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“Now, about last night. The NYPD will review the CCTV feeds, send a forensics team to West Third. The sedan struck some garbage cans, and there could be traces of paint or maybe a piece of broken headlight. They’ll spot the car, but it’s not likely they’ll see the driver well enough to make an ID.”
“Maybe the license plate?”
“We’ll hope.”
“Sherlock, do you honestly think Alex Harrington, now a candidate for mayor of New York City, would be crazy enough to try to run me down himself? Even Kent Harper, he’s the head of his family’s company here... it’s crazy.”
Sherlock said matter-of-factly, “No, I can’t see either of those two being directly involved. Since the attack happened so quickly after you got back to New York, they probably already had someone on their payroll or available to them. I doubt checking their phone records would help turn up anything valuable. I can’t imagine either of these gentlemen would be stupid enough to leave a record on their cell phones, or at campaign headquarters. But the records might tell us who tipped them off, from Boston or from Bennington Prep. Of course, it’s academic, no way to get a search warrant.
“Mia, if you’re right about this, about what those men have done, about their being responsible for what happened last night, you’re very lucky to be alive.”
Mia said, “I know, believe me, I’ve had a few bad moments thinking about that. I said I couldn’t see either of them involved directly. I take that back. Not Kent Harper, but Alex Harrington would. He’s got guts and he would view me as an obstacle like any other, to be overcome, or obliterated as the case may be.”
Sherlock studied the myriad emotions racing over Mia’s face—frustration, sadness, maybe a dollop of hope? She said, “I wasn’t in the FBI yet when your friend Serena Winters disappeared from the frat rave, but I heard about it later from my husband. He told me Tommy was wrecked over it, that it influenced his decision to join the FBI, like his dad. Tommy went on the warpath, determined to find out who killed her, but when there were absolutely no leads, and as time passed, as it always does, her case went cold, and even Tommy realized there was nothing more he could do. But no one who loved her forgot about her, least of all Tommy.
“Now, you think you’ve found the men who roofied her, killed her.” Sherlock sat back. “You’ve given Tommy hope again he’ll find out what happened to her, hope he thought was dead. He told me about everything, going back to the rave when Serena met that guy who was a gamer, about the two photos, the bracelet, the notch on Alex Harrington’s earlobe. And Kent Harper being a gamer too. Tommy’s retention is amazing so I’m confident I have all those facts.
“What I want you to tell me are your firsthand impressions of the people you spoke with in Boston, and at Bennington Prep.”
Mia said, “It’s hard to believe I met these people only yesterday, not twenty-four hours ago. Okay, first I went to Louisburg Square and met Pamela Raines Barrett, Alex Harrington’s fiancée. She’s pretty, polished to a high shine, shows off Armani very well. She knows her own worth and values herself highly. She’s arrogant and tried to hide it for the most part since I was there to interview her about her fiancé. She tried to make nice, but her belief in her own superiority shimmered off her.
“She’s smart, Sherlock, and I think she’d be as ruthless as she needed to be to get what she wants. And she wants Alex to be mayor as much as he does, maybe more. It’s her first big step toward the top of the power food chain, where she knows she belongs. So she really wasn’t of much help. But one thing struck me between the eyes. She’s still jealous of Harrington’s ex-fiancée, Juliet Ash Calley. She told me calling off the wedding was Alex’s idea, but it wasn’t. It was Juliet who called it off.
“I’m sure she doesn’t know about Juliet being roofied and raped by Alex Harrington and Kent Harper, or anything else. Yes, I imagine Tommy mentioned that to you. Even though it sounds unbelievable, it’s true. He not only roofied and raped his own fiancée, he also invited his friend Kent Harper to join the fun. And I wondered—if Pamela knew, would she be willing to cover it up to get what she wanted? I don’t think so, but I could be wrong.”
Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at her. “Let me guess. You really didn’t like her.”
