a mini-fridge. "Anybody want a drink?" she asked.
They didn't reply. Thurston shrugged, grabbed a bottle, began to shake it. "How about you, Adam? You want something?"
"Just a water."
She tossed him a bottle.
"Ed? Loren?"
They both shook their heads. Joan Thurston twisted off the cap and took a deep sip. She moved back in front of her desk.
"Okay, time to stop the dance," Thurston said. "What else have you learned, Loren?"
Loren. Already calling her Loren. Again she checked with Steinberg. Again he nodded.
"We found several connections between all of this and an ex-con named Matt Hunter," Loren said.
Thurston's eyes narrowed. "Why does that name ring a bell?"
"He's local, from Livingston. His case made the papers years back. He got into a fight at a college party-"
"Oh, right, I remember," Thurston interrupted. "I knew his brother Bernie. Good lawyer, died much too young. I think Bernie got him a job at Carter Sturgis when he got out."
"Matt Hunter still works there."
"And he's involved in this?"
"There are connections."
"Such as?"
She told them about the phone call from St. Margaret's to Marsha Hunter's residence. They did not seem all that impressed. When Loren started filling them in on what she'd learned this very night- that Matt Hunter had, in all likelihood, gotten into a fight with Charles Talley at the Howard Johnson's- they sat up. For the first time Yates started jotting notes in the leather pad.
When she finished, Thurston asked, "So what do you make of it, Loren?"
"Truth? I don't have a clue yet."
"We should look at this guy Hunter's time in prison," Yates said. "We know Talley was in the system too. Maybe they met along the way. Or maybe Hunter somehow got involved with Comb-Over's people."
"Right," Thurston said. "Could be that Hunter is the one cleaning up the loose ends for Comb-Over."
Loren kept quiet.
"You don't agree, Loren?"
"I don't know."
"What's the problem?"
"This may sound hopelessly naive, but I don't think Matt Hunter is working as some kind of hit man. He has a record, yes, but that's from a fight at a frat party fifteen years ago. He had no priors and has been clean ever since."
She did not tell him that they'd gone to school together or that her "gut" didn't like it. When other investigators used that rationale, Loren wanted to gag.
"So how do you explain Hunter's involvement?" Thurston asked.
"I don't know. It might be a more personal thing. According to the front-desk guy, his wife was staying at the hotel without him."
"You think it's a lovers' quarrel?"
"It could be."
Thurston looked doubtful. "Either way, we all agree that Matt Hunter is involved?"
Steinberg said, "Definitely." Yates nodded hard. Loren stayed still.
"And right now," Thurston continued, "we have more than enough to arrest and indict. We have the fight, the call, all that. We'll get DNA soon linking him to the dead man."
Loren hesitated. Ed Steinberg did not. "We got enough to arrest."
"And with Hunter's record, we can probably get a no-bail situation. We can put him in the system and keep him there for a little while, right, Ed?"
"I'd bet on it, yeah," Steinberg said.
"Pick him up then," Joan Thurston said. "Let's get Hunter's ass back behind bars pronto."
Chapter 35
MATT AND OLIVIA were alone in Marsha's guest room.
Nine years ago Matt had spent his first night as a free man in this room. Bernie had brought him home. Marsha had been outwardly polite, but looking back on it, there must have been some serious reservations. You move into a house like this to escape people like Matt. Even if you know he's innocent, even if you think he's a good guy and got a bad break, you don't want your life enmeshed with his. He is a virus, a carrier of something malevolent. You have children. You want to protect them. You want to believe, as Lance Banner did, that the manicured lawns can keep this element out.
He thought about his old college buddy Duff. At one time Matt had believed that Duff was tough. Now he knew better. Now he could kick Duff's ass around the corner without breaking a sweat. He wasn't being boastful. He didn't think that with any pride. It was just a fact of life. His buddies who thought they were tough- the Duffs of the world- man, they had no idea.
But tough as Matt had become, he'd spent his first night of freedom in this room crying. He couldn't exactly say why. He had never cried in prison. Some would say that he simply feared showing weakness