Free Night and Day by Ken White Page A

to make that case, but the lab guys at Central are still working
the evidence,” Iverson replied. “But that’s not why you’re here. They haven’t quite connected
you to that one yet.”
    “I must be a busy guy,” I said. “If not them, who?”
    “Your partner,” Iverson said. “Joshua Thomas.”
    I opened my eyes. “What?”
    “Your pistol is at the ballistics lab at Central, and the report says the caliber and make is
right. I don’t know if they’ve finished the tests on it yet.” He paused. “They also haven’t found
the axe or whatever you used to chop off his head.” He paused again. “Might go easier if you
told me where you stashed the blade. And what you did with the head.”
    “Joshua’s dead?” It was a stupid question, but my mind wasn’t processing his words very
well.
    “You tell me,” Iverson said. “You killed him.”
    “Who’s lead on the case?”
    Iverson didn’t say anything.
    “Is Ray Holstein the lead?”
    He remained silent for a moment, then said, “Detective Sergeant Holstein is the lead on the
Thomas case, yes.”
    I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. “Thanks, Iverson.”
    “I’ll stop by before my shift ends, see if you need anything.” He paused. “Think about what
I said. If you cooperate, they might not be so rough on you.”
    I noticed that he didn’t say I’d get a break. He couldn’t. We both knew that I was a dead
man.
     
    Around what I guessed to be noon, a cop came by and shoved a tray under the bars. I
opened my eyes, saw the slop on the plate, and closed them again. I wasn’t hungry. An hour
later, the cop came back and took the tray away.
    Iverson, true to his word, stopped by a while later. He pitched another bottle of water into
the cell and said, “I’d drink that quickly. Night shift will be showing up in half an hour or so.
They probably won’t let you keep it.”
    I nodded.
    “You give any thought to what I said?”
    I knew he wasn’t doing me any favors. Easy or hard, I’d be dead before morning. But if I
gave him something useful to the investigation, it would give his career a nice little boost. I
didn’t hold it against him. In his place, I might have done the same thing.
    “Sorry,” I said, sipping from the bottle of water.
    “Sure,” Iverson said. “No hard feelings, huh? I had to ask.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “No hard feelings.”
    “So long,” he said. I closed my eyes and listened to his footsteps as he walked down the
hall. A door opened and moments later, slammed shut. Then it was quiet again.
    About twenty minutes later, Ray Holstein came into the cell.
    “You look like shit, Charlie,” Holstein said. “Face swollen up like that, I hardly recognize
you.”
    “Sorry,” I said. “I must have walked into a wall or something.”
    Holstein laughed. “That’s what I always liked about you. Always with a comeback.” He
paused. “Okay, on your feet.”
    I wasn’t sure I could stand, but I was going to give it a shot.
    “That’s it, Charlie,” Holstein said, watching. “Push yourself up that wall. There you go.
Almost there. Good.”
    I stood, swaying slightly, keeping my back firmly against the cold concrete-block wall. My
legs felt pretty wobbly, but I didn’t think I’d fall.
    “That was the easy part,” Holstein continued. “Now we’re going to go for a little walk, and
then a little ride.”
    A uniformed cop came into the cell. “The wagon’s here. You about ready?” He glanced
over at me. “Shit, you’re going to take him looking like that?”
    “What do you expect me to do?” Holstein said harshly, turning to the other cop. “Buy him a
new suit, put him in an ice bath for an hour to reduce the swelling?”
    “Sorry, Sarge,” the cop said.
    “He’s alive,” Holstein said, turning back to me. “Those were the orders, that’s what they
get. We’ll be out in a minute.”
    The cop nodded and quickly left the cell. Holstein took a couple of steps forward. “In