Stevenson was the head of the detective division at Fort Walton Beach police station. Nearby Destin has no detectives. The drive felt like an escape. Deal had two thoughts on his mind. He prayed for a full recovery for Mercy and retribution for those bastards who had done this terrible thing to her.
The officer on reception duty was expecting Matt’s arrival. “Go straight through, Mister Deal,” he said, pointing at a double door leading through to an open plan detective office.
Mike Stevenson rose from his chair to shake Deal’s hand. “Thanks for coming in, Matt. I only wanted to appraise you of what’s happening.”
“Sure, I understand. Those fuckers admitted anything?”
“No. They lawyered up. Rich daddies, you know. All Georgia businessmen with dollar power.”
Stevenson saw Deal’s jaw drop. “Hey, no worries. We have them dead to rights. The DNA evidence will convict them.”
“Do you have that now?”
“No. It will take about four weeks for all the testing to be completed and the evidence served.”
“What happens next?”
“They will make their first appearance in court tomorrow. I’ve spoken with the DA. She will oppose bail.”
“Matt, there’s always a chance of them posting bail even if the judge sets it as high as one million dollars. These guys’ fathers have that kind of dough.”
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