When we were back in the car, I found some takeout napkins in the detective’s center console. I used those to wipe off my pant leg.
“Thanks for your help,” he said. “You handled all of that pretty well.”
“It’s all right.”
“You know how to talk to people. It’s something they can’t teach at the academy.”
“There was a lot of anger in him. Not that I can blame him for most of it.”
“I’d stay away from him if I were the husband. At least for a while.”
“I wasn’t about to tell him my wife’s going to Wayne State, too. Which I guess would make me just as bad.”
Bateman shook his head. “You can’t blame the whole city. It’s a good school.”
“Yeah, tell that to him.”
He pulled out onto Twelve Mile Road, heading west. Away from the freeway that would take us back to the precinct.
“Where are we going now?” I said.
“I’ll give you one guess.”
All we had to do was cut down Orchard Lake Road to Eleven Mile and we were at the town house owned by Tanner Paige and the late Elana Paige. It was nothing near as impressive as the Grayson house, but what the hell, they were still relatively young, only married a few years, no kids yet. A little town house in Farmington Hills was all they needed.
“I actually tried to call him,” Bateman said as we pulled into the lot. “Yesterday. Then today. I haven’t gotten an answer yet.”
We went to the front door and rang the bell. It was one those places with four separate town houses in one building. Then another building next to it, looking exactly the same. Then another and another.
Nobody answered the door. Bateman rang the bell again. After a few seconds passed, we both looked at each other, and I could tell the same thought was hitting us at the same time.
“You don’t suppose…” he said.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
He stepped back and looked up at the second-story windows. “I think the lights are on up there. It’s hard to tell in the daylight.”
I was picturing our grieving husband either hanging in the closet or else lying face up on the bed, an empty pill bottle on the floor beside him. I was wondering if that was a suspicion I should be calling in to the station immediately, so we could get someone out here to open the door. Or better yet, at least find out what kind of vehicle he was driving, so we could check the parking lot before doing anything else.
Then the front door opened.
Tanner Paige stood there in the doorway. We’d already seen some red eyes that morning. Tanner’s set a new standard. He was wearing a robe, sweatpants, and slippers. He obviously hadn’t shaved, showered, or done anything else for himself since that first evening we saw him. You couldn’t have drawn a better portrait of a man who’d given up on everything.
“Mr. Paige,” Bateman said. “We’re sorry to bother you. Are you okay?”
He just looked at us like he’d forgotten the English language.
“Mr. Paige, can we do anything for you? Come on, let’s go inside.”
He pushed the man backward, into the town house. Mr. Paige didn’t offer any resistance. He let himself be led to the couch in the living room. He let himself be lowered into a sitting position.
“Have you been eating?” Bateman said. “What can we get you?”
He gave me a quick nod, and I went into the kitchen. The whole town house was just as much a wreck as the owner. He didn’t have a maid to keep things in order, like his in-laws.
“Mr. Paige,” I heard Bateman say, “you need to have someone here to help you. Is there somebody you can call?”
“My wife,” the man said, finally speaking. “You can call my wife.”
A warm half gallon of milk was sitting on the counter. I opened it and poured it right down the sink. Then I heated up some water and found some tea bags. I wasn’t sure what else to do.
The in-laws all have each other, I thought. I didn’t know why this man was left alone like this. It was clearly driving him insane.
When the tea was ready, I brought it into the living room and put it on the table in front of the couch. Mr. Paige looked at it like he wasn’t quite sure what it was.
“Here, drink this,” Bateman said, picking up the mug. “This might help you feel better.”
Mr. Paige took the mug. He gave it an experimental sip. Then he closed his eyes and began to drink. I knew it was a little too hot to drink this fast, but I wasn’t about to stop him.
When he was done, he took a few deep breaths. Then he opened his eyes and looked back and forth between us.
“Detective Bateman,” he said. “Officer McKnight, was it?”
I nodded.
“You’ll have to excuse me. It’s been a rough couple of days. I haven’t slept at all since… I mean, if I do I just have these nightmares where she’s…”
“It’s okay,” Bateman said. “We understand.”
“I assume you have news,” he said, putting the mug down. “Have you caught him yet?”
“I’m afraid not,” Bateman said. “But we were down the road at the Graysons’. So I thought we’d stop by.”
“I don’t understand. Why come out here if there’s nothing to tell us?”
“Your father-in-law asked us to come out. He’s going to put together a reward for any information leading to an arrest.”
“Is that going to make any difference?”
“It usually does, yes. A large sum of money tends to make people get over their reluctance to call the police.”
“Okay,” Mr. Paige said, nodding slowly. “Okay. So that’s good. That should do it, right?”
“We hope so.”
“Detective Bateman,” he said. “That first night… I think you promised us that you’d catch this guy. Didn’t you?”
“I’m sure I promised you that I’d do everything I can to catch him, yes.”
“No, no. You said, ‘I promise you, we’ll catch this guy.’ Or words to that effect. But that was the message. We’ll catch him.”
“I don’t remember exactly what my words were,” Bateman said, hesitating. “You understand, we can only do what we can do. Some things are out of our control.”
“All right, so if you said that and you don’t really mean it, then promise me something else.”
Bateman looked over at me.
“What is it you want us to promise you?” I said.
“Promise me that if you catch this guy, you won’t take him right to the station.”
“I don’t understand. Where else would we-”
“Bring him here,” Mr. Paige said, grabbing my arm. “That’s all I ask. Bring him here for one hour. So I can have him first.”
Bateman dropped his head and rubbed his forehead. Mr. Paige kept his eye contact with me, his grip still tight on my arm.
“You have to promise me,” he said. “I’m not letting you go until you do.”
“Mr. Paige,” I said. “You know we can’t bring him here. That’s not how it works.”
He kept squeezing my arm, with surprising force for a man who probably hadn’t eaten a real meal in three days. Then he let go.
“God, listen to me,” he said. “I’m so sorry, guys. I’m just…”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I’d probably be thinking the same thing, believe me.”
“I don’t know what to do,” he said. “What thing do I do next?”
“Maybe we can send somebody over to talk to you,” Bateman said. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow, too. And the day after that. Okay? We’re not going to let you face this alone.”
“I appreciate that,” he said. “But at the end of the day, I’m the one who has to try to sleep in that empty bed.”