Switch by Grant McKenzie Read Free Book Online

collect on the house, but something went wrong . . .’ He left the theory hanging there, like live bait.
    Sam closed his eyes for a moment, attempting to regain control of his emotions. ‘What good does collecting on a house do if the bank owns it all?’
    ‘Good point,’ Hogan agreed, still trying to be friends.
    Sam turned to Preston. ‘And as you’ve investigated my finances, you also know that none of us had life insurance. So where’s your fucking motive now?’
    Preston snorted. ‘Money is only one motive for killing a wife.’
    ‘And child?’ Sam’s voice was ice.
    ‘We’re still looking into that.’
    Sam rubbed his face with both hands. His palms were gritty and the friction pulled at his skin, causing tiny tracks of pain. The sensation was an unpleasant comfort.
    ‘If it was my fault,’ he said quietly, ‘something I did or fucked up somehow, you won’t even need a trial. I’ll gladly slit my own throat.’
    ‘We’ll hold you to that,’ Preston said.
    Hogan flashed his partner another annoyed look before reassuring Sam.
    ‘We know you were at work when this tragedy occurred,’ he said. ‘We’re just trying to figure out how or why it happened.’
    Sam picked at the corner of the tabletop with his thumbnail. Mute.
    ‘Do you know anyone who drives a large Mercedes?’ Hogan asked.
    Sam looked up, eyes narrowing. ‘No. Why?’
    ‘A neighbour saw a four-door sedan parked across from your house at the time of the explosion. The neighbour believes it was ametallic Mercedes, although the explosion knocked out the street lights and it was difficult to see. A man in a dark suit drove it away before the police arrived. The witness says it’s possible the man was injured in the blast. Naturally, we would like to talk to him.’
    ‘You checked the hospitals?’ Sam asked.
    Behind him, Preston snorted.
    Hogan nodded. ‘Nothing yet.’
    Sam chewed the lining of his inner cheek as he rolled the information around in his head to see where it fit.
    ‘Anything you’re not saying?’ Preston asked.
    ‘Like what?’
    Preston walked forward until he was looming over Sam. ‘Maybe this man was waiting for you to get home; collect on some outstanding debts. Gambling, drugs, underage women. You know, the kind of things you Hollywood types enjoy.’
    If Sam hadn’t been feeling so suicidal, he would have laughed. ‘I never made enough to start pissing it away, Detective. You would know that if you read my bio.’
    ‘I did,’ Preston said. ‘Even Googled your name.’
    ‘Doubt I showed up.’
    ‘Got a couple hits from when you played a scumbag on
Magnum
.’
    ‘Long time ago.’
    ‘That must rankle.’
    Sam shrugged. ‘You move on.’
    ‘The wife make you give it up?’ Preston pushed.
    ‘It was mutual.’
    ‘Yeah.’ Preston grinned, showing teeth. ‘Come on, man to man, it’s never mutual. The wife barks and we either get in line or get the fuck out, right?’
    Sam stayed silent, a building rage warming his cheeks.
    ‘She made you give up your dream – lights, action, the works – and you fucking hated her for it. Everything changed because of the kid, right? Can’t play dress-up any more when you got responsibilities.’
    ‘Fuck you!’ Sam’s fist slammed on to the tabletop. ‘You know nothing about me or Hannah or MaryAnn . . .’ His voice broke, anger turning to tears. ‘You just . . . don’t know.’
    Sam lowered his face into the crook of his arms and began to sob.
    Detective Hogan, his face impassive, glanced at his partner. Preston shrugged and slowly walked back to the window. He looked down on the scurrying ants in their colourful array of matchbox cars.
    A few drops of rain splashed against the glass as if in sympathy for the broken man weeping inside.

15
    Sam stood on the sidewalk outside the Justice Center, unsure of where to go. The detectives had offered him a ride, but Sam declined. They had told him not to leave town, but didn’t offer any alternatives for