Kelly sighed. “That’s the same thing the insurance company asked me,” he said, laughing nervously. “I guess they thought I was one of those people who report their cars stolen and torch them for the insurance money.”

“That’s not what we thought,” Mann said. “We thought you might’ve known the people who took the pickup and knew what they were going to do with it. We thought they might’ve given you some money to keep it quiet, but you got a conscience at the last minute and decided you’d report the truck stolen.”

Frank Kelly looked genuinely shocked. Then he looked angry. Finally, he just laughed. He laughed because he hadn’t done so in such a long time. He laughed because he didn’t want to cry in front of strangers. He laughed because the accusation was hilarious.

“I wish I would’ve thought of doing something like that,” he said, his tone angry and sarcastic. “If there was ever a time I needed to hook up with criminals, it would be now. I was laid off, and unemployment just ran out. My house is in foreclosure. My truck was just stolen. My life is in a shambles. I never thought of turning to crime, but who knows? Maybe it’s not too late.”

“You think this is a joke?” Coletti said, his eyes boring into him. “There are at least three people who’ve caught tougher breaks than you tonight. They’re dead, and we think the guy driving your pickup had something to do with it. So if you don’t want to go to jail as an accomplice, start talking. We don’t have time to play.”

Frank Kelly’s laughter disappeared as quickly as it had surfaced. “Look, I didn’t mean…” He stopped to compose himself. “I didn’t know you were talking about a murder case.”

Mann handed Kelly one of the printouts from the video camera. “This is your truck in the picture, right?”

He nodded.

“Do you know the guy who’s driving?”

He took a closer look at the picture. “I can’t see his face, but it might be one of the guys who stole it.”

“What did the guys look like?” Coletti asked.

Kelly looked up, clearly afraid. “There were two of them. Both of them were white, kinda pale, wearing black clothes with hats pulled down over their faces. It was late, around this time Sunday, and it was quiet out. I was about to go to bed when I heard this tapping sound and a door creaking open. I looked out the window and I saw these two guys. One of them was in my pickup and the other one was on the sidewalk, standing guard right under the streetlight.

“I rushed outside and the guy on the sidewalk turned around with a sawed-off shotgun in his hand. I guess he was about four feet away from me. I froze.