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Blood spatter on paperback, same type as victim
Smashed cell phone UPDATE: also Katherine Graves’s
Blood on the gum packaging and pink lipstick on the cigarette were all that stood out as new tidbits. The former could have happened when Katherine hit the shooter. Though he was wearing a balaclava, he could have spit blood when she’d struck him. The blood type was the most common on the planet, so not exactly a huge help.
Blair also confirmed the shooter was five eleven. She concluded this from the security tape on the door just as Amanda had. But the investigator included the estimated height for the woman as five six. This was most likely determined by a series of comparisons and calculations based on surrounding structures.
Still, none of this got them anywhere quickly. DNA typically took weeks, if not months, to process. New technology could trim this down to one or two hours, but it hadn’t come to the county yet. That left them needing to root through every other possible lead until it either gave up a diamond or a lump of coal.
The phone records, GPS history, and financials could help, but they had an appointment to keep. If she had faith in a greater being, this would be the time she’d pray for a break in the case.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The video interview was taking place in the conference room of Central. Amanda was always self-conscious about seeing herself staring back from the small window in the corner of the screen.
Trent was seated next to her, a sliver of elbow space between them. The tight quarters were necessary for them both to fit into the frame of the camera.
On screen was Natasha Bauer. She was late forties and the well put-together package expected of an ADA.
It was just a few minutes to five and they were waiting on prison guards to escort in their first interview subject. It gave them enough time to get acquainted and for the ADA to offer her bits of wisdom.
“I figured we’d start with Ollie Rush, and then hit up the other two,” Natasha told them. “Both have narcissistic leanings. Also a reminder, these guys are hardened from life on the streets. They follow one code, and it’s not blue. Don’t tiptoe around them, and don’t bother feeding them a sob story. They won’t care. If anything, they’ll find it amusing.”
That advice mimicked Daisy Bright’s about Barry Holden. These were gang members from a huge city though. They’d be more anti-cop than any thugs here and had been tied up in sex trafficking. Their humanity had died a long time ago. “We have experience in dealing with these types,” Amanda pointed out.
“Yes, I apologize if I am coming across as condescending in any way, Detective. I read about you online. I know you and your partner were involved in taking down a sex-trafficking ring there in Prince William County two years back. I just want this to go as smoothly as possible.”
A metal door clanged open.
Natasha turned from the camera, then back to them. “Mr.Rush is here with his lawyer, Quinn Gray.”
Natasha sat in another chair that put her back to the camera, allowing Trent and Amanda to face Ollie and Quinn.
“This is a waste of time, Ms.Bauer. As you know, my client can’t be involved with what you mentioned over the phone.” Quinn was slimy and slick from his designer suit to his gelled black hair.
“Save your breath, counselor. No accusations have even been made. These are Detectives Steele and Stenson with the Prince William County PD, stationed out of Woodbridge, Virginia.”
“That’s a long way from New York City,” Quinn said dismissively.
“The modern world is quite small, Mr.Gray,” Amanda retorted.
Quinn didn’t bother to respond and glanced over at his client. Ollie Rush was in his thirties, of pale complexion, but most of his skin was covered by various tattoos. They stretched over his face, neck, and portions of his arms and chest that were exposed. The ink likely continued under his clothing. He had a piercing in his left eyebrow, three on his left ear, two on his right. His face was a blend of chiseled lines and sunken cheeks. His nose sat crooked, as if it had been broken and never set right. His shoulders were broad, and it would seem prison hadn’t been a cause for him to forego his workout routine. His mouth was set in a grimace and his eyes peered into the camera, the intent behind them unmasked. He was trying to be intimidating, and he wasn’t exactly failing at the endeavor. He certainly wasn’t someone Amanda would want to confront in a dark alley.
Amanda’s respect for Katherine Graves shot up knowing that not only did she go up against this guy, she brought his network down. Talk about ballsy.
“Let’s get to the point of this circus, shall we?” Quinn practically groaned as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest.
“Let’s,” Natasha said firmly. “Katherine Graves was abducted this morning.”
Ollie cast a side-glance at the ADA. A smirk toyed on his lips.
