“Yes, in a second, yes,” Wickersham said. “What do I need to do?”
Serrano eyed Tally. They were thinking the same thing. If Wickersham thought there was any chance he was the father of Constance Wright’s unborn child, there’s no way he’d offer to submit to a DNA test without a fight.
Tally took a red plastic bag labeled “Buccal Swab Kit” and tore open the top. She removed a pair of latex gloves, two swabs, and a small plastic tube. She slipped the gloves on, opened the tube, and told Wickersham, “Say aah.”
He opened his mouth, and Tally collected the sample. Then she put the swab in the plastic tube, screwed the top back on, and placed it in the plastic bag.
Both she and Serrano knew it would come back negative.
“We’re going to subpoena your bank account statements,” Tally said. “I’m going to personally review every single penny that’s come in and out of your accounts for the last ten years. And by that look on your face, we both know there’s going to be money you can’t account for legally. So let’s stop pretending. You didn’t bring down Constance Wright by yourself. So who helped you? If you’ll be a good boy and talk to us, you might not spend the next twenty years of your life making license plates.”
“Let’s start with the text messages,” Serrano said. His voice was soft, nonjudgmental. Now he wanted Wickersham to feel comfortable. “In court, there were texts between you and Constance.”
“They cloned her cell phone,” Wickersham said resignedly. He’d placed his hands behind his head, interlaced his fingers, and started to pace around the room. “They wrote up a script. Almost like a movie. They would send me texts from the cloned phone, and I responded on mine.”
“There were records of you paying for hotel rooms around Ashby,” Tally said.
“I’d rent a room out every now and then, just so they’d have a credit card receipt of me being there. And the desk clerks could testify that they’d seen me.” Wickersham looked up. “Everyone figured, Why the hell would this kid rent a hotel room for no reason? They just assumed I was telling the truth because—”
“It was a great story,” Tally said. “The mayor and the coffee boy.”
“Screw you, man; I wasn’t a coffee boy,” Wickersham shouted. “I was good at my job. It was just . . . I was making thirty-seven grand a year. My parents have lived in the same crummy house for forty years. I don’t have a ‘rich aunt.’ You know what thirty-seven grand buys you in Ashby? Three roommates and ramen for dinner.”
“It’s called paying your dues,” Serrano said. “I made fifteen five my first year on the force.”
“Well, good for you,” Wickersham said, dripping sarcasm. “I wanted a life.”
“So you stole someone else’s,” Tally said.
“That’s not true. Besides, after what her family did? They’re all crooks.” Then Wickersham grew concerned. “Wait, are you going to tell my boss about all this?”
“Your boss?” Tally said, laughing. “You’re worried about your job? Kid, you might spend the next few years of your life in prison.”
“No . . . ,” Wickersham said. “I . . . I can’t do that.”
“So tell us. Who paid you to be their patsy?” Serrano said. “Somebody wanted Constance Wright cleaned out and embarrassed. Who?”
Wickersham shook his head. “I feel like I need a lawyer.”
“If you’re guilty,” Tally said, “then sure. Call your lawyer. We want to know who killed Constance Wright. Where were you the night she died?”
“I was here,” he said, eyes level, deadly serious. “But I’ll swear on a Bible that I had nothing to do with it.”
“I’m not sure if God would be the best character witness for you. If you didn’t kill her, help us find who did. Make this right. You owe her.”
Wickersham went around the counter and removed his cell phone from a charging pad. He spent several minutes scrolling, then returned to the detectives. “Here you go.”
Serrano leaned in and looked at the screen, where Wickersham’s Contacts list was visible.
“Mr. X?” Serrano looked up, incredulous. “Seriously?”
“I never got a name,” Wickersham said. “So I called him Mr. X. He contacted me about a year before it all went down. From this number. Whoever it was knew everything about me. Everything. Knew my parents’ names, where they lived. That my dad had his hip replaced. That my mom likes pistachio ice cream. Hell, they knew I had a cocker spaniel named Titus growing up. It scared me half to death. They made it clear that if I didn’t cooperate, something bad would happen to me or my family.”
“All right,” Tally said. “Tell us everything.”
Wickersham nodded hesitantly. “I think I’m going to need to call a lawyer.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not yet,” Serrano said. “But that could change very quickly. So if you plan on going anywhere, and I mean anywhere, if you cross the street to get a bagel or go see a movie, you need to let us know. Terrible things happen in those holding cells.”
“Horrible things,” Tally added.
“Trust me,” Serrano said, “you don’t want to give us a reason to put you in one.”
“Things happen I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy,” Tally said.
At this point, Wickersham’s face had turned a shade paler than the half-and-half he’d poured into his coffee. But Serrano knew that if they arrested Wickersham, whoever had paid the kid would find out and circle the wagons. It was better to keep Wickersham out of prison—and scared.
“So now that we know you helped destroy an innocent woman for money,” Tally said, “this is your chance to make amends. We want to find out who paid you and why. Somebody wanted to ruin Constance Wright’s life.”
“I didn’t want that,” Wickersham said softly. “I just . . . I was in love. I wanted to be able to support her.”
“Aw, you were in love,” Serrano said in a mocking tone. “I’m sure whatever sorority girl caught your fancy appreciated your committing multiple felonies for her.”
“She wasn’t some sorority girl,” Wickersham said angrily. “She was special. And I was broke. I had no right to even be with her. We wanted to start a family, but I couldn’t support a kid on what I made. Then someone offered me more money than I’d make in twenty years. What was I supposed to do?”
“Well, definitely not what you did do,” Tally said. Wickersham was silent. He looked ashamed.
“Does this sweetheart of yours have any information about the payments from this Mr. X?”
“No,” Wickersham said. A little too quickly.
Tally said, “One more question, for now. Do you know anyone named Rachel Marin?”
Wickersham looked confused. “No. Why?”
“No reason,” Tally replied. “Let’s go, lover boy. We’re not done with you by a long shot.”
CHAPTER 20