“Get off me!” Kenny screamed. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Matt had been so focused on the chase, he hadn’t realized Bree was right behind them. She jogged to a halt next to him. Breathing hard, she handed Matt a set of handcuffs. Matt worked Kenny’s hands behind his back. Kenny thrashed, resisting as Matt snapped on the cuffs. Once secured, the man stopped fighting. Out of breath, Kenny wheezed, and his chest heaved.
Leaning her hands on her thighs, Bree asked, “Kenny McPherson?”
Kenny flailed. “Fuck off.”
Matt rolled him onto his back. “What the hell? We just want to talk. Stop fighting. Are you Kenny?”
“Yeah.” Kenny frowned at them. Sweat shone on his bald head and soaked his T-shirt. Distrust tightened his face. “If you think I’m going to talk to you, you’re wrong. I learned my lesson the last time. I won’t cooperate so you can arrest me for something else I didn’t do. Get a fucking warrant.”
“I’m Sheriff Taggert.” Bree gestured to Matt. “And this is Criminal Investigator Matt Flynn. You’re on parole. You know we don’t need a warrant. All I need to do is call your parole officer.” Parolees were technically still serving out their prison sentences.
“Fuck me,” Kenny said.
Bree gestured. “Let’s get out of the street.” She reached down, picked up Kenny’s phone, and shoved it in her pocket.
Matt grabbed Kenny’s elbow and hauled him to his feet. Then he steered him back to Mrs. Weir’s yard.
“Do you want to talk in your place”—Bree motioned toward the apartment—“or at the station?”
Kenny frowned, indecision all over his face. “If I let you in, you’re liable to plant evidence.”
“We can take you to the station and search your place anyway,” Matt said. If Kenny had been set up, Matt empathized with him. But the falsified charges were also the motivation that made him a potential murder suspect.
Bree stopped at the base of the staircase that led to Kenny’s apartment. “I’m going to give you the choice. Where do you want to talk?”
“Fine. Here then.” Kenny started up the steps. “Fucking cops.” At the top of the stairs, a still-handcuffed Kenny stepped aside and nodded. “You’ll have to get the door.”
She opened it and walked inside. Matt followed Bree and Kenny into a studio apartment smaller than the average hotel room. In the main area, sheets were neatly folded on the arm of a futon. A small TV sat on the floor facing the futon. There was no table or chairs. The kitchenette consisted of a sink, a mini fridge, and a narrow electric range, separated by two feet of counter space. Matt spied one open door on the other side of the room. He could see a pedestal sink, a toilet, and a shower stall the size of a phone booth.
Kenny stopped in the middle of the living area. “I’m not talking unless you record the interview. I won’t have you putting words in my mouth.”
That was a first. Matt had never had a suspect request they record the interview.
Bree drew out her phone, tapped the screen, then set it on the wooden arm of the futon. “OK. I’m recording.”
Kenny relaxed.
“Do you live alone?” Matt asked.
Kenny nodded toward his futon. “Are you serious? You think I could squeeze a roommate in here? I barely fit. Not that I’m complaining about Mrs. Weir. I appreciate everything she’s done for me.”
Matt had seen much worse. “I’ve seen plenty of felons stuck in rooming houses, so this isn’t bad.”
“Not bad?” Kenny mashed his lips. His face reddened as if his blood pressure were rising. “I went to prison on bogus charges. I never did drugs. I never hit anyone. Those deputies faked it all. It was a setup. I was innocent.” He heaved a huge sigh. “Can you take these cuffs off?”
“You’re not going to try to run?” Bree asked.
Kenny rolled his eyes at Matt. “What would be the point? I’d never get past Hercules here.”
Matt circled a hand in the air. “I understand your previous experiences with law enforcement might not have been positive, but Sheriff Taggert will be fair.”
Kenny turned around, and Matt removed the cuffs.
“Why did you run?” Bree began.
Kenny rubbed his wrists. “The last time I didn’t run from the sheriff’s department, they set me up for a crime I didn’t commit and sent me to prison.”
Bree gave him a respectful nod. “Did you resist arrest?”