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“But you might know someone from the old days who knows more,” countered Gibson.
He let out a long sigh and she waited, patiently. Experience had taught Gibson that her father almost always reached the right conclusion when it came to him, meaning the conclusion she wanted. She just had to give him time, space, and the understanding that it was ultimately his decision and not hers.
“I actually might know a guy. He was a detective in Newark, but he worked on the case because it crossed all sorts of jurisdictional lines. He and I talked shop about it over the years.”
“Is he retired?”
“Oh, yeah, he was older than me. Let me make some calls and I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks, Dad, I really appreciate this.”
“Yeah, yeah. I shouldn’t be doing this, you know.”
“You’re just trying to help out your little girl.”
“Right, my little girl who has Daddy wrapped right around her little finger.”
“You need to stop listening to Mom.”
“Youtry that. And I wish you luck. You’ll need it.”
He clicked off and she headed to her office.
The kids were with Silva. With the situation the way it was, she had arranged with the woman to come over every day for the next week, and luckily Silva’s schedule allowed for that.
As soon as she got to her office her phone buzzed. It was Wilson Sullivan.
“You busy?” he asked.
“I’m never too busy to help you, Detective Sullivan,” she replied brightly.
“You know, you’re very good at that.”
“At what?” she said innocently.
“Exactly. Anyway, we have some developments. Can you meet me at Stormfield? Or do you have kid stuff to do?”
“I have a babysitter today. I can be there in about an hour and a half. What developments?”
“I’ll fill you in when you get here.”
Gibson thought,Did I just get my official cover?
She quickly changed into jeans, a white blouse, and a dark jacket, checked in with Silva, hugged her kids, and drove off in the van. When she arrived at Stormfield, Sullivan was standing out front. Nearby, a trooper was sitting in a marked car.
She walked up to Sullivan, and he said, “Let’s go inside.”
As they entered the home, she suddenly had a weird feeling that this might be a setup.
Did someone see me dusting the mailbox for prints and rat me out? Am I about to be arrested for obstruction of justice, tampering with evidence, or for just being stupid?
He led her to where the body had been discovered.
“What I’m about to tell you goes no further, okay?” he said.
She made a show of locking her lips and throwing away the key.
He pointed to the chair where Pottinger had been found. The fan had been taken away and everything was coated in fingerprint powder.
