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“Think Walters will get life without parole when he finally goes to trial?” Ramsey asked Bill.
Bill shrugged. “I hope so. But hindsight tells me not to hold my breath.”
It told Ramsey the same thing. Which was another reason he couldn’t rest until he found the rest of the pervert’s victims. The man had to pay for each and every one of them.
And families needed answers.
Kim Pershing met Bill at his desk. “We got a hit on that homeless guy,” she said, looking from Bill to Ramsey.
“The lab lifted fingerprints from his suit, but he wasn’t in the database. The suit was custom made, though, and I tracked it down to a place in New Haven, Connecticut. From there, I was down to three men who purchased the same suit in that size in the past year. I was able to reach two of them. The third is an Ivy League human-studies instructor at Yale who took this semester off to finish writing his doctoral dissertation. Joel Randolph. Twenty-eight. Part of his thesis required that he spend a week on the streets, with no connections, no one knowing where he was.” Kim pursed her lips.
Ramsey and Bill exchanged glances. “Sounds like your guy,” Ramsey said.
“Have you contacted the family?” Bill’s question was directed at Kim, who, in expensive jeans and a fitted longsleeved T-shirt, did not look the detective part at all.
“No, sir. I didn’t want to give anything away.” Notification was up to Bill. Kim’s job, as support person, was to investigate possible identities for their dead body. “Their information is on your desk.” The woman nodded toward a manila folder in the middle of Bill’s desk, atop various papers and charts strewn across every available inch of space. Bill used to be completely rigid, too. A place for everything and everything in its place. And then he’d fallen in love with Mary. He was as committed to stopping crime as ever; he’d just relaxed a bit when it came to the little things in life.
“You really need to clean that desk up,” Ramsey said as he left his colleague and mentor to one of the most unsavory parts of their job. Delivering the final blow to loved ones.
Becoming a bad memory someone was never going to forget.
“You were out of line, hayes.”
“Way out of line.” Standing in the captain’s office with the captain and Amber, Lucy looked between her coworker and her superior. “I know,” she said. “I apologize.”
Amber, who already had her mouth open for a comeback, closed it again, as her expression deflated.
Lucy looked at Lionel Smith. “I have a feel for this guy, Captain,” she said. “I know I’m not impartial enough to run the case—Amber drew it and it’s hers.” With a nod toward the other woman, she continued. “I have every confidence that she’ll bring this one home. I just… There’s more.”
“Your sister.”
“Yes.”
“We haven’t forgotten Allison, Lucy.”
“But you’ll send him up and leave it at that if you can’t get anything more out of him.”
“We need evidence, Lucy. You know that.”
“If I get the rape charge, and give the D.A. enough to get a conviction, he’ll be at our disposal any time we need him,” Amber added, her tone mollified.
And if Lucy messed things up, Wakerby could walk.
“I didn’t talk to him about the rape.” They were three of Aurora’s four detectives, discussing their biggest case.
“That’s your word against his.”
She shook her head. “I had my phone set to record mode the entire time I was in the room with him.”
Turning back to Lionel, who stood behind his desk in his black suit and tie, Lucy said, “And if my mother doesn’t stand up to trial, and the defense manages to convince the judge that our DNA sample is tainted, he’s going to walk and I might never have another chance at him.”
Lionel’s scrutiny might have been hard to take if Lucy wasn’t one hundred percent certain of the case she was pleading. She could get this guy. And now might be her only shot at him. Certainty didn’t stop her from sweating beneath her navy jacket and cream-colored silk blouse.
She took a deep breath as Lionel’s attention switched to Amber Locken. “Lucy’s earned her reputation for interrogation results. Whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing, she seems to be able to crawl right up inside the perp and see
where to hit so it hurts the most.”
Amber nodded.
