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Ackerman touched Gaskell’s arm, just as he spoke. “Yes, we were up there, and yes, we had sex. Consensual sex, to be clear. Your witness can confirm we had sandwiches together before that, and she was there willingly, having a good time.”
“Was it at Alpine Subs where you drugged Jenna with Rohypnol?”
The two men brought their heads together for a brief moment, whispering something Kay couldn’t decipher. “I wasn’t aware that Jenna had been drugged with Rohypnol or any other drug,” Richard replied.
“What happened after you had sex with Jenna?”
“I left. She was very much alive and wanted to stay some more up on the mountain. I can’t be held accountable for what other people did after I left.”
“Actually, you can. Forensics has determined beyond any reasonable doubt that the so-called consensual sex was, in fact, rape. The law stipulates that consent cannot be obtained or implied when the victim had been drugged with a date-rape drug. Furthermore, the sex was violent, causing bruising and lacerations, as documented by the medical examiner in his report.”
Gaskell snickered and shrugged. “Some girls like it rough.”
Kay clenched her jaw for a brief moment. “As such, her death is considered to have happened during the commission of a crime, inculpating you, her rapist, for her murder. Ask your lawyer.”
There was worry in Gaskell’s eyes as he leaned toward Ackerman and the whispering resumed.
“Detective, you know very well all this sexual assault business is circumstantial at best and won’t hold in court. This particular victim’s compromised reputation will make that job really easy for me. No jury will believe the rape allegation on which you’re basing your murder charge.”
Kay felt dizzy for a brief moment, seeing her entire case fall to shreds right before her eyes. She needed solid evidence, like traces of Rohypnol on Gaskell’s clothing. The search warrant had been filed for the Gaskell residence and Richard’s vehicle. Until then, she had Kendra.
“Your client also kidnapped, raped, and tortured another one of his schoolmates.”
“I resent the implication,” the attorney said.
“What implication?”
“When you said, another. You’re implying he kidnapped, raped, and tortured Jenna Jerrell. My client did no such thing.”
“Well, your client will be charged with it, nevertheless. We’ll let the jury decide. I’ve been told that if the victim was given Rohypnol, and she went with the two boys on the mountain while being drugged, that could be construed as kidnapping. You know, the issue of consent and all that.”
“You can’t prove my client was in possession of Rohypnol or slipped the victim the drug.”
Gaskell touched his lawyer’s arm. Some more whispering, while the lawyer’s jowls moved quickly, partly hidden behind the hand he’d raised to cover his mouth. When he straightened his back, he seemed a little less confident.
“Then, there’s the issue of assaulting a police officer in her own home,” Kay said softly, a flicker of a smile touching her eyes.
“There was no such assault,” the lawyer replied coldly. “My client was invited into the home, when he reached out to the lead detective in the case to discuss his surrender. The weapon he carried is registered to his name and wasn’t used in said assault. There’s no evidence of forced entry.”
Stunned for a moment, Kay gasped. It was preposterous. The nerve of that man, of Richard Gaskell himself. He stood there, staring straight at her, playing with his keychain. After the interview was over, he’d walk out of there and he’d have the time to destroy whatever evidence still remained of the night on Wildfire Ridge. Within hours, he’d be arraigned, and bail already posted, while her search warrant could still take a while.
The attorney smiled and closed his briefcase. “If there isn’t anything else, we’re leaving.”
She laughed, staring Gaskell straight in the eye. He flinched. “No, you’re not,” Kay replied. “I’m not putting your client up for arraignment yet; we have the right to hold him for forty-eight hours before arraigning him, and we’re doing just that. He’s staying put.”
“Detective,” the lawyer shouted, springing to his feet, out of breath and turning a dark shade of purple foreboding of future cardiovascular problems.
“You decided to play this like we’re in the twilight zone. Well, now we are. Enjoy your stay.”
A knock from behind the two-way mirror got her attention. She stood and took her case files with her, then tuned halfway toward Ackerman. “A rape charge can be pleaded down to a year or two, Counselor, but a murder charge can’t. Your client is looking at hard time in a maximum-security prison. I suggest you tell him it’s in his best interest to collaborate before Renaldo Cristobal does.” She grinned. “Something to think of over the next forty-eight hours. That boy might be the smartest of the two after all.”
There was no response, just the same arrogant demeanor on Gaskell, although his façade was starting to crack at the seams.
She left the interview room and closed the door behind her gently, although she would’ve wanted to slam that door hard enough to rattle the walls and with them, Gaskell’s arrogance.
The moment she walked into the observation room, her gaze locked with Logan’s. He wasn’t pleased.
“I told you, Detective, kid gloves with this perp.”
