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“Oh right, you told us that. I’ll make the parks and rec calls while you bar-hop.”
“Thank you.” And then she was going to take a nap without even being nagged to do so.
Chula Vista, California
Wednesday, April 20, 3:15 p.m.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Sam said as he and Laura sat on Rayna Copely’s threadbare sofa. He’d been surprised when Colton’s third ex-wife had readily opened her apartment door when they’d knocked.
Rayna was only twenty-four years old, but she looked forty. She was thin to the point of being gaunt. Her expression held a bone-deep weariness that trudged hand in hand with desperation.
She sat on an equally threadbare chair. “I got a call from one of Colton’s old ‘buddies.’ ” She used air quotes. “He’d gotten a call from wife number four, who asked him to tell me that you might be coming by.”
Sam should have realized that Veronica Gadd would share their discussion with the man she trusted. Who’d saved her from Colton.
“You’ve stayed in touch with Colton’s old friend, Brian?” he asked.
“No. I never met him, but I’d heard plenty about him. Colton used to rag on him, complain that when he needed him, Brian deserted him. I think Brian just didn’t want Colton to fuck his life up, too. Anyway, he apologized for not being there to help me when I was married to Colton. He got number four out safely and wished he’d known to do the same for me.” She tilted her head. “I talked to the cops already. Didn’t have much to tell them, though. They asked about Colton’s friends, but he didn’t have any.”
“That’s what we’re hearing,” Sam said. “You weren’t married to Colton for very long.”
Laura had found the marriage certificate and divorce decree. The union had lasted only four and a half months.
“I wised up quick. I was a stupid seventeen-year-old when I met him. Married him on my eighteenth birthday. I was in foster care and not lucky enough to have a good home. No abuse, but it was miserable. Colton was going to be my ticket out.”
“But then he abused you,” Sam said.
She nodded. “The first time he hit me, he was so sorry. Classic story, I know.”
Sam smiled sadly. “Classic for a reason. But you did leave.”
“After the third time. I went to a women’s shelter in the city and they gave me a place to stay while I got my life together.” She waved a hand at the small apartment. “It’s not much and I have to work three jobs to feed myself, but it’s mine and I don’t have to depend on rats like Colton.” Rayna shrugged. “For the first month with him, everything was amazing. Or so I thought. I had food, a place to sleep, and a person who said he’d take care of me. Then he lost his job, and everything changed.”
“He worked in IT,” Laura said.
“He did. But he lost his temper and it was, like, his third strike, so he was out. Seemed like everyone knew he had an anger issue but me.”
“Third strike?” Sam asked. “So he’d had previous altercations at work?”
“Apparently. The office was sending him to therapy for anger management, but that didn’t take.”
That was a surprise. “He was in therapy?” Sam asked.
“For the first month we were married, yes. It had started before that, but I don’t know how far back. I didn’t know the guy was his therapist at the time—Colton would come home and talk about his ‘best friend.’ How they did all these things together. How the guy was famous, richer than God, had box seats at Dodger Stadium, and how they’d be going to the games. Then, after Colton got fired, he lost his insurance. He got a job in a mail room downtown right away, but that job’s insurance didn’t cover his therapy. His ‘best friend’ cut him loose when he couldn’t pay for the sessions, and that’s when Colton got violent.”
This was important. This other therapist might have more information about Colton. Although the man hadn’t come forward when Colton was declared a serial killer. Then again, he wouldn’t have been able to, even if Colton had confessed to old murders.
Duty to warn was the key. If the therapist hadn’t felt that there was any imminent danger to a living person, he wouldn’t have come forward.
Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask.
“Did Colton threaten his therapist?” Sam asked.
“Oh yeah. All the time after the guy dumped him. Colton said he’d get back at him. That he’d make him pay, that he ‘knew things’ about him that would ruin him.” She shrugged. “He ranted like that about actors and politicians, too, so I didn’t pay much attention until he took out a business card and cut it into little pieces. I pulled the pieces out of the trash can and put them back together.” Her expression grew grim with memory. “Colton caught me. That was beating number three, the same day I walked away with the clothes on my back. I hitchhiked to a church, and they set me up with the women’s shelter.”
“Do you remember the therapist’s name?” Laura asked, seemingly on the same wavelength as Sam.
Rayna frowned. “I don’t. I might have written it down in my journal, but I’d have to hunt for the right volume. Is it that important?”
