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“Sheriff, I don’t believe we have much of a choice here. He’s a lying sack of—”
He scoffed. “Of course, he is. How different would our jobs be if perps only told the truth?” A quick bout of sarcastic laughter followed his comment.
“Boss, if we can’t get Renaldo to cop to the rape, and we can’t find any evidence of Rohypnol on Gaskell’s clothes, we can’t charge him with anything on Jenna Jerrell. That girl won’t get the justice she deserves.”
“Twenty-four hours,” Logan said, checking his watch, “starting now. Not a minute more. And stop using the media as you see fit, without running it by me first. Is it true you promised Barb Foster you’d notify her when you found Kendra?”
She bit her lip. “I completely forgot, but yes, I did promise her that. I’ll fix it.”
“I think you fixed enough for one day, Sharp. An entire team can’t mop the shards you leave in your wake. Get me the evidence we’re missing and close this murder case already. People are starting to wonder what the heck we’re doing here. I’ve been getting calls from the district attorney every day, and he’s not asking about my health.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, standing to the side so that Logan could leave the small observation room without brushing against her. The air smelled of stale cigars in his wake.
Of stale cigars and defeat.
She wished she could wipe the arrogant little smirk off Gaskell’s lips, but knew she couldn’t. Not with so many questions unanswered, most of which pointed to a woman being involved in this mess somehow. A woman with long blonde hair, pink nail polish, and a size eight athletic shoe.
Leaving the observation room with a spring in her step, she bumped into Elliot. “Sorry,” she mumbled, hiding the fire that lit her cheeks. “We’re done here… let these two stew for a while.”
“How did it go?” A flicker of the same secret amusement lit Elliot’s eyes, but his face remained serious.
“Ugh,” she groaned, “it drives me crazy he’s going to skate the rape charge for Jenna, and with it, the murder charge too. We’re still not sure what happened up there on Wildfire, and who the woman was—”
“What woman?”
“The one who left the hair strands and the pink nail polish on Jenna’s body. The footprints that came after Jenna’s Converse.”
“This might help,” he said, handing her the report he was holding.
She read it quickly in the dim light. It was issued by the Northern California Computer Crimes Task Force (NC3TF). They had traced the money behind the website that had ruined Jenna’s life. Tracing a series of maneuvers worthy of a mobster involving PayPal and prepaid credit cards, they had identified the email address behind the originating source of funds, and that email was registered to Alana Keaney.
FIFTY-ONE
JEALOUSY
Alana Keaney, Jenna’s friend, the one in whose arms poor Jenna had found solace.
Seated in Elliot’s SUV as it sped toward the Keaney residence, Kay was fuming. The crime in itself, the cyberbullying, was bad enough as it was. But still pretending she was Jenna’s friend and taking in her pain, her tears, that was pathological. Sadism, pure and simple. That girl got off on Jenna’s suffering and came back for more of it, over and over, not getting enough.
NC3TF had confirmed that the nude images used for Jenna’s site were stock photos, but Kay didn’t care. She was still going to throw the book at that sadistic little bitch.
And still she believed there was more about Jenna’s death than she’d been able to uncover. That’s why she’d refused Logan’s offer to take backup and arrest Alana. Instead, she wanted to go at it a different way.
“What if there’s more to this?” Kay asked, shooting Elliot a quick look. He was focused on the road ahead, weaving through traffic quickly with the flashers on. “And why did she do it? They both had boyfriends, right? So, that means jealousy is out as motive…” Kay bit the tip of her finger, thinking. The pieces of the puzzle weren’t lining up as neatly as she would’ve liked.
“Maybe,” Elliot replied. “Sometimes people become jealous over things that don’t matter or don’t really exist. Over assumptions, let’s say.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, things are rarely what they seem. People imagine things and start believing them. Then motive builds off of that.”
“Okay, that speaks to motive, perhaps. But I’m afraid there’s more.”
Elliot shot her a quick glance. “Like what?”
“Like rape by proxy,” Kay sighed and grabbed the door handle as Elliot took a turn fast onto Alana’s street. “I’m thinking what if Alana instigated Gaskell to rape Jenna? You’ve seen him… all you have to do is point him in the right direction and pull the trigger. He’d go, especially if he believed all that gossip about Jenna.”
Surprised, Elliot looked at her again as he pulled by the curb.
