He looked up at Faith and for a moment the fog was lifted from his eyes, and she could see the deep sadness that filled him. “I ain’t had an easy life," he said. "I had a wife, but she died young. I started drinking the night they buried her, and I never stopped. I have a pension, and I have a disability, and that pays me enough to make rent buy food, and keep drinking. That's all I do is drink."
At another time, Faith might have spared some sympathy for him, but right now, the best she could do was stifle her contempt. “Where did you go when you left the bar?”
“Home. ‘S where I always go. I ain’t got nowhere elsetogo.”
“Can anyone confirm that you went home the nights of the murders?”
He shook his head. “No. Ain’t no one but me and old Bessie. That's my truck." His shoulders straightened, and something almost like pride came to his face. "1975 Chevy one and a quarter ton. Got a four-twenty-seven big block in it and a fourteen-bolt rear axle. I guess she couldn't tell you where I was, though."
“No,” Faith agreed. “And that’s a problem, Ulysses.”
Michael walked in again and nodded once more. Carrie Ann had confirmed Ulysses was, in fact, at the bar the nights of the murders.
But that wasn’t enough to clear him. Not quite.
“Hang tight, Ulysses,” Faith said.
She and Michael stepped outside, leaving Turk with him. He started and opened his mouth to protest, but she and Michael left before he could.
They walked to the observation room, where a vaguely irritated duty sergeant watched with arms folded. Sioux City PD was not enthused to have one of their interrogation rooms and now most likely one of their jail cells co-opted by the FBI with no notice, but Faith couldn't give a shiny nickel what they thought. She had a case to solve.
“Carrie Ann says he was at the bar and left around eleven both nights,” Michael said. “One of the other bartenders was coming in, and she promised her she wouldn’t have to see Ulysses again.”
“Sheri?”
His eyes widened. “Yeah. Ulysses mention that to you?”
“Not about the late shift, just that he couldn’t go there Thursdays or Fridays anymore because of her.”
“Yeah, well, turns out Sheri’s not a big fan of strange men reaching under her bra,” Michael deadpanned.
“What a peach Ulysses is,” Faith opined.
A peach Ulysses might not have been, but that didn’t make him a murderer. Turk approached him three times in ten minutes, but all three times, he shook his head and didn't seem to notice anything incriminating.
Then again, he might not notice anything at all. Could ammonia really affect him that badly for this long?
A more frightening thought struck her. What if he had been injured when Dr. West knocked him out? She knew of people who went blind after being hit in the back of the head. Could Turk have lost his sense of smell?
A wave of hate filled her. She was going to kill him. She was going to make it hurt. She was going to make it last a long time. She had warned him not to hurt her dog. He had hurt Turk anyway, and she would make him pay.
“Faith.”
Michael’s voice jarred her from her thoughts. She turned to him, and he glanced at her arm. She looked down and saw a thin trickle of blood where she had pressed her fingernail into the skin of her shoulder. She unclasped her arms with an effort and ignored the heat rising up her neck. “We’ll let him stew for a night,” she said. “Maybe in the morning we’ll get something more from him.”
“You want him to stew overnight, you’re gonna have to book him,” the duty sergeant pointed out.
“Book him, then,” she said.
He sighed heavily, but Faith ignored him. She opened the door to the interrogation room and called, “Turk, come.”
“Wait,” Ulysses cried, “what about me?”
Faith ignored him and let the door swing shut behind her.
CHAPTER NINE
Kevin groaned and tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea forced him back to the ground. His head throbbed, and he squeezed his eyes against the pain. He took a deep breath and decided to try something easier. He opened his eyes, but they refused to budge. He stretched his lids open as widely as he could, but he saw only pitch black. He lifted his hands to his eyes to force them open, only to find that they were open. He saw only pitch black because that was all there was to see.
