drugs. I’m sorry about that, I really am. I met him, and he’s got charm. But the closer I look, the less I like what I see. Something hasn’t been right about this little corner of the world for a long time. Dirty cops. Impossible cases. And, of course, the evidence is what it is: we’ve got his prints all over those drugs, and until somebody has a better explanation, I’ve got to go with what the evidence tells you. Right now, the evidence tells me that he and his partner had a lot of drugs.”
“He’s been framed.”
“I should have said, until somebody can offer a better explanation with evidence,” Park said with a small smile.
“It wouldn’t have been hard. Dulac spent a lot of time with him. Were some of the drugs in plastic baggies? It would have been easy to collect ones that John discarded, save them, and later fill them with cocaine and heroin.”
“With evidence,” Park repeated. “At this point, we don’t have any reason to believe you were involved. I know small towns; I know rumors float around. Something doesn’t smell right about how you left the force, but I’m not going to jump in with Riggle and believe all those stories are true. But as Ms. Thompson will remind you later, anything you do at this point to help your fiancé or Detective Dulac makes you an accessory after the fact.”
“You don’t have Dulac in custody?”
“The more important consideration right now, Mr. Hazard, and the reason I wanted to talk to you, is certain items were also found at Detective Dulac’s apartment. Not just the drugs. Men’s underwear. Soaked in blood. They were hidden in the freezer, carefully vacuum packed. Three pairs. We’re still getting samples analyzed, but I’m pretty sure they’ll match Phil Camerata, Rory Engels, and Mitchell Martin.”
Hazard tried to clear his throat and couldn’t. Thompson must have noticed because she passed him a bottle of water, and Hazard drank and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
“If you think John had something to do with the Keeper killings, that’s impossible. I know him. It’s impossible; there’s no other way to say it.”
“Sometimes the people we’re closest to are the ones we see the least clearly.”
“He was with me the night Susan Morrison was killed. He didn’t leave the bed.”
“You were awake the whole time?”
“No, but I would have heard him leave.”
Park’s cool, pitying gaze made Hazard’s face heat.
“We’re currently working with several theories,” Park said.
“Why do you need theories? You’ve already got Wesley. Christ, I still cannot believe Riggle convinced the county attorney to file charges. Was Daley drunk when she agreed to prosecute a man without having any evidence?”
Park seemed to ignore this; she said, “One of our theories is that the Keeper killings are actually the work of two individuals.”
That had been one of Hazard’s theories too. He tried to take another drink, thought he might puke if he did, and fumbled with the cap for a few seconds. He couldn’t get it in place, so he thumped the bottle onto the table; his other hand had curled so tightly around the cap that he could feel it biting into his palm.
“I have reason to believe Detective Dulac is the Keeper,” Hazard said. “And reason to believe that he’s framing John because he has a sick obsession with him.”
For the first time since entering the room, Park shifted in her seat. She looked like she was being pulled up on string, her whole body upright and taut and aimed at Hazard.
He told her: Dulac’s obsession with Somers, his unexplained disappearance, the PIN on the computer, the search results, and finding Kleinheider dead, with Dulac’s business card on the ground next to him. Thompson interjected from time to time, weaving a web of protective allegedly and might have and it is possible that around Hazard’s statements.
Hazard had barely finished when Park shot out of her seat, moving toward the door. She was already pulling out her phone, tapping at the screen.
“That clears John, right?” Hazard said. “He didn’t have anything to do with that stuff.”
“The best thing you can do for your fiancé right now, Mr. Hazard, is convince him to surrender himself. If he comes in, we can protect him, and we can get to the bottom of this. If he stays out there—well, there are a lot of ways things can go wrong.” She held the phone to her ear as she left the interview room, already