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Ryder's blood boiled that someone had been spying on her. He held up a vaguely familiar photo of a jogging Khloe on the boardwalk at thebeach.
"When did you take this photo?" he pressed Peter foranswers.
The kid looked confused. "I didn't takeit."
"Then who did?" Rydersnapped.
"I don't know. I do know Khloe wanted me to have it. It came with the plane ticket to New YorkCity."
Ryder forced his voice to stay calm. "What else came with thatdelivery?"
When Peter sat silently, he added a stern, "Showme."
Peter fumbled with the materials in front of him. Ryder hated that any fingerprints other than the kid's might be getting ruined, but since he suspected Peter had handled them dozens of times already, it probably didn'tmatter.
He pulled out several more photos from the packet. The card with the word ECLAIR on it. A photo of Khloe's Chelsea apartment, the address clearly displayed. A snapshot outside of the Lincoln Square Theater where Peter had shownup.
Ryder held up the photo of her apartment. "Did you go here? Is this how you knew where shelived?"
"What? No. I didn't go to her apartment. I went to the theater." He seemed genuinelyflustered.
Ryder looked down at the spread out pile of materials on the table and the glint of metal caught his eye. Infuriated, he reached out and picked up a keyring with two keys onit.
"Is that why you have the keys to Khloe's apartment righthere?"
Peter shrunk back, throwing his hands up as if to shield himself from Ryder's forceful interrogation. The kid melted into a pool of nervous tears. "The keys came in the same package, but I didn't know what they werefor!"
As he reviewed the materials, Ryder remembered where he'd seen the photobefore.
He pounded his fist on the table, making Peter jump. "You expect me to believe that? You just happened to have keys to the very apartment that was broken into while she was away? The very apartment where a copy of this same photo was found hanging on the mirror in herhouse?"
He shoved the picture into Peter's face, forcing him to look at it. It was one of those in the shrine that had been set up in Khloe's bathroom––the break-in that had scared the woman he loved half todeath.
Peter had dissolved into a full-blown panic attack, rocking nervously as he covered his ears with his hands as if he could block out Ryder'squestions.
That was the minute he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Peter Martinez was not the stalker. He wasn't mentally capable of planning and pulling off the break-ins and threats. The coffee-runner was a patsy at best, setup to deflect any suspicion from the real stalker. A victim. Maybe not in the same way Khloe had been, but a victimnonetheless.
The head of security chose that time to make his entrance, raising his eyebrow as if to question what was going on. Ryder stood and gave himinstructions.
"Call the policein..."
At the sound of Ryder's instruction, Peter howled, afraid he was in more trouble. Ryder sat back down to speak to Peteragain.
"Hey, that's enough. How would you like to helpKhloe?"
Peter's crying reduced, proving he was listening so Ryder continuedon.
"You want to help her, don'tyou?"
"Yes." His reply waspitiful.
"Okay then. We're going to have the police come in and look through the packet of information that you say Khloe sent to you. We need to check for fingerprints and clues because, Peter, Khloe didn't send this. Someone who is trying to hurt her sentit."
"But why would anyone want to hurt Khloe?" He was so fuckingnaive.
"I don't know the answer to that, but I sure as hell am going to keep digging until I find out. And that's where you can help. There are clues in this that we need toevaluate."
"You won't take any of it away, willyou?"
