Hunsacker’s face turned scarlet. “Are you questioning my ethics?”
“I’m wondering if your relationship with Butch is making it impossible for you to view him objectively.”
Spittle shot from Hunsacker’s mouth as he clambered to his feet. “Because I’m demanding proof?”
“Because you’re ignoring the obvious!”
“Whoa, calm down.” Finch held up a hand to each of them but spoke to her. “The problem here is that what you’re saying not only contradicts Butch’s side of the story, it contradicts what his wife, his brother-in-law, his mother-in-law and his father-in-law are saying. So how do you expect the D.A. to take your word against that of all four people who live in the house, when you already have a history of overstepping your bounds?”
“A history of overstepping my bounds?” she echoed. “Give me a break! The first time I went there, it was just to speak with him. I was searching for a missing woman—and he was the last person to have seen her alive.”
“That doesn’t make him guilty,” Hunsacker said. “Whether he and April Bonner had an affair or not doesn’t matter. That’s not proof of murder.”
“He nearly attacked me with a baseball bat. Which, I might add, is how seven other victims have been killed in this area!”
Sweat began to bead on Hunsacker’s forehead. “But he didn’t beat you. You assaulted him!”
Francesca narrowed her eyes. “That’s probably what saved my life.”
“It’s cost you your credibility. That’s what it’s done.”
Jonah was the only one still seated. “Butch Vaughn is trouble,” he said. “Believe it or you’ll be sorry later.”
Hunsacker turned to Jonah. “Oh, so if you say it, we should take it as gospel, is that right? Why? Because you’re Mr. Big Shot from California? What have you been able to accomplish since you got here, huh?”
“Hunsacker, stop,” Finch said. “You know these investigations take time. We’ve hardly begun.”
“I didn’t want his help from the beginning. He’s no better than we are!”
Finch slanted Hunsacker a dark look. “I don’t want to get into that.”
“Whether you’re happy with what I did last night or not won’t change the truth,” Francesca said. “Butch had his mentally ill brother-in-law lock me in, and then he sicced his dog on me. All you have to do is get Dean to talk.”
Hunsacker smacked his forehead. “Oh, why didn’t I think of that? That should be easy to do. We just need to get him to turn on Butch, to bite the hand that feeds him. And if we could convince him, his testimony would be completely reliable, wouldn’t it? Considering he’s psychotic and hears and sees things that don’t exist!”
Finch spoke before Francesca could retort. “You say Butch locked you in and set the dog on you.”
Ignoring Hunsacker, she focused on him. “Yes.”
“I personally believe that. I have no reason not to. But did he also kidnap you from the van, where you were supposed to be, and carry you off to the salvage yard?”
Refusing to respond to a question he already knew the answer to, Francesca frowned at him.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “So, in other words, the incident last night could easily have been avoided if you’d stayed beyond the fence where you belonged, correct?”
“If you’re saying that makes it my fault—”
“It does make what happened your fault!” he told her. “How do you expect me to charge Butch with attempted murder when all the evidence supports his story instead of yours?”
“I told you. Dean is the key. He knows what happened, and he wants to talk. I bet his doctor would testify that as long as he takes his meds he’s coherent enough to know fact from fiction.”
Skepticism created grooves in Hunsacker’s jowls. “And you know you can get Dean to turn on Butch because the two of you are such great friends?”
Jonah tossed his pen on the table. “Not as close as you and Butch, apparently.”
“Why are you protecting her?” Hunsacker cried. “What is it with you? Are you hoping to get in her pants?”
Unfolding his lean body, Jonah towered over the short, round Hunsacker. “Do you have some kind of death wish?”
“Don’t you threaten me!”
Feeling guilty for dragging Jonah into this with her, Francesca hurried to interrupt him. “Stop it. You all heard what Dean said when I was wearing that wire.”
Hunsacker refused to look at her, wouldn’t take his eyes off Jonah. “I also heard him recant it.”
“So?” She glanced from one investigator to the other. “I’m telling you he wants to help us. He contacted me via my friend yesterday. He’s definitely reaching out. Why would he befriend the ‘enemy’ if he’s defensive of Butch?”
“Maybe he wants to get in your pants, too,” Hunsacker said.
She pinned him with a glare. “You’re an ass**le.”
Hunsacker chuckled. “Just calling it the way I see it, honey.”
She appealed to Finch instead. “The answers and proof we need won’t simply fall into our laps. We’ll have to work for it. I hope you don’t have a problem with that.”
“No. But I have a problem with this.” Retrieving the remote control from the eraser tray on the chalkboard behind him, Finch turned on the TV in the corner. A recording of the news came on. He fast-forwarded through the first few segments until he found what he wanted, then pushed Play.
Butch stood in his salvage yard next to an attractive female reporter. He was telling her all about this private investigator from Chandler who showed up one day and went snooping through his property, then ran to the police claiming he had a dead body in the salvage yard.
The camera panned to the mannequin as he pulled back the tarp. “This is what she was talking about,” he said.
“Nice effect, don’t you think?” Hunsacker piped up.
Too absorbed in what she was seeing to respond, Francesca watched Butch talk about how she’d said he attacked her but how she’d really attacked him. Then, of course, he showed the scratches on his face. Paris and his son stood by him, making him look like the consummate family man.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “What about his sex addiction and his cheating?”