Habit by T. J. Brearton Page B

But, we’ll clear all that up within a couple of hours. I just don’t understand how you can argue this kid’s culpability when he shows up and opens fire on you. I’ve been an investigator for thirty-one years. In that time I’ve learned two things. One, with a homicide, it’s family or close friends ninety percent of the time. Two, there are no coincidences.”
    “How is she?”
    For a moment, Delaney acted like he didn’t know who Brendan was referring to. Then he turned to look through the glass walls behind him at Olivia, talking somberly with Deputy Benedetto. “She’s fine. A couple of scrapes. Some bruising on her arm.”
    “I mean, mentally.”
    Delaney shrugged. He stopped leaning on the cabinet and stood up. “I don’t know. She’d know better how she was doing than I would. Look. You’ve got your evening cut out for you. Give your statement, don’t leave out a detail. I can be there if you need me. I’ll help you through. In the meantime, I’ll get the blood and toxicology report from the kid. I’m telling you, we’re going to match it up with the victim’s PERK, and it’s going to be case opened and closed in one fucking day. Some perverted family thing.”
    Brendan sighed. He didn’t have the energy to argue. And some of what Delaney was saying sounded convincing. It was tough to lobby for the innocence of Kevin Heilshorn given all the circumstantial evidence. None of it was enough to mount an ironclad case, not without the hard forensics, but Delaney seemed more than confident. He and Skene would be on the same page; a posthumous conviction was impossible anyway. They would be unable to pursue criminal prosecution against Heilshorn because a dead man couldn’t defend himself.
    Though pinning it on him would let them drop the case.
    Brendan closed his eyes. The world was dark for a moment, and then Kevin Heilshorn’s face swam into view. Brendan saw him staring up at the sky. He saw the blood spatter, showering the flowers and plants and vegetables. Then time moved backwards. In his mind, Kevin was standing in the garden, one hand on his neck, the other pointing the gun. Brendan pulled the trigger. Bang. Bang.
    His eyes fluttered open. He got to his feet. Delaney watched him closely.
    “I’ve got to get out of here for a minute,” said Brendan. “Get some fresh air.”
    “Sure,” said Delaney.
    Brendan left the room.

CHAPTER ELEVEN / THURSDAY, 8:18 PM
    It was now twelve hours, give or take a few minutes, since Rebecca Heilshorn had been stabbed to death in her own bed. Or at least, the bed in a house owned by her family. Brendan realized that other than her previous relationship with smiling-Don Kettering and that the house was not in her name, he knew very little about the victim. Not a good spot to be in after an entire twelve hours. Granted, it had been a very eventful day, but now he had to deal with Internal Affairs and sit and explain the events at Olivia Jane’s house. A necessary part of police procedure, but a hassle, and counterproductive to his needs.
    Brendan lit a Marlboro and looked at the dreary street in Oriskany. The sun was setting and the shadow of the Sheriff’s Department draped itself across the pavement. Brendan stepped off the curb and walked out into the street where the low sun burst from between two buildings, spangling him in light. He closed his eyes and dragged on his cigarette. He mused, just for a moment, how cigarettes were less of a concern to him later in the day than they were when he smoked in the morning.
    He wished he had time to speak with Olivia, but IA was waiting for him upstairs. The sooner he got to them, the sooner it would be over. The Sheriff would be there, too.
    Brendan tossed away his cigarette and returned into the three-story, grey building.
     
    * * *
     
    On the third floor, Brendan spoke with Internal Affairs, one man and one woman, for over an hour. Sheriff Taber sat with his arms folded. He was the man who had hired