Perilous by E. H. Reinhard Read Free Book Online Page B

meeting with me. What is the status of that warrant?”
    “He’s at the front desk?” Hank smiled. “Get the hell out of here.”
    “Jenny says he’s up front.”
    “Take him to box one and just start talking. We’re going to need to match that blood, or we’re going to need his prints from behind the dash before we can get a warrant.”
    “Do you want to sit in with me, Hank?”
    Hank patted his hands against the armrest of his chair. “Absolutely.”
    “I’ll be on the other side of the glass,” Bostok said.
    “Cap, can you have Rick or Pax ready to take a cheek swab for DNA?”
    “Yeah, I’ll call down and get one of them.”
    “Okay. I’ll go grab him from the front,” I said.
    I walked from the captain’s office, through the bullpen, to the front counter. Through the door’s safety glass, I could see a man sitting on the bench. Jenny pointed to the guy, jerked her chin at him, and buzzed me through. I walked into the lobby. A quick glance left and right confirmed he’d come alone—no attorney. I was still having a hard time believing he showed.
    “Mr. Riaola?”
    He got up and stretched out his hand for a handshake. He was of average weight and stood around six feet. “Yes. Are you Lieutenant Kane?”
    I gave him a quick handshake and nodded. “I am. Follow me back.”
    Jenny buzzed us through. I walked Riaola to interview room one and had him take a seat.
    I looked down at him. He was dressed business casual, a gray polo shirt tucked into a pair of khakis. A little gray was mixed in with his short brown hair. A trimmed goatee wrapped his mouth and chin.
    “Do you want a coffee or something from the lunch room?” I asked. I have to go grab my file quick.”
    “I’m fine right now,” Riaola said.
    “Sure. I’ll be back in a minute.”
    I closed the door at my back and looked into the observation room. Hank and the captain sat inside.
    “Looks like your average, everyday husband,” Hank said.
    “Did you expect him to be carrying a knife block?” I asked.
    Hank shrugged. “Lunch room trip?”
    I waved for him to come along.
    From my office, I grabbed the case file and all the notes I’d compiled. Hank and I headed to the lunch room for our normal interview offerings even though Riaola had stated he was fine. I wanted to grab a coffee anyway. I was planning on questioning the guy until we got word back on the fingerprints. After I got the coffee, we walked back to the interview room and took our seats.
    “Mr. Riaola, this is Sergeant Hank Rawlings,” I said. “He’ll be sitting in with us today. Just so you are aware now, this interview is going to be recorded.”
    “Why?” Riaola asked.
    “Just in case any little things are mentioned that may seem insignificant now but could eventually help us capture who did this to your wife. It’s standard procedure.”
    He nodded.
    “We grabbed you a few things from the lunch room just in case,” Hank said. He slid a bottle of water and a bag of chips toward him.
    “Shall we begin?” I asked.
    “Yeah, I guess,” he said.
    I took a moment to think before I began—while I wanted to lay into him about lying and grill him about how he’d gotten back in time to make the appointment, I had to take things easy. If I got on him too hard right out of the gates, he would clam—and lawyer—up.
    “First, I want you to know that we will be doing everything in our power to find who did this. Your wife’s murder will not go unpunished,” I said.
    “Did you find the guy she was dating?”
    “Sergeant Rawlings here spoke with him. He checked out.”
    Riaola was silent.
    I began some easy questioning. I tried to avoid anything that would make him think we were looking at him as our prime suspect. I spent the first part of the interview talking about his wife and their last few weeks together. We went over it for roughly twenty minutes. He played the role of emotional husband to perfection. If I didn’t know about the blood found in his rental