Marquez looking about the same—broad-shouldered, rangy, tough, but not a woodsy type and that was really about the eyes. This wasn’t a uniform Fish and Game warden in a DFG vehicle driving around looking for violators. This guy was as dangerous as he was casual.
‘We’re going to do this in an interview room, John. Everything I do with this investigation gets taped, but don’t read anything into it. You okay with that?’
‘That’s fine.’
‘Thanks for making the trip north. You must have come up last night.’
‘I drove up this morning.’
‘You got an early start.’
‘I did.’
Three murder files waited in the interview box, smack in the middle of the table, and Voight encouraged Marquez to open the first file. This was how he was going to roll with it, let him look through everything, a fellow law enforcement officer getting to peruse murder files, though they were not exactly complete. He had removed everything that mattered but no doubt Marquez anticipated that.
Voight explained how they were organized, his face coloring, a light sweat starting on his forehead that was probably blood pressure and expectation. He knew this needed to go just right and he had real doubts about everything he had laid out yesterday with Harknell’s encouragement.
Sheriff Harknell walked into the room right on cue and was all smiles. He clapped Marquez’s back and thanked him for being here. Harknell couldn’t stand the Department of Fish and Game. Harknell heard they were changing their name to the Department of Fish and Wildlife soon and half an hour ago was joking about what he would call the department if he were naming it.
Harknell was proud of his part in getting Marquez here, but the stupid ass didn’t realize it was really Marquez at the wheel, not him. Marquez was trading nothing. The investigation file he sent on this Rider character was a mess, initials for suspects, short notes, references to other Fish and Game investigations, something only an insider could read.
Harknell looked from Marquez to him and without warning asked, ‘Did you get your walk this morning, Rich?’
‘No time for it today.’
‘We have to make time. It’s important. Go take it right now.’
Voight was stunned.
‘What are you talking about, sir? I can’t go anywhere right now.’
‘No, I mean it, and I’ll get started with the warden. I need to get caught up on where we’re at anyway and Warden Marquez needs to read and I’m sure that’ll take some time.’
The way he said it insinuated that Marquez had trouble reading, but if the insult bothered Marquez at all it didn’t show. Marquez looked much more curious that Harknell was sending him off on a walk and making a different statement.
Harknell pulled out a chair and sat down across from Marquez with a concerned frown, talking now as if Voight wasn’t in the room, saying, ‘Rich has a medical condition we’re accommodating as long as he sticks with it. He’s got everything you don’t want—labile hypertension, pre-diabetes, and a list of other conditions he’s got to take care of. We have an agreement that he’s going to do that.’
Harknell turned to Voight.
‘Get out of here, Rich. Go do the walk. We won’t get that far while you’re gone.’
‘I’ll do it later and it’s my business, no one else’s.’
‘You’ve made it department business and you’re going to walk now.’
Voight felt anger surge and the heat that came when his blood pressure jumped. He spent half the night getting ready for Marquez to look at it and didn’t do it so Sheriff Hardass could sit in his chair.
‘Go.’
Voight stood over his chair. He didn’t sit down and the room got smaller. He had a moment of dizziness. Harknell didn’t know shit about homicide investigation. Harknell’s top skill was handing out paper plates at a Kiwanis pancake breakfast and leaning on donors for checks whenever he ran for re-election. He knew zero about solving a murder or
‘We’re going to do this in an interview room, John. Everything I do with this investigation gets taped, but don’t read anything into it. You okay with that?’
‘That’s fine.’
‘Thanks for making the trip north. You must have come up last night.’
‘I drove up this morning.’
‘You got an early start.’
‘I did.’
Three murder files waited in the interview box, smack in the middle of the table, and Voight encouraged Marquez to open the first file. This was how he was going to roll with it, let him look through everything, a fellow law enforcement officer getting to peruse murder files, though they were not exactly complete. He had removed everything that mattered but no doubt Marquez anticipated that.
Voight explained how they were organized, his face coloring, a light sweat starting on his forehead that was probably blood pressure and expectation. He knew this needed to go just right and he had real doubts about everything he had laid out yesterday with Harknell’s encouragement.
Sheriff Harknell walked into the room right on cue and was all smiles. He clapped Marquez’s back and thanked him for being here. Harknell couldn’t stand the Department of Fish and Game. Harknell heard they were changing their name to the Department of Fish and Wildlife soon and half an hour ago was joking about what he would call the department if he were naming it.
Harknell was proud of his part in getting Marquez here, but the stupid ass didn’t realize it was really Marquez at the wheel, not him. Marquez was trading nothing. The investigation file he sent on this Rider character was a mess, initials for suspects, short notes, references to other Fish and Game investigations, something only an insider could read.
Harknell looked from Marquez to him and without warning asked, ‘Did you get your walk this morning, Rich?’
‘No time for it today.’
‘We have to make time. It’s important. Go take it right now.’
Voight was stunned.
‘What are you talking about, sir? I can’t go anywhere right now.’
‘No, I mean it, and I’ll get started with the warden. I need to get caught up on where we’re at anyway and Warden Marquez needs to read and I’m sure that’ll take some time.’
The way he said it insinuated that Marquez had trouble reading, but if the insult bothered Marquez at all it didn’t show. Marquez looked much more curious that Harknell was sending him off on a walk and making a different statement.
Harknell pulled out a chair and sat down across from Marquez with a concerned frown, talking now as if Voight wasn’t in the room, saying, ‘Rich has a medical condition we’re accommodating as long as he sticks with it. He’s got everything you don’t want—labile hypertension, pre-diabetes, and a list of other conditions he’s got to take care of. We have an agreement that he’s going to do that.’
Harknell turned to Voight.
‘Get out of here, Rich. Go do the walk. We won’t get that far while you’re gone.’
‘I’ll do it later and it’s my business, no one else’s.’
‘You’ve made it department business and you’re going to walk now.’
Voight felt anger surge and the heat that came when his blood pressure jumped. He spent half the night getting ready for Marquez to look at it and didn’t do it so Sheriff Hardass could sit in his chair.
‘Go.’
Voight stood over his chair. He didn’t sit down and the room got smaller. He had a moment of dizziness. Harknell didn’t know shit about homicide investigation. Harknell’s top skill was handing out paper plates at a Kiwanis pancake breakfast and leaning on donors for checks whenever he ran for re-election. He knew zero about solving a murder or
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