Read Online The Heavens May Fall by Allen Eskens - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Allen Eskens
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DNA?”
Pruitt straightened up. “Exclude me? You know you’ll find my fingerprints and DNA all over that house. How will that exclude me?”
“You know how this works. It’s standard procedure. If we know what’s yours, we can figure out what isn’t yours.”
Max could see a hint of anger pass behind Pruitt’s eyes.
“I’m the husband. I know I’m gonna be the first person on your list of suspects. That’s standard procedure too. Or am I wrong?” Pruitt’s eyes stared into Max’s, waiting for a response, a response that Max refused to give. “And, by the way, don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer my question. How did my wife die?”
“I’m afraid I can’t discuss an active investigation.”
“Bullshit, Detective.” Pruitt continued to stare at Max and spoke in a controlled tone. “I know it’s technically confidential, but I also know that you release information all the time if it helps you. Well, I want to help you. I did not kill my wife.” Pruitt leaned harder into the table and calmly said it again. “I did not kill my wife. I know you don’t like me. I know we’ve crossed paths before and it left a bad taste in your mouth. I’m a criminal-defense attorney for God’s sake. It’s my job. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t piss off a cop or two along the way. You may have it in for me, but as far as I’m concerned, that’s all water under the bridge. I want to help you find who did this. And to that end, you need to know that I did not kill my wife.”
“Mr. Pruitt, I never said that you killed your wife. I never said you’re a suspect. I just want to get as much information so that I can find the person who did this.”
“Then tell me what happened. How’d she die?”
A lab tech knocked on the door and entered with a portable fingerprint scanner. “May we?” Max asked.
“Sure,” Pruitt said. “But you’re wasting your time.”
Max glanced at the camera above the door, and gave a nod to his commander, who was watching the interrogation on a computer monitor and had sent the tech in. Pruitt looked at the tech, then at the camera over the door and offered his hand to the tech before returning to the conversation.
“I was in Chicago,” Pruitt stated. “I was attending an NACDL convention.”
“NACDL?”
“National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers. It was a conference on white-collar crime. I flew down yesterday, Delta Airlines. Check it out. They’ll confirm it. Got to Chicago about eleven a.m. The first panel discussion didn’t start until two in the afternoon.”
“How’d you get to the airport?”
“Park-and-ride.” Pruitt pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and produced a receipt.
“Can I hold on to this?” Max asked.
Pruitt narrowed his eyes, as if calculating advantages and disadvantages of Max’s request. Then he answered, “Sure, if it’ll help find my wife’s killer.”
“What hotel did you stay at?”
“The downtown Marriott.”
“Is that also where the convention is being held?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“Absolutely, I have a few friends I see at those things.”
“Can I get some names?”
“Um . . . let’s see, there was—”
The tech, who had been taking Pruitt’s fingerprints as he spoke, now waved a long-stemmed cotton swab in the air to signal that he wanted a DNA sample. Pruitt hesitated as though confused by the interruption, then opened his mouth. When the tech finished, Max slid a legal pad and pen across the table, and Pruitt wrote down two names. As he did, Max looked at Pruitt’s hands—no marks, no cuts, nor were there any on his face. Max didn’t expect to see any, though, as Mrs. Pruitt showed no signs that she struggled with her attacker.
“What about last night?” Max continued.
“I’m an old hand at these conferences. They had a social hour at one of the hospitality suites, but that’s for the young guns. I don’t need to do any of that
Pruitt straightened up. “Exclude me? You know you’ll find my fingerprints and DNA all over that house. How will that exclude me?”
“You know how this works. It’s standard procedure. If we know what’s yours, we can figure out what isn’t yours.”
Max could see a hint of anger pass behind Pruitt’s eyes.
“I’m the husband. I know I’m gonna be the first person on your list of suspects. That’s standard procedure too. Or am I wrong?” Pruitt’s eyes stared into Max’s, waiting for a response, a response that Max refused to give. “And, by the way, don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t answer my question. How did my wife die?”
“I’m afraid I can’t discuss an active investigation.”
“Bullshit, Detective.” Pruitt continued to stare at Max and spoke in a controlled tone. “I know it’s technically confidential, but I also know that you release information all the time if it helps you. Well, I want to help you. I did not kill my wife.” Pruitt leaned harder into the table and calmly said it again. “I did not kill my wife. I know you don’t like me. I know we’ve crossed paths before and it left a bad taste in your mouth. I’m a criminal-defense attorney for God’s sake. It’s my job. I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t piss off a cop or two along the way. You may have it in for me, but as far as I’m concerned, that’s all water under the bridge. I want to help you find who did this. And to that end, you need to know that I did not kill my wife.”
“Mr. Pruitt, I never said that you killed your wife. I never said you’re a suspect. I just want to get as much information so that I can find the person who did this.”
“Then tell me what happened. How’d she die?”
A lab tech knocked on the door and entered with a portable fingerprint scanner. “May we?” Max asked.
“Sure,” Pruitt said. “But you’re wasting your time.”
Max glanced at the camera above the door, and gave a nod to his commander, who was watching the interrogation on a computer monitor and had sent the tech in. Pruitt looked at the tech, then at the camera over the door and offered his hand to the tech before returning to the conversation.
“I was in Chicago,” Pruitt stated. “I was attending an NACDL convention.”
“NACDL?”
“National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers. It was a conference on white-collar crime. I flew down yesterday, Delta Airlines. Check it out. They’ll confirm it. Got to Chicago about eleven a.m. The first panel discussion didn’t start until two in the afternoon.”
“How’d you get to the airport?”
“Park-and-ride.” Pruitt pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and produced a receipt.
“Can I hold on to this?” Max asked.
Pruitt narrowed his eyes, as if calculating advantages and disadvantages of Max’s request. Then he answered, “Sure, if it’ll help find my wife’s killer.”
“What hotel did you stay at?”
“The downtown Marriott.”
“Is that also where the convention is being held?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone see you?”
“Absolutely, I have a few friends I see at those things.”
“Can I get some names?”
“Um . . . let’s see, there was—”
The tech, who had been taking Pruitt’s fingerprints as he spoke, now waved a long-stemmed cotton swab in the air to signal that he wanted a DNA sample. Pruitt hesitated as though confused by the interruption, then opened his mouth. When the tech finished, Max slid a legal pad and pen across the table, and Pruitt wrote down two names. As he did, Max looked at Pruitt’s hands—no marks, no cuts, nor were there any on his face. Max didn’t expect to see any, though, as Mrs. Pruitt showed no signs that she struggled with her attacker.
“What about last night?” Max continued.
“I’m an old hand at these conferences. They had a social hour at one of the hospitality suites, but that’s for the young guns. I don’t need to do any of that
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