Thicker Than Water

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Louis waited in the first floor lobby of Brenner’s office building, watching the glass doors for Mobley. It was ten minutes after five. Where was he? A Lee County cruiser pulled up and Mobley got out. Louis held the door open for him.

“You ready for this?” Mobely asked.

Louis nodded.

At the elevator, Mobley jabbed at the button. His dark green uniform looked fresh from its dry-cleaner plastic. He looked rested but grim. Louis’s eyes dropped to the folder in Mobley’s hands. He wished he knew how Mobley was going to handle this. What the hell did he plan to say?

The doors opened and they stepped into the Brenner reception area. The receptionist’s desk was empty; Mobley led the way past it, down the short hall to Scott’s office. The door was open.

Scott was picking up his suit coat and paused, his eyes moving from Mobley to Louis. Louis knew he was trying his damndest to figure out what they were doing here together.

“Evening, guys,” Scott said, shrugging on his coat. “Something I can do for you?”

“Is Brian here, Scott?” Mobley asked.

“No, he left early,” Scott said, looking again at Louis. “Is there something wrong?”

Mobley hesitated. “We need to talk to you.”

Scott looked puzzled, but motioned to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please, sit down.”

Mobley didn’t move. “There’s been a couple things come up in the Kitty Jagger investigation I thought you should know about.”

Scott’s face brightened. “Oh, well. Good. I need all the leverage I can get for the motion to retry.”

Mobley drew in a breath. “Scott, we think Brian raped and murdered Kitty Jagger.”

Scott froze, his eyes locked on Mobley’s face. Then placing both hands on his desk, slowly sat down.

“Lance, you’ve known Brian and me since high school,” he said quietly. “You know he couldn’t have. .” Scott’s voice trailed off.

Mobley glanced at Louis, then stepped forward. “Scott, listen to me.”

“No,” Scott said, shaking his head. “You’re wrong.”

“We’re not wrong,” Mobley said. “We think Brian picked Kitty up after work and took her to your house. Then something went wrong.”

Louis resisted the urge to cut in. Jesus Christ, how much was he going to tell him?

“After he killed her,” Mobley went on, “he threw her body in the dump, and tossed the panties in Cade’s truck, which we know he saw every morning in your neighborhood.”

Scott tightened, closing his eyes, trying to hold himself together.

“Scott, we need your help on this,” Mobley said. “Brian was a kid. We understand that.”

“He didn’t do this,” Scott said, his voice stronger.

“Then ask him to submit to a blood test.”

Scott’s head was down and his eyes were closed. It was quiet enough that Louis could hear the ring of a telephone out on the secretary’s desk. It rang for a long time before the person finally gave up.

Scott pushed himself up from his desk. Slowly, he straightened his lapels and touched his tie. A change came over his expression, like he had suddenly slipped on a mask that didn’t quite fit.

“Since I am the attorney of record for my brother, I am ending this conversation now,” he said.

“Scott, c’mon,” Mobley said. “You’re a civil lawyer. Get him somebody who can help him, for chrissake.”

“Brian and I have a standing retainer with each other. He’s my attorney and I am his. Now get out. Now.”

Mobley shook his head. “Not yet, Scott. I have search warrants here.”

“For what?”

Mobley stepped forward and laid them one by one on Scott’s desk.

“For Brian’s office. For his apartment. And for the house on Shaddlelee Lane.”