Finally Barry Strickland was standing there, crooking his finger in what apparently was a departmentally approved gesture.
He led me to a small, windowless room with a mirror on one wall.
I tried to imagine a person actually believing that an interrogation room should be cheerful.
The examiner who told me to call him Justin looked exactly like Bill Gates.
This doesnt hurt, doesnt do any damage of any kind.
Hes already shown you these questions, is that correct?
Justin asked in sort of a nerdy drone.
Yes, I answered, swallowing.
One of them, Do you know who killed Alan Lottner?
was making me sweat already.
Alan sensed my nervousness.Dont worry, Im here with you,he murmured.
I didnt have any way to inform him that his being here with me was why I was worried.
Is your name Ruddick J. McCann?
Okay, good!Alan praised.
Mr. McCann, are you feeling well today?
Yes, I answered formally.
Justin shook his head.
No, that wasnt a control question, Im just asking.
Are you currently taking any medication?
Justin pursed his lips.
Lets try another one.
Are you a resident of Kalkaska?
Justin cocked his head, considering.
Somethings not right,Alan observed.
I will ask you a question, and I want you to deliberately lie.
This is called a directed question, okay?
Mr. McCann, are you a resident of East Jordan?
Justins eyes widened in surprise.
He looked up at me.
And youre not, right?
You list your address as Kalkaska.
Youre not from East Jordan.
I mean, yes, Im from Kalkaska.
Excuse me for a moment.
He stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Whats going on?Alan asked.
I glanced at the mirror on the wall.
Im probably being filmed, here, I stated, sounding like I was announcing it to myself.
A few minutes later Justin was back, unhooking me from his machine.
The sheriff would like to see you now, he told me, appearing unhappy.
I, too, was less than joyous.
The sheriff would like to see you now sounded like yo report to the principals office.
The examination is over?
Justin the Bill Gates impersonator gave me a bland, sorry your box crashed pop in of look.
Stricklands eyes were cold and he didnt offer me any coffee.
His toothpick jabbed out at me from the corner of his mouth.
Grubb says there was a problem with your polygraph, he told me.
Grubb, I deduced, was Justin Grubb the Bill Gates impersonator.
Apparently he, too, had lost stock with the sheriff today.
He didnt really ask me any questions, I responded a bit defensively.
I think I know why that might be, Alan mused thoughtfully.
Well, I have no idea why that should be.
I didnt do it deliberately, I protested.
The sheriff regarded me for a long moment.
You know what Ive got on the murder of Alan Lottner?
he finally asked me.
I shook my head.
You, thats what Ive got.
You knew where to find him, you knew who he was before we dug him up.
Stricklands eyes were hard and unforgiving.
I sighed in frustration.
You shouldnt have told him you dreamed it,Alan coached.
I read about it in the newspaper, I said.
Read about what in the newspaper?
I had this dream that someone was buried in the woods, and I wondered who it might be.
There arent that many people who disappear like that, up here.
Strickland considered my statement while I shifted uncomfortably under his stare.
That doesnt make any sense,Alan noted helpfully.
Wait here, he said curtly, leaving the office.
Alan, do you think this is helping?
I demanded as soon as the door was shut.
Im just offering constructive criticism,he responded defensively.
Alan made a miffed sound but I was in no mood to apologize.
I wiped sweaty palms on my jeans.
After a few minutes Strickland came back in and sat in his chair, regarding me warily.
The librarian confirms you spent a couple of hours going through the microfiche.
Why didnt you tell me this before?
Because I didnt think youd believe me.
I mean, I know how weird it must sound, me dreaming about it.
He gave me a long stare, like he didnt know quite what to do with me.
We had a psychic one time on a missing child, waste of time.
The little girl was taken by her uncle, just like we all figured.
Is that what you are, a psychic?
Everyone in northern Michigan seemed to have psychics on the brain.
He didnt mention it, though, surprising me with his next question.
You hear voices in your head sometimes, Ruddy?
How did you
I hear youve been spending some time with Deputy Timmss fiancee, he interrupted.
Theyre not engaged!Alan and I blurted together.
Strickland arched his eyebrows at my reaction.
She told me they were only talking about getting married, sir, I explained more calmly.
The sheriff stood up and stared out his window.
A gray fog was rolling through the town, erasing the details of the trees visible from his office.
Its my job to protect the citizens of this county, he told me after a minute.
Tell him youre a citizen, too,Alan urged.
Yes sir, but Im a citizen, too, I said.
Strickland turned back to me.
Youre an ex-con, he corrected icily.
Youve got psychiatric issues.
And youre running some kind of game here, I just dont know what.
Probably taking advantage of Alans family.
I want you to stay away from Katie Lottner.
I responded without thinking.
Probably not too many people said that word to Strickland.
His face turned dark.
I jumped agitatedly to my feet.
Look, do you think I wanted this?
I didnt ask to dream about Alan Lottner.
I didnt even know the guy!
Youve been saying you did know me,Alan murmured.
I mean, Ive been saying I did know him but I didnt, okay?
I just had this dream, this horrible …
I squeezed my hands into fists.
I came here to tell you about it.
If I hadnt, you never would have found him and we wouldnt be having this conversation.
You will sit in that chair until I tell you otherwise.
I sat back down.
Strickland regarded me for a long moment.
But on one thing Im very clear.
I will not have you messing with Katie Lottners head.
Shes burying her father tomorrow and in her state of mind you probably look like some kind of hero.
You mean theyre having a funeral for me tomorrow?Alan demanded.
You tell her about Lisa Marie Walker?
She know about the voices?
I just stared at him.
Heres where we stand.
Im going to continue my murder investigation.
Im tired of your brand of happy horseshit.
Strickland opened his door and stuck his head out into the hallway.
He turned back to me.
The deputy will take you back home.
I truly hope I dont have to talk to you again, McCann.
My neck was bent as I followed the deputy out to the patrol car and slid inside.
The sky was dark and his windshield wipers came on before wed gone a mile.
The deputy didnt have much to say, either.
Jimmy slid up next to me.
Hey, Ruddy, here.
I looked blankly at the wad of money he was shoving at me.
No, hey, you should hang on to it.
I stared into Jimmys guileless eyes and then took a full survey of the room.
Several tables had people sitting at them, doing something almost unheard of at the Black Bear: eating.
Ive got to run.
Maybe if it slows down we can play some pool later?
If you think we can beat them, I said, pointing to the kids.
Jimmy shrugged, grinning.
We talked about this, Jake.
You have to love me more.
Im the one who feeds you.
Yeah, his look said, but you dont let me up on the bed.
I eased down onto the floor and put my arms around my dog.
Alan was still asleep and I felt unusually alone in the world.
Jake seemed to sense it, his pink tongue coming out for a reassuring lick.
As soon as he woke up the next day, Alan started talking.
I dont want any part of you mingling with any part of me, Alan, I said.
Then he wanted to talk about his funeral.
We were going to go, werent we?
Would Marget be there, even though she had divorced him?
Was it going to be at Burbys?
That made sense, but what nerve the man had.
How come youre not answering me?Alan asked after a while, sounding frustrated.
You seem to be doing a good job of holding up both ends of the conversation, I noted.
Well, maybe thats because youre not saying anything.
I didnt say anything.
Just call me Mr. Whats wrong?Alan pressed.
You mean besides having a dead man in my head who wont shut up?
