My stomach flips but I remain stone-faced. It’s customary for the accused to deny guilt. It’s unheard of for him to admit to the crime, especially at such an early stage. I never ask criminal defendants if they’re guilty; it’s a waste of time and they lie anyway. I proceed carefully with “So you know where her body is?”
“Let me get this straight, Sebastian. You’re now my lawyer and I can tell you anything, right? If I killed ten girls and hid their bodies and told you all about it, you couldn’t repeat a word, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Never?”
“There’s only one exception to the rule. If you tell me something in confidence, and I believe that it will endanger other people, then I am allowed to repeat it to the authorities. Other than that, I can never tell.”
Satisfied, he smiles and takes a drink. “Relax, I didn’t kill ten girls. And I’m not saying I killed Jiliana Kemp either, but I know where she’s buried.”
“Do you know who killed her?”
He pauses, says yes, then goes silent again. It’s obvious he’s not naming names. I reach into the fridge and get a beer for myself. We drink for a few minutes. He watches every move, as if he knows my heart is pounding away. Finally, I say, “Okay, I’m not asking for any information, but do you think it’s important for someone, maybe me, to know where she is?”
“Yes, but I have to think about it. Maybe I’ll tell you tomorrow. Maybe not.”
My thoughts turn directly to the Kemp family and their unspeakable nightmare. At this moment I hate this guy and would love to see him locked up, or worse. Sipping a beer in my van like he’s Joe Cool while the family suffers.
“When was she killed?” I asked, pushing it.
“I’m not sure. I didn’t do it, I swear. But she did not give birth in captivity, if that’s what you want to know. There was no baby sold on the black market.”
“You know a lot, don’t you?”
“I know too much and it’s about to get me killed. I may have to disappear, you know?”
“Taking flight is a clear sign of guilt. It will be used against you in court. I wouldn’t advise it.”
“So you want me to stay here and take a bullet.”
“The cops do not kill murder suspects, okay, Arch? Trust me on this.”
He crushes his can and leaves it on the table. “I got nothing else to say right now, Sebastian. I’ll see you later.”
“You have my number.”
He opens the door and gets out. Partner watches him as he glances around, looks for the cops, then enters the mall and disappears.
Partner and I drive straight to the bank. The check is no good. I call Arch for an hour and finally get him. He apologizes and promises the check will be good tomorrow. Something tells me I’d be a fool to believe him.
It’s 4:33 in the morning and my phone is ringing. I grab it and don’t recognize the number. This is always trouble. “Hello,” I say.
“Hey, Sebastian, it’s me, Arch. Got a minute?”
Of course, Arch. Oddly enough, I’m not that busy in the middle of the night. I take a deep breath and say, “Sure, Arch, I have a minute. But it’s four in the morning, so this better be good.”
“I’m out of town, okay, officially on the run. I shook ’em off and slipped through their net, and I’m not coming back, so they’ll never catch me.”
“Big mistake, Arch. Better find yourself a new lawyer.”
“You’re my lawyer, Sebastian.”
“The check is rubber, Arch. Remember what I said?”
“You still have it, run it through today. I swear it’ll clear.” His words are fast and clipped, and he sounds as though he’d been running. “Look, Sebastian, I want you to know where that girl is, okay? Just in case something happens to me. There are others involved, and I could easily end up on the short end of the stick, know what I mean?”
“Not really.”
“I can’t explain all of it, Sebastian. It’s complicated. I got folks after me, cops as well as some guys who make cops look like Cub Scouts.”
“Too bad, Arch. I can’t help you.”
“You ever see that billboard down the interstate, about an hour south of here, big bright sign in a cornfield, says, ‘Vasectomy Reversals.’ You ever see it, Sebastian?”
“I don’t think so.” Every reasonable thought and instinct tells me to cancel this call immediately. Just hang up, stupid. And never speak to him again. Physically, though, I freeze and cannot do it.
His voice is animated now, as if he’s thoroughly enjoying this. “ ‘Vasectomy Reversals by Dr. Woo. All insurance accepted. Call twenty-four hours a day. Toll-free number.’ That’s where she’s buried, Sebastian, under that billboard, right next to a cornfield. My father had a vasectomy two years before I was born, not sure what went wrong and my mother was certainly perplexed. Maybe she was seeing someone on the side. So who’s my daddy, right? I guess we’ll never know. Anyway, I’ve always had this fascination with vasectomies. A snip here and a snip there, drive yourself home and shoot blanks for the rest of your life. Such a simple procedure but such dramatic results. You had the Big V, Sebastian?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. You’re such a stud.”
“So you buried her, is that what you’re saying, Arch?”
