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CHAPTER 35
Sam sat in the interview chair with a strip of tissue wadded and stuffed up his nose. Pieces of grass stuck to his beard. He was still cuffed. “Police brutality. You had no reason—”
“You ran.”
“I thought you were after me.”
“We were.” Dean locked his fingers together.
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t. Help me out. A police car shows up and you run. And I’ve seen what’s inside your house.” Dean, Zach, and Etheridge had waited on the warrant before entering to find a cache of weapons: pistols, rifles, shotguns, submachine guns. Plus several pounds of meth wrapped in plastic. Dean placed photos in front of Sam. “So you usually want to shoot any officer that comes along or were you eager to sell some of your crank?”
Sam was sweating profusely from his forehead and he kept swallowing and licking his lips. “I don’t know what that stuff is. You planted it. And I’ve got people after me. I thought it was them.”
“Ah, I see. So why are people after you? Who?”
“Just people. And I thought you were them.”
“Did you tell the police earlier that you were being targeted?”
Sam laughed. “What? Hell no. Why would I do that?”
“It’s what most people do when they’re being targeted.” Dean added air quotes to the last word. “Look, it’s simple. We’ve got you on weapons and drug possession charges. You’re looking at a good number of years. Not county jail. State prison. Worse.” He pointed at Sam. “For you, it’s worse. We’ve got a witness who says you set up the ambush that killed an officer two days ago in the woods out west of town.”
“I don’t know nothing about that.”
“Of course not. Thing is, I don’t care. We’re taking those guns and checking them. I’m particularly interested in this one.” Dean pointed to the M16 in the photo. “See, I know what one of those sounds like. I heard one as my fellow officer was shot dead. I’m betting this here M16 is going to match some ballistics we found out there in the woods.”
Sam bit his lip.
“Yeah. And it seems like you set someone up for making crank. Encouraged him. Got him a loan. Even trained him. Do you offer health insurance too? What’s the vacation policy?”
Sam rubbed his mouth. “That shithead.”
“Oh, do you know something?”
Just as quickly as it disappeared, the fear, the concern came back. “You talking about Alex?” Sam squinted at Dean. “Yeah, I bet you are. Whatever he says, you can’t believe a word out of his mouth. He lies just like his old man.”
“Right now, all I care about is making sure you end up in prison for a long time. Weapons possession. Drug possession. Distribution. Murder. Whatever I can send you to lock up for.”
Sam looked at Dean and then back down. “I didn’t murder anyone. No. Not that.”
“Not sure it makes much difference if you were there and shooting at us. Attempted murder? Does that sound any better? Accessory to murder? The point is, you’re going away. Sit on that.” Dean grabbed the photos and walked out of the interview room.
Eric was standing in the hall. “How’d it go?”
Dean gave him a thumbs up. “About ready to break.” He walked to his desk, slid open the drawer with the bottle of Wild Turkey, refreshed his flask, and took a drink.
Guthrie walked up, hiking his pants when he stopped before Dean’s desk. “Alex is booked and in jail. He’ll have a few hours at least before his pops bails him out.” He thumbed back toward the interview room. “How’s Sammy boy? Heard Zach put the baton to work.”
“Yep, whacked him back along the legs, sent the man down quick.”
Guthrie nodded. “He about ready to spill the beans?”
Dean nodded and took another drink. “He’s on the hot seat now for murder. At least he thinks he is. Based on his reaction, I think the M16 we found in his house was at the lab site.”
“That’s with the state now?”
“Not yet. We’ll get that over probably tomorrow. Maybe this afternoon.”
“Can I watch him squirm when you go back in?”
Handing Guthrie the flask, Dean said, “Hell yes you can.”
They waited another hour. Dean took in a small styrofoam cup of water and set it in front of Sam, who looked up at both of the detectives. “What the hell you doing out there?”
Dean sat down and crossed his arms. “Had a good think, did you?”
Sam took the cup and downed the water in one gulp. “I was thirsty. Thanks.” He tapped the cup over so that it slid across the table. “Yeah. I thought about it. I told him it was a bad idea.”
“Told who?”
