I don’t look at Ryker, instead I keep my eyes firmly planted on Ben. “I don’t trust him to ask the right questions.”
Detective Kincaid is seasoned and experienced, and in any other circumstance I’d trust him. The problem is, when it comes to Ellie, I don’t trust anyone.
Ryker exhales slowly, clearly trying to keep his patience contained. “You’re too close to this. That’s exactly why I’m not letting you in there. You know that.”
Finally, I turn to face him. “That kid is hiding something. You saw his phone. He’s been taking pictures of Ellie for weeks. And he’s got no damn business doing it. That’s not just weird—it’s predatory.”
After Ben turned over his phone, the digital forensics revealed countless images of Ellie.
“And that’s why he’s being questioned,” Ryker replies evenly. “But we don’t have enough yet to hold him. He hasn’t committed a clear crime, at least not one we can prove.”
I clench my fists, turning back to the glass. Kincaid is leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed as he tosses out a few seemingly casual questions, trying to put Ben at ease. My eyes zone in on him.
Vorheis steps in beside me, casting a glance at Ben through the one-way. “You think this kid’s got the balls to follow her in that sedan?”
“Maybe,” Ryker admits. “But we need more than maybes. Right now, all we have is suspicion, and we all know that’s not enough.”
My gaze doesn’t waver. “We need to tie him to the sedan. Get fingerprints, cross-reference his phone GPS with the locations Ellie was at when she got the texts.”
“And we’re working on it,” Ryker says. “But you need to cool down, or you’re going to blow this case wide open and give him an excuse to lawyer up.”
I shake my head, my frustration boiling over. “She doesn’t think it’s him.”
Ryker raises an eyebrow. “And you?”
“I’m more convinced than she is. He’s been watching her. I think he’s obsessed with her.”
Ryker sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Let Kincaid do his job. We’ll see if anything concrete comes out of this interview.”
I don’t respond as I watch Kincaid lean forward, hisexpression turning more serious. Through the glass, I can hear the muted sound of his voice.
“Ben, we found a series of photos on your phone. Can you explain why you were taking them?”
Ben fidgets in his chair, his hands clasped tightly together. “I—I told you. It’s for my internship requirement.I’m just documenting proof so I can get credit.”
Kincaid tilts his head slightly, his tone even and calm. “Why didn’t you ask her permission? It’s standard practice, isn’t it? Getting the subject’s consent before taking photos?”
Ben swallows hard, his gaze darting to the door. “I didn’t think she’d mind. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I’ve been openly taking photos my entire internship. I don’t get what the big deal is.”
“Except you weren’t just taking work-related photos,” Kincaid says, sliding a printed image across the table. It’s one of the shots from Ben’s phone—a candid photo of Ellie taken from behind, clearly focused on her rather than the event. “This doesn’t look like her work. This looks like you’re following her.”
Ben’s face goes pale, his hands trembling. “I—I wasn’t following her.”
“Then explain this,” he presses. “Why are there so many pictures of your boss? Why just her?”
Ben looks down, his voice barely audible. “I likeher. She’s…pretty.”
Kincaid doesn’t let up. “Pretty enough to follow her after work? To vandalize her property? To send her threatening messages?”
Ben’s head snaps up, his eyes wide. “No! I’d never do that! I swear, I didn’t send her anything.”
My breathing gets heavier as I watch the kid squirm. “He’s lying,” I mutter, more to myself than to Ryker and Vorheis.
Ryker shoots me a warning look. “We don’t know that yet.”
Inside the room, Kincaid continues. “Where were you Friday evening, Ben? Around 6 p.m.?”
Ben hesitates, his gaze darting around the room. “I—I was at home. Studying.”
