Hold Still by Lisa Regan Page A

trial.
    “He’s been clean for the last five years, unless you count the reckless driving ticket he got last year,” Kevin said as he squinted at the computer screen.
    Jocelyn leaned in toward the screen and scanned the report. “Five years, huh? Got shot in the throat five years ago. Suddenly stopped being a criminal? Unlikely.”
    Kevin shrugged. “Well, we know he hasn’t ceased all criminal activity. He just hasn’t been caught.”
    Jocelyn chewed her bottom lip briefly. “Five years ago, Warner had his first ever violent offense. I’m thinking we need to find out what went down five years ago and find out if Donovan was involved.”
    Jocelyn tried to pull up the file in the police computer, but there was nothing there. “That’s weird,” she said. “There’s nothing here. A mug shot, the summary of charges, and that’s it.”
    “No affidavit of probable cause? No reports?” Kevin wheeled his chair closer to hers and nudged her aside. His fingers worked quickly over the keyboard. He tried for ten minutes before a stream of expletives erupted from his mouth. “This makes no sense,” he said. “This kind of shit doesn’t just disappear.”
    Jocelyn leaned over and grabbed the phone. “The DA’s office will have it. They’ve got everything.”
    Kevin’s brow furrowed. “You calling Phil?”
    “Not Phil. His paralegal, Lori. I always liked her better than him anyway. She still sends Olivia birthday and Christmas presents.”
    Lori couldn’t find the file in the DA’s computer system, but she promised to look in their boxed files to see if she could locate anything—although it would likely take a couple of weeks to track down.
    “Something’s not right,” Kevin said when Jocelyn relayed the conversation. He popped another tab of Nicorette gum. “Well, I guess we might as well talk to these guys. We’re gonna be here all night as it is.”
    Jocelyn grinned and headed toward the steps. “Good luck talking, Kev. You can question Donovan. I’m taking Warner.”
    She waited for him to remember that Donovan couldn’t talk. She watched his blank expression turn to consternation. Then she took off down the steps, dodging the pen he threw at her. “You’ll need that pen for Donovan,” she called over her shoulder.

THIRTEEN
    October 6th
    In the interrogation room, Larry slumped in his chair, legs stretched out before him, his right foot moving ever so slightly back and forth. His arms were crossed in front of him. When Jocelyn entered, he remained still. Only his eyes flicked toward her, following her around the room. She pulled a chair toward him, its legs screeching over the tile floor. Sitting beside him, she turned her body to face his and rested one arm on the table.
    He spoke little during her introduction and muttered a “yes” indicating he understood his rights once she had Mirandized him. “So,” she began. “How long have you lived on North Sixteenth Street?”
    His eyes lost some of their jitteriness. “About ten years. It’s my mom’s house.”
    “What’s your mom do?”
    “She used to work for a doctor, medical assistant or something. She’s sick now.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that. Is it treatable?”
    He shook his head. “Nah, not really. She has a little bit of dementia. But the real problem is her lungs and heart. She needs oxygen. Doctors said she has CHF. Something heart failure.”
    “Congestive heart failure?”
    Larry nodded. “Yeah, that’s it.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that, Larry. It can’t be easy.”
    He shrugged.
    “Larry, do you know why you’re here?”
    He swiped at the top of his nose with one hand. His eyes darted away from her. “Don’t know,” he said. “Guess it’s about a woman.”
    “Yes, an escort. Her name is Anita Grant. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
    No response. The twitching movement of his right foot grew quicker.
    “Is this the first time you’ve picked up an escort online?” Jocelyn asked.
    Larry sat up slightly.