Black Daylight by Scott Blade

Author:Scott Blade [Blade, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1790843162
Goodreads: 41828159
Publisher: Black Lion Media
Published: 2018-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

R OWER WENT in alone to the Reznor sheriff’s station. The layout was easy enough—a simple bullpen that doubled as the entrance. There were three desks laid out, two back to back, and one facing the entrance like a reception area. There was a phone on every desk, but only two computers—one at reception and another on the farthest desk.

Interesting, Rower thought. She had seen a lot of small sheriff stations. This one wasn’t that bad for the town it served.

Around the corner, through a door entryway, she saw a hallway with three cell doors.

She walked down and found the man called Jack Widow in the last one. He was standing a foot behind the bars, staring at her and waiting.

She walked to the center of the hall and stayed standing a good ten feet back. And then she looked Widow up and down, not blatant and rude like Roberts had done to her, but more like sizing him up, like most good cops did.

He recognized the movement.

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. She looked him in the eyes and walked right up to the bars.

She said, “Mr. Widow?”

Widow nodded. He noticed his passport in her hand.

She reached into her inner jacket pocket, popping her jacket open. He saw her hip holster and the exposed part of a Glock 22. She pulled out a faded black leather billfold. She flipped it and showed him her FBI badge and ID.

He looked at it.

The ID was behind a milky, plastic cover. There were an FBI badge and an ID card. He read the Department of Justice, the big FBI letters, and saw her designation as a special agent, along with her Federal ID number and name.

She spoke as he read the name.

“My name is Alaska Rower. I’m an Investigator with the FBI.”

Widow smiled and reached out his hand, offered it to her to shake.

He said, “Jack Widow. No fancy title other than that.”

She stopped, froze and stared at his hand.

Trust, she thought. But not with an attempted murder suspect.

She said, “I can’t shake your hand.”

“I know. Just wanted to see if you would.”

He pulled it back.

She put the badge, ID, and wallet back into her jacket.

“You understand why you’re in here?”

“I do. But I shouldn’t be in here.”

“Why’s that?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. ‘Sides breaking down a door. I suppose.”

“Why don’t you tell me the story?”

“I already told Shostrom. I’m sure he told you.”

“He did. But why don’t you tell me?”

Widow repeated the story. The gas station, being abandoned, deciding to take the road less traveled, seeing the lights, finding the dog, the girl, and the rug. He told her about carrying her and finding his way to Overly’s biker bar.

She listened. Didn’t take notes.

She said, “That’s it.”

“That’s it.”

“And you’re a drifter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“You got money?”

“They took my bank card.”

“They didn’t show it to me.”

“It’s probably in a desk drawer along with my toothbrush.”

“Toothbrush?”

“I carry one with me.”

“Are you obsessed with your teeth?”

Widow said, “It’s inconvenient to have to buy a new one all the time.

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