I grabbed on to the rope barrier once again and jogged down the length of the hall. The west side was significantly less crowded, which was unfortunate for those dealers and sponsors, but it was still relatively early in the day. The attendees would eventually branch off and realize there was untouched real estate on this end.
“Calvin?” I said into the phone as I rushed into the men’s room, a bit out of breath.
“Where are you?” he asked, sounding as if he was on speaker phone.
“I’m at the Javits Center. I have a name for the second teenager,” I said quickly, pushing open each stall door to assure I was alone. I reached the last one, took a deep breath, and said, “JD Malory. He was Casey’s classmate. He’s here working at the fair.”
“Are you alone?” Calvin demanded.
“I came with Neil. He went after JD.”
“Where are you?”
“In the bathroom so I can hear you. It’s a madhouse here.”
“I’m on my way there.”
“Calvin, what’s wrong?”
“James Robert had his throat cut, just like his grandson. CSU found a knife under a chair in the parlor with a bloody fingerprint on the handle,” he explained.
My heart skipped a beat and then slugged hard against my chest.
“I got Casey Robert’s transcript from the academy,” Calvin continued.
“Lee?” I whispered, but…I knew.
“Lee took over his class last week when the original teacher was fired for misconduct and unapproved absences.”
I swallowed, and it sounded thunderous in my ears.
“It’s Pete White,” Calvin said. “His fingerprints are on record from when he was hired at the school. I had forensics do a preliminary comparison to what was on the weapon—you need to find Millett. Don’t leave his side until I get there.”
I felt like the blood had left my body. I shivered convulsively.
Pete White?
Creepy, awkward, flip-flop-wearing Pete White, who I’d concluded early on was simply too dumb or lazy to manage anything even close to robbery—let alone a double homicide—was behind it all?
Neil was right.
I hadwantedit to be Lee. And the clues had worked in his favor, which made it even easier to accept.
But there was no denying how bizarre it had been on Tuesday when Pete wouldn’t stop pestering me about the Kinetoscope footage. He must have been trying to obtain it without having to resort to dangerous measures….
“Baby,” Calvin said in his cop voice.
“Wh-what? Yes, find Neil.”
“Quinn and I are almost there,” he answered. “Are you downstairs?”
“Yes.”
“Two minutes. Maybe less.”
“I know what he was after,” I said as the bathroom door opened and the racket of the fair followed someone inside. “Original documents. Inventions by Dickson. They’d be worth millions—”
Pete White came around the corner. He smiled that huge, stupid smile, waved, and went to the sink. He held his hand under the soap dispenser and started lathering them together under a strong stream of water. He had those damn flip-flops on, cargo shorts, and a zipped-up hoodie.
