She nods.
“That’s the point. Vince was at home. Cooking my piece-of-garbage father dinner. I remember because Vince got there just before ten—I was watching the clock, worried he wouldn’t get home before Dad. It’s impossible that he was at the video store.”
“Someone saw his car there at closing,” Ella says.
“An anonymous tip supposedly given to detectives who were under pressure to make an arrest. There’s no record of that call. And even if it was a real tip, not one made up by the cops, no one has ever come forward as the witness. No one’s been able to test the person who claimed they saw our car. And the customer who saw Katie McKenzie arguing with someone in the lot only heard a male’s voice and never got a look at who she was arguing with.”
“But he was at the store that night. I saw him earlier.”
“Yes, earlier.” Chris turns to her. “He told me he’d visited a girl. He was crazy about her. He’d walked all the way to the Blockbuster just to see her. If that was Katie McKenzie, then why would he kill her? Why would he kill all of them?”
Ella looks like she’s going to say something, then stops herself. After a moment, she says, “Then why run?”
Chris contemplates the glass of brown liquid. He has no answer. He drains the glass, taps the rim, signaling Clyde for another. The bar owner gives him a look, like, You sure that’s a good idea? Chris taps the rim again, and Clyde obliges.
Ella takes another swig of her own drink, emptying her glass without even a wince. She gestures to Clyde, who by now appears amused at the two of them for some reason. He fills her glass.
“Julia told me about your mother,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
Chris gives a clipped nod. He doesn’t want to get into it all.
Ella seems to sense this. They drink in silence again.
Then: “What did Vince say about the girl?”
“Pardon?” Chris says.
“That night. You said Vince was talking about a girl. What did he say?”
Instantly, Chris is back in his kitchen before Rusty got home, the smell of Hamburger Helper in the air. His brother euphoric.
“He said she was special. She smelled different.”
“Smelled?”
He nods. “Vince always said we’d get out. Escape from our dad. Our world would smell different too.”
Ella swallows. Her eyes are wet.
“He had a name for it.” Chris takes a pull of his drink. He’s about to say it, when Ella does it for him.
“Nirvana,” she says.
Chris is taken aback. How in the hell does she know that? And then his phone pings. An alert. The vlogger. But it isn’t a video this time. It’s another livestream. He pushes back his stool from the bar, stands up.
“What is it?” Ella asks.
“I’m going to put a fucking end to this question once and for all.”
“What question?”
“Whether my brother is back. Whether he’s a killer.” He asks Clyde to put the drinks on a tab, then starts to leave.
“Christopher.”
He turns to find Ella staring at him.
“Can I come with you?”
CHAPTER 60
KELLER
In a meeting room at the Union County jail, Rusty Whitaker sits next to his lawyer, a middle-aged woman with short hair and an exasperated expression. It’s crowded on Keller’s side of the table: the AUSA prosecuting the federal charges against Rusty for the cigarette counterfeiting ring, as well as Hal Kowalski and Joe Arpeggio, who are running point on the state murder charges.
“For the record,” Rusty’s lawyer says, “this meeting is against my advice. I was just assigned to the case. The Union County Public Defender’s Office has some type of conflict, so the judge appointed me to represent Mr. Whitaker on the state charges. I’m not clear about the federal charges. A federal defender may be involved. In any event, I need time to assess the case.” She gives Rusty the side-eye. “I’ve told Mr. Whitaker that until I’m up to speed, he should exercise his right to shut the hell up.”
“You understand what your lawyer is telling you?” Keller asks. Because it was her collar, etiquette dictates that she starts the questioning.
Rusty nods.
“Please say it out loud for the recording.” Keller looks back at the camera mounted to the ceiling.
“Yeah, I understand. I already signed the damn Miranda form.”
“And you’ve requested this meeting, and you’re speaking to us of your own free will—against the advice of your counsel.”