Sam looked at Guthrie and then at Dean. “Zorn. He set up the ambush. Knew you guys were sniffing around. He didn’t mean to get anyone killed. Just scare the hell out of you. Make you think it was well defended. Keep you away.”
Dean leaned back. “That’s bullshit. You don’t bring an M16 and, I’m guessing, a rifle with a scope, start shooting, and not expect to hit somebody. And that’s not going to scare anyone off. We would’ve just gone back with more. More cops with more guns. Zorn’s not stupid.”
Sam shrugged. “What can I say? I only know what he tells me.”
Dean put his elbows on the table. “I know you. You’re not stupid either. This may not be the future you thought of when you were running track, but this is where you are and you’re not stupid.”
Sweat appeared again on Sam’s forehead.
Dean stretched his arms out wide. “Fine. So Zorn says let’s go into the woods and wait for the cops to show up? That about sum it up?”
Sam nodded.
“Who was with him? You?”
“No. No. I just knew it was going down. It was Zorn, Paddy, and Jimmy.”
Dean recognized the names. Paddy was the Sergeant-at-Arms. Jimmy was a new member. “Was Jimmy looking for his skull patch?”
“Yeah. He was.”
“When was this planned?”
“This is Friday. So it was planned on Wednesday.”
“The fourth?”
“Yeah.” Sam wiped the sweat from his brow. “Yeah. Wednesday night. It was discussed after the meeting. Zorn said it had to be done the next day and they needed to leave early.”
“Just like that?” Dean snapped his fingers.
Guthrie, who had drifted into his familiar corner, stepped forward. “And how come the M16 used to kill a cop winds up at your house?”
“Look, now that, that—. That is not my gun. Zorn or Paddy must have left it there for me. I was not in the woods. I was at home asleep man. I knew it was going down, but I can’t shoot. And like you said, I thought it wasn’t very smart.”
Zorn had put Sam up as the patsy. Dean knew that was why he was talking.
Guthrie said, “You know how often we get ‘home asleep’? It’s not an alibi. And what do you mean by ‘left it there for you’?” Like a gift?”
“I don’t know. Shit.” Sam dropped his head. “Shit.”
Dean raised his hand to stop Guthrie from continuing. “I’m just not buying this Sam. But if this is the story you’re sticking to, you can be just as stupid as Paul. Answer me this.”
Sam looked up at him.
“How’d Paul know about us cops showing up out there?”
A smile flickered across Sam’s face. Pride coming back in full splendor, even if briefly. He had knowledge Dean did not. Sam said, “He says he has a bitch who tells him everything. Connected direct into the police.”
Dean leaned back. Alex telling them this was the case was one thing. Sam was different somehow because he was a Grim Devil. “Who?”
Sam shook his head and shrugged. “Hell if I know. He kept that to himself. Always said he had himself a bitch to tell him everything.”
Dean breathed in deep. Sadie. It had to be Sadie. He knew he told her things he should not, as if she were his wife. She was nice to him because he paid her. He was not under any illusions about that, but he never expected she would be pumping him for information and passing it to Zorn. He would have to deal with that later. “Fine. You don’t know shit. But what do you know about William Nimitz?”
“Huh? What? He didn’t have anything to do with talking to the police.”
Guthrie pulled out the second chair across from Sam and sat down heavily. “No, you moron. We know that. But Billy was found in the woods, a bullet in his head, and a wad of cash in his closet. Was he working for Zorn like Alex?”
“That commie piece of shit. Hell no. He wasn’t cooking. If he had showed up at the clubhouse, we’d have beat the red right out of him.”
That word again, said with flagrant disgust. Dean asked, “He was a communist?”
“Yeah, man.”
“How do you know this?”
“My niece’s boyfriend’s about the same age as Billy. Says Billy was spouting off communist crap all the time. Wanted to save people from whatever.”
“Who’s the niece?”
“Why do I need to tell you that?”
“The spirit of cooperation.”
Sam twisted his mouth, sighed, and looked at the wall. Then he looked back at Sam. “Julie. Julie Darwish. Her boyfriend is Tim Upton.”
“And where was Billy spouting this commie stuff off at?” asked Guthrie.
“I don’t know. Ask one of them.”
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