He rubbed his head, sighing. Part of it might have been that he’d scared them. Not the few at the beginning, because he’d been nice to them—so damn nice—but they hadn’t told him squat. He might have gotten a little hostile with the others.

Still. He gritted his teeth. “So much for freedom of goddamn information.”

He was becoming more confident that the kid knew something. If the press was to be believed, the cops were being very tight-lipped.

He saw me. Cade knew it. But this was a fourteen-year-old kid. He needed to be sure before he pulled the trigger.

He pressed his thumbs into his skull, forcing himself to think. What did he know? “Not fucking much,” he grumbled. Just that the kid’s name was Michael Rowland, he was Brewer’s stepson, and his mother was a haggard bitch who was either lying through her teeth or stupid, because her teenage son had not killed her child-selling bastard of a husband. I did.

He knew that Michael had probably been hiding that night, because Cade hadn’t seen him. He replayed the video report in his mind. He knew that the kid was a freshman at Albert Sabin High School. And that he was deaf.

Oh. Wait. If he’d talked to the cops, he’d have needed a translator or whatever those people were called. He pulled his tablet close and did a search on sign language translating services. There were only two that were local.

He scanned the page, looking for what, he didn’t know. He’d know it when he saw it. He hoped.

Okay, they were called “interpreters.” Both companies provided them for all kinds of different things—schools, hospitals, doctor and other medical professional visits, and legal proceedings.

Legal proceedings. He’d known that he’d know it when he saw it, and there it was. Only one person in each interpreting service was certified to interpret in court. So he was down to two people. He’d try one, then the other.

He frowned at his screen. How should he go about hiring an interpreter? Clearly he couldn’t just call and say he was the client. Could deaf people even use the phone? How did that even work?

Luckily there was an FAQ section that covered what he needed to know. Michael wouldn’t have hired his own interpreter, even if he had been an adult. The responsibility for hiring and payment of interpreters was that of the provider.

In this case, the court or the cops. Cade thought about it. If he were an attorney, he could call on behalf of his client. He could be Dennis Kagan again, the ID he’d been carrying yesterday. He’d told only the CSU tech his name, and that guy was dead, so he wouldn’t be repeating it.