Free Ruthless by Debra Webb Page B

news.”
    He laughed, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest, something Jess shouldn’t have noticed. “That was a close one,” he agreed.
    Maybe it was an inside joke, but Jess had no idea whatthe two were talking about. Apparently she needed to watch the early morning news while she rushed about getting ready in the mornings. Never going to happen.
    As if he’d gathered her confusion from her expression, he explained, “I promised a client I’d bring her no-good-cheating husband back to Birmingham for prosecution. He’d cleaned out her bank account and run off with the housekeeper.” Corlew shook his head. “I told her she could chop off my hair if I failed. That bastard was halfway across Texas headed for Mexico when I caught up with him. Got him back here about midnight last night.”
    The ponytail was vintage Corlew. He’d had it all through high school. Jess imagined the only time he’d been without it was during his stint in the Marines and his tenure with the department.
    Their burgers arrived, and Jess lost herself in the food that strangely tasted better than anything she’d ever eaten in her entire life. She couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed a simple burger more. If she’d been at home alone she would’ve licked her fingers when she finished. If she kept eating like this she was going to outgrow the new wardrobe she’d been forced to buy when her motel room and all her stuff was vandalized a couple of weeks ago.
    “What can I do for you ladies today?” Corlew asked when he’d knocked back the last of his sweet tea.
    The way Jess heard it, booze was his refreshment of choice. His inability to abstain when on duty had helped kill his career. Maybe he was one of those who resisted until after five o’clock.
    “You interviewed a Mr. Patrick from Alabama Power as well as several of his meter readers thirteen years ago after the last abduction associated with the Man in the Mooncase.” Jess dug out her spiral notepad and surveyed the scribbling she’d done there. Corlew wouldn’t be surprised at the question. Even if he’d missed Dan’s press conference last night he no doubt had contacts on both sides of the law.
    “I did. Patrick was the field supervisor over the meter readers who worked the routes of the victims’ homes in that case, including the little Myers girl’s house.”
    That he fiddled with his glass and checked his cell as he spoke set off warning bells. “Why isn’t there a report in any of the case files you worked?” Reports got lost or misplaced occasionally, but on a case this high profile and well documented with Black in charge—Black was a stickler for the rules—an error this big didn’t seem likely.
    Corlew frowned, shrugged one shoulder. “I did several reports.” He leaned to the side as if looking for the waitress. “I interviewed every damned one of those meter readers. Not that it mattered. Harold Black was right about that—it was a dead end—but we wanted to make sure we covered all the bases.”
    And yet, the reports of those interviews weren’t in the files. That her old friend appeared so fidgety seemed all the stranger. “You didn’t feel any of the men you interviewed were potential suspects?” Jess was really hoping to find a lead. Soon. Whatever Corlew knew, he didn’t appear ready to give it to her just yet. That was, she decided, his new MO. Then again, knowledge was power. Corlew had made plenty of bad decisions in his life but no one could accuse him of being dumb.
    “A couple were a little peculiar,” he said finally. “Religious zealots. But this is Alabama—you see some of that from time to time.” Corlew pointed to his glass for a refill as the waitress made a pass around the tables in theirsection. “But you have to ask yourself: How would they get to the kids? What would make a child open her window to a meter reader she probably hadn’t seen more than once or twice in recent memory? These guys do their meter