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“Yes,” she replied, not sure where he was going with that statement.
“What else are they going to do if they’re so crazy about their time on the slopes?”
She grinned widely. “Post their pics on social media. One of the kids in Jenna’s entourage that predates April is a skier. Have at it, partner.”
She peeled off, throwing small pebbles in the air, heading toward the precinct. If the phone records she’d requested weren’t there yet, she was going to take the matter into her own hands and get those records pronto.
“Got him,” Elliot announced as she was taking the right turn onto the highway. “Richard William Gaskell is the name. He fits the description to a T. Six-feet-two, dark hair, needs a haircut badly. He’s a senior year student. There’s a bunch of photos from last winter when he went skiing, including a selfie he took with Jimmy Bugarin.”
Kay beamed. “Let’s go grab him.”
“Not so fast, partner. His parents are hotshot criminal attorneys from San Francisco.”
“Don’t tell me he’s Edward Gaskell’s kid. The man is the fiercest defender of organized crime scum on this side of the contiguous states.” Her fist found the edge of the wheel slamming hard. “Damn it to bloody hell. We’re not catching a break on this one, are we?”
“We need real probable cause and a watertight warrant. ‘He likes to ski’ isn’t going to cut it with attorneys for parents. Probably we can get Bugarin and our friend Dwayne to pick him out of a photo array, and that would be good enough for a solid warrant.” Elliot looked at the screen, still scrolling through social media posts. “He’s got pictures with several other boys who fit the description.”
Kay shook her head. One wrong move, and Edward Gaskell could ask one of the pieces of organized scum he’d kept out of jail for a small favor. Regardless, she wasn’t going to let his precious son off the hook. “Let the witnesses help with the second unsub. If they can’t, just make a short list and we’ll nab him during questioning.” She ground her teeth, furious at her own powerlessness. “It will take time Kendra doesn’t have.”
“He’s going to Harvard, so I’m going to assume he’s smart, but I got a big hole in the fence. Why would a smart attorney’s kid leave fingerprints and semen at the scene? Does it make any sense?”
Kay let her mind wander as she drove, and almost missed the exit for the precinct. Only one scenario could justify the blatant disorganization of an apparently intelligent and educated unsub.
“Yes, it makes sense, if he thought this was going to be a rape while the vic was on Rohypnol. She wouldn’t remember a thing the next morning, and her tarnished reputation would invalidate any claim she would make about the assault. He must’ve been aroused at the thought of seeing his victim in school every day, defenseless, fearful, forever defeated and shamed. It’s the ultimate power trip.” She slowed her speed and turned onto the precinct’s street. “Something must’ve happened. Not only Tuesday, on the ridge, but in April.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m saying, why did all these kids start bullying Jenna all of a sudden? We still don’t know.”
FORTY
GONE
“Well, if it isn’t my trusted Detective Sharp,” Sheriff Logan greeted her the moment she stepped inside the precinct. He must’ve had someone notify him the moment she came in.
His words were a bitter déjà vu of Friday morning. Unlike the day before, now he was fuming. He’d crossed his arms at his chest, blocking the way with his massive build and glared at Kay. When he spoke her name, his voice was loaded with undertones of frustration and disappointment. She froze in place so abruptly Elliot nearly bumped into her.
“Good morning, Sheriff,” she said, calmly holding his gaze. “We have some news.”
“Ah, we’ll get to that,” he replied, turning around and walking briskly to his office. They followed.
As soon as he took his chair behind the old, scratched desk littered with case files and reports, he looked at her again. “You stood right there, yesterday morning, and somehow omitted telling me the unsub, as you like to call them, has your father’s name.”
“Sheriff, I—”
He held his hand up in the air, silencing her. “Spare me. You must think I’m the biggest idiot who ever wore a badge, if you didn’t so much as bother to tell me before I heard it on the news last night.”
She deserved the roasting; she’d lied to people who didn’t deserved to be lied to, and she had to own that. She took a deep breath slowly, reminding herself the only blame was hers. “Sir, as soon as I pulled up the perp’s profile from the DMV, it became apparent he’s not my father, as I had feared for about ten seconds. Then I proceeded the way I would’ve with any other unsub; his name didn’t matter to me. I now realize I was wrong, and I apologize; you should’ve been informed.”
His glare softened. She clenched her jaw but managed to let the uncomfortable silence fill the room. After a moment that seemed to drag on forever, the sheriff clasped his hands on the pile of reports placed in front of him and let out a frustrated sigh.
“At least you spoke with that reporter and got her off our backs.” He sighed and leaned against the back rest of his worn-out leather chair. “You said you had news?”
“We have the first unsub identified; we need to ask two witnesses to pick him out of a photo array before we say one word about it to anyone.” She lowered her voice as she said the last part of the phrase.
“Who the hell is he? No one gets special treatment here.”
“Edward Gaskell’s son, Richard.”
