Page 79 of Love Again

“Well, good luck with that. I’m definitely calling Mr. Barr.”

“You can’t.” I fold my arms. “Conflict of interest.”

Carlson enters the room and sets the three glass specimen jars on the table in front of him.

“What the fuck are those? Shit!”

Carlson looks at him carefully. “You should know, Jim. They’re your baby teeth.” He leaves the room. The three jars with their macabre contents and melted lids sit malignantly on the table.

Jim Whitehead leans forward, toward me. “Devon, look. I didn’t have anything to do with those fires. Hot damn, those are my teeth? Where the hell did they come from? Why do you have them?”

“They’re baby teeth that were left at the scene of five of the fires. That’s almost half the sites. We’re canvassing all the other sites to make sure nothing was missed. That’s how we linked two more Portland fires. There might be more. If so, Keller and Carlson will find them all.”

Right about now, Finn will be escorting Kevin right past the glass window again after a seemingly impromptu chat in the hall. Kevin will hear my next words very clearly.

“We know you set them. Did Kevin make you? Did he help you?”

Carlson enters the small room again, speaking as soon as he opens the door. “Jim, this is your last chance. If you have something you want to tell us, now’s the time.”

Jim stares at him. “I got nuthin’, man, I told you. I didn’t do anything.”

“The more you try to protect Kevin, the more trouble you’re going to be in. You’re free to go.” Carlson motions for Jim to set his wrists on the table. He unlocks the cuffs and sets them next to the teeth.

Carson leans toward the glass bottles. “We’re going to add murder to that charge too.” He glances as Jim. “I said you’re free to go. Go.”

Jim rises slowly and casts one more look at the teeth in the jars. “That’s fucked up,” he says and then walks out of the room.

Carlson and I follow and Jim heads to the men’s room. “You did great,” says Carlson after making sure neither Kevin or Jim are around. He glances at the other men. “Let’s go to my office and regroup.”

I follow them to the back, but I duck into the kitchen area for a cup of coffee. I need it. “I’ll be a sec,” I say.

“Take any mug from the dish drainer,” says Carlson.

I’ve just finished pouring when Jim Whitehead appears, blocking the doorway. He puts a hand on his crotch. “You are the only Russo I haven’t fucked yet.”

Saying nothing, I keep pouring and then set the glass carafe back on its rusted burner.

“Let’s see—Chloe. Claire, of course. And then after she broke up with me, along came Laurel, who was fucking everyone.”

My body is vibrating, and my face suddenly flushes. What. An. Ass.

“But you. . . man. We should get together.”

Suddenly, there’s movement behind him, and Luke comes out of nowhere and slams Jim Whitehead up against the wall. Jim’s big and stupid and strong, but Luke is taller, faster, and trained. In a second, he’s got an arm pressed to Jim’s throat and his leg jammed between Jim’s, and he is right in his face.

“You don’t ever”—he presses down harder—“ever talk to her like that. Got it?”

Jim’s starting to turn red, and then Luke lets him go. The kid straightens out his collar and looks affronted.

“This is a fucking police station, asshole—”

“You only talk to her when she asks you a question.” Luke pushes him back up against the wall again. Mateus comes from behind and puts a hand on Luke’s shoulder.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Luke this pissed off. Not like this.

“I’m going to have you up on charges,” says Jim, looking rattled.

“Good luck with that,” says Luke.