She put down the phone and waved him in. “That was the deputy with Ricky at the ER.”
“How is he?” Matt popped an almond into his mouth and offered the bag to Bree.
She opened her hand, and he poured a few nuts into her palm. “Ricky’s full name is Richard Sanderling. The wound was superficial. They gave him a tetanus booster, stitched him up, and sent him over to juvie. Ricky told the deputy that he went to Jasper’s to buy a rattlesnake. He said they were”—Bree used air quotes—“cool.”
“Jasper was right about one thing. Ricky is an idiot.”
“Jasper has no room to criticize. He has a basement full of dangerous reptiles,” Bree pointed out. “This is not Ricky’s first visit to juvie. He’s been picked up for narcotics possession, shoplifting, petty theft . . .” Stealing was common among addicts. They needed money to buy their drugs and could rarely hold a job. “The only thing longer than his arrest record are the track marks on his arms.”
“School?” Matt asked.
“I doubt it.” Bree sighed. “The deputy called his father, who came down to the hospital. Ricky’s mother left three years ago. She had an Oxy addiction. Ricky’s drug use began by stealing her pills. No one knows where she is. Mr. Sanderling says he doesn’t know what to do with Ricky. He’s repeatedly brought guns and drugs home. He can’t be trusted around his brothers. The youngest is only six.”
“So, a rattlesnake is a perfect choice of pet.” Matt blew out a disgusted breath.
“Then Ricky and his dad had a blowout argument in the ER, which ended with Mr. Sanderling telling Ricky not to come home.” Bree scrubbed both hands down her exhausted face. “The only good news is that Mr. Sanderling expressed no interest in suing the sheriff’s department.”
“Can you write off your own kid?” Matt couldn’t imagine, but then he also couldn’t imagine having a teenager who was completely out of control and constantly endangering his younger siblings.
“I don’t know the whole story, so I won’t judge the dad yet. But I will reserve the option to judge him later. Maybe he’s done all he can and is simply out of options except to protect his younger kids.” Bree moved toward the door. “Thankfully, Ricky is only fifteen.” In New York State, he couldn’t be processed as an adult until he turned sixteen. “He’ll be processed as a juvenile. They’re trying to find a spot in rehab.”
“That’s the best possible outcome,” Matt said. “When can we talk to him?”
“Probably tomorrow. He has to get through intake at the juvenile detention center today.”
Bree’s administrative assistant, Marge, poked her head into the room. Her hair was a halo of dyed brown curls. “Jasper LaForge’s attorney is here.” Somewhere around sixty years old, Marge was a wonder of efficiency and common sense. Today, she’d layered a turtleneck under her cardigan, and she’d traded her sensible shoes for sensible boots.
Bree pushed up from her desk with both hands. She grabbed a notepad and jotted down a few notes. “Let’s see if we can get some answers.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“How do you want to handle him?” Matt finished his almonds and tossed the bag into the trash can. He was still hungry, but his snack would have to suffice for the moment.
“I didn’t get a good feel for Jasper at his house,” Bree said.
“Yeah. He seemed . . .” Matt reached for the right word. “Indifferent?”
“That’s a nice way of saying he didn’t give a fuck about anything, and that attitude will make questioning him a challenge.” Bree grabbed a water bottle from her desk. “Let’s see how it goes. If he responds better to you, go ahead and take the lead.”
He glanced sideways at her. “You know you’ve become a very good sheriff.”
She laughed. “Because I’m learning to delegate? You know I still want to do everything myself. It’s just impossible if I also want to raise two kids. And you’re an excellent interviewer.”
“Because you know how to let people do their jobs without your own ego getting in the way. That’s a rare quality. Among politicians, you’re practically a unicorn.”
Sheriff was an elected position, so technically, Bree was both a politician and a law enforcement officer, though he knew politics drove her crazy.
Color flushed her cheeks, and she opened her mouth. He could tell by her expression that she wanted to protest his compliment. Then she nodded and said, “Thank you. Now, let’s get to work.”
Questioning suspects was a skill. You had to be willing to play whatever role encouraged the subject to talk. Sometimes, you had to lie to get the job done. You had to side with abhorrent opinions. Matt had once agreed with a man when he said women needed a punch in the face now and then. The process could feel a little slimy. But getting information or a confession was worth the temporary discomfort. There was no law against lying to a suspect. Cops did it all the time.
But first, they needed to know what motivated Jasper, and so far, they hadn’t found anything.
They headed down the hall toward the interrogation room, where a deputy was babysitting a handcuffed Jasper. On the way in, Matt activated the video camera that would record the session. Jasper’s lawyer sat next to his client. He wore an off-the-rack suit, but his gaze was hard and sharp. Matt judged him as street smart rather than fancy. He had no time for bullshit and would be willing to scrap in the dirt.
Bree eased into a chair, facing Jasper over the table. Matt sat next to her, across from the lawyer. To better read body language, he preferred to sit next to the subject, without a barrier between them. But the lawyer had taken the spot next to his client.
After tossing her notepad on the table, Bree removed Jasper’s handcuffs. Then she read the names of all present, gave the date, and read Jasper his Miranda rights. Jasper signed the acknowledgment without fuss.
Bree sat down and stared at Jasper. “This would have been easier at your house.”
“No shit.” Jasper sounded disgusted. “Ricky is a fucking moron. I told him to sit down and shut up, and everything would be fine, but no. He panicked.”
“How did he get your gun?” She folded her hands on her notes. They didn’t know if the gun belonged to Jasper or Ricky, but sometimes a bluff paid off.
Jasper was too smart to fall into her trap and answered without missing a beat. “What gun?” Fake innocence and mild amusement lit his eyes, as if he were enjoying the interview process.
Or even playing with them.
“We found several illegal weapons in your house.” Bree recited the list.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Jasper blinked at the question. Matt could see the lie plainly enough, but Jasper had no guilt, no remorse. He didn’t even seem nervous. Ownership of the handgun Ricky had used was questionable, but Matt was 99 percent sure the other weapons found in the house belonged to Jasper.
“You’re in deep trouble, Jasper.” Bree fixed her gaze on his face. “We found guns, cash, and a basement full of illegal reptiles.”
Jasper held eye contact.