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with Michael Garrison—”
    “I heard.”
    “Word travels fast around here.”
    White just looked at me blankly. I hoped his job wasn’t to humor me. “He denies killing anybody except for a handful of hostages in the bank.”
    “Don’t all inmates deny the charges against them?”
    “Some of the hostages that day were shot. The rest were cut and bled to death. In my experience, serial killers don’t change their M.O. on a whim. Perhaps over time, for some reason bearing significance.”
    “The two surviving victims said they saw Garrison shoot those people.”
    “Lieutenant White, I’m not arguing that. I believe Garrison shot a handful of hostages that day. It’s the others I question. He has no medical knowledge or knowhow that I’m aware of. Those incisions had to be precise and were done quickly.”
    “Agent Kane, everyone here appreciates your expertise with serial killers. You’ve got a record most in law enforcement would kill to have. But I have no idea why you’re wasting time on a case that has already been put to bed.”
    I started to get irritated. White seemed like a nice guy and was probably toeing the line. Loyal cops do that; they get on board and roll with it. They don’t question.
    “Lieutenant, I also learned that the FBI agents that worked the Garrison case stopped the minute Detroit PD had him under arrest. Special Agent Tully said he received word from your department that the case was under control and their help was no longer needed.”
    “We had a handle on it. We were thankful for their help. What more is there to know? If they didn’t close their cases properly, that’s their problem and you should look to them for an answer.”
    “It just doesn’t add up—Garrison going through the trouble of killing the hostages two different ways, confessing to all of the previous murders even though there’s no evidence that I have seen so far that puts him at any of those crime scenes.”
    The lieutenant shifted in his seat. “Agent Kane, what is it you want from me?” he asked. His head had tilted down to one side. The crinkles in his forehead deepened. “What are you asking me?”
    “I’m asking for the truth here.”
    “Truth?” His voice was noticeably lower. “Isn’t that what we all want?” He clucked his lips a bit. “The truth is what we believe. Do you believe the problems you have with the Garrison case will prevent you from catching the killer?”
    “No.”
    White reached across the desk and took one of my hands, holding it gently between both of his. “If you catch the killer, Agent Kane, everything will work itself out.”
    Before he could let go of my hand I grabbed his. “Wait. What do you mean by that?”
    White’s eyes were glassy and tired. If there was something going on here, a cover-up, White probably knew about it. After looking me directly in the eyes for a few seconds, he seemed to relinquish the wall he had erected.
    “I’ve worked for the Metro Detroit Police my entire life. I love this job. I believe we make a difference in this city. I’m a year away from retiring and collecting my pension. I’ve got a daughter who’s getting married next spring and a wedding I need to pay for. I’m helping my son and his wife purchase their first home. I might not like what’s going on here anymore than you do, but I still need my job.”
    White leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh. He was a defeated old man trying to make it to retirement.
    “Can you—wait, strike that. Will you help me?” I asked, my voice low.
    “I can’t answer all your questions, but I’ll try to help you as much as I can. You have got to understand the situation I am in, though.”
    I nodded. Hopefully, he understood the situation I was in.

 
     
    20
     
     
    “I was born to do this.” That’s what Chief Reginald Reed told others. He loved everything about law enforcement—everything except the visits.
    They took place on the first Friday of every month