"The red one. The sports car. It’s a..." Dawson shook his head. "I think he called it a McLaren. I don't know much about fancy cars. I'm not a gear head, but once you see that car, you know it."
Brock nodded. "What happened then?"
"I went to Fire and Ice and met up with some of my friends."
Kallie held up a finger, stopping Dawson. "What time was that?"
"9:00. They rang the late-night happy hour bell as I was walking in." Dawson sniffed and shook his head. "She killed him, didn't she?"
Neither she nor Brock responded to his question. Instead, she asked, "Did you see any vehicle besides the one you and Cynthia were driving?"
"No, but then again I didn't look around. She was really mad on the way out, you know? She kept muttering that the bastard couldn't do that to her. She kept saying he was cheating her. She was ranting about money. It makes me a fucking pussy, but I just didn't want her to start on me again. I shut up and kept my eyes on the floor. If she saw me looking anywhere else, she... I just didn't want to risk it."
Brock interjected, "And when you left?"
"I just got in the car and went, man. I didn't know why they wanted me to call Sam down to the warehouse, you know." He wiped his cheeks slowly, but deliberately. "Fuck, did I ever find out why they wanted me to do it. She said to keep my mouth shut if I wanted to live."
"Why were you beaten?" Kallie asked since he was talking and cooperative.
He shrugged. "I guess 'cause I told her I was going to call you. I took that card you gave her. She threw it in the garbage after you left. I should have known I was in a world of hurt."
"Why's that?" Brock looked up from his notebook.
"She wasn't mad. She was nice. She agreed we needed to tell you what we knew. She said that we'd see you, together. She told me to go home and wait for her but had me run the last drop off before I went home. He was there when I walked in."
"Did you see who it was?"
"No. I was hit as soon as I went in. All I saw was that bat."
"Did he say anything to you?"
"He said to keep my mouth shut. I thought he was going to kill me." Dawson sniffed again, not bothering to wipe the tears this time. "It would have been better if he'd finished the job."
She turned the interview back to questions and not emotions. "Dawson, did you call in sick from work this