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“She’s fine, the usual with overtime cases.” I cleared my throat. “Find anything new for me today?” I opened the folder and took out a notebook.
Detective Hatcher opened his own. “Today I interviewed Kiera without the other possible witnesses.”Bexley and Mari.
“Anything different?”
“Not really. More crying and screaming if you could believe it. She’s adamant that it was this ghoul kid.” He shook his head like he wasn’t completely convinced of that.
“What’s not making sense for you?”
“It’s not so much that there’s no logic; I’m just questioning her credibility as a witness.” He stroked his white mustache, considering his words. “I don’t doubt she saw our victim and perp, but Bishop, she was pretty drunk considering her recount of that night. I don’t care for figuring out who can legally drink here, but if her inebriation caused any detail to be wrong, then we don’t have a strong foundation anywhere.”
“I’ve had that concern. You know, after we spoke to the girls, I noticed something interesting between Bexley and another student.”
Stan leaned in closer to my desk with a raised brow.
“How does Kiera describe the guy she saw with Bexley?” I asked him. He flipped his notepad a few pages, read an entry, and then flipped it back.
“Excessively tall,” he responded.
“The guy she describes with Trisha?” He glanced back and forth between the written notes. When he looked back up, I raised my eyebrows.
“You think so too, then?” he asked, and I nodded.
“Kiera described the man Bexley Laughtery was with as ‘really tall, I guess.’ She’s not wrong, just conflicted.” He looked at the other lines scribbled out. “Because the guy with Trisha was average,” I explained.
“She’s not wrong?” he clarified.
“Not in the slightest, Stan. After the interview at school, Bexley was leaving with her friend, Mari, and they happened to run into someone.” His eyebrows knitted in confusion. “Probably the biggest guy on that campus. Maybe a few guys on a sports team could be close to his stature, but the way he pulled her in and kept her close? That’s our first masked guy.”
“You get his name?” Stan was ready to start writing again.
“Nope,” I said, popping the “P.” Disappointment flitted across his face briefly. “He left before I could bring him into the conference room, and the secretary wasn’t that willing to offer random student information without a warrant. The way he looked at me, it wasn’t the challenge of a killer. I’m not going to give up this angle; I’m going to see if I can find him between lectures.”
“If the guy Kiera described as average is our perp–”
“Then he could be anyone on campus, or in town,” I finished for him. Stan sighed, flipped his notebook pages, and continued onto the next interview as I compared and took more notes.
“Thanks for the follow up, Hatch. We’re gonna arrange some more interviews this week. Hopefully get some fresh names. Go home, get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow; we can get a refreshed look at things.” He gave me a two-finger wave and left the office.
I looked at my phone, 1:30 a.m.Fucking hell. There weren’t any messages from Diane, but I knew she’d have enough to say later. It wasn’t always easy, but she handled everything I threw at her. I didn’t get off lightly though. I got my fair share of reminders about family and balance. Going home now would just diminish that time with her since I’d be back in by six.
I grabbed a water bottle, a couple of Tylenol, and walked over to my pull-out couch. I took out my phone and sent a quick text.
Me: I’m sleeping in the office again. I’ll make it up with more than an at-home lunch date. Love you
I threw the phone on the charger, swallowed down the pills, and settled under the thin blanket. It was never as restful as home, but it would do for one night.
My phone rang, and I was hopeful it was my wife that had been woken up by my message.
Incoming: *Ofc. Billingsley*
Shit.
“Bishop,” I answered.
“Sir, Old Oaks has a problem.”
Chapter 8
