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“The not having kids thing,” said Gretchen, hanging up. “It’s definitely that.”
“Why?” asked Noah. “Because she’s a woman? Not all women want children.”
“No,” said Gretchen. “Not because she’s a woman. Because a regret implies something that can’t be undone. Like what Beau Collins said about not being present during his mother’s cancer treatments. You can’t get that back. That’s what makes it a regret. But if you had wanted children and then you find yourself in a marriage where your husband either can’t have or definitely doesn’t want children, then yeah, you might have regrets.”
“That makes sense,” Noah said. “Although technically he did get the first question right. According to Liam Flint. So why did this guy murder Trudy Dawson?”
Josie looked up from her computer screen and said, “This killer is playing by rules we don’t even know about.”
The Chief said, “Or he’s just a cold, batshit-crazy psychopath. I don’t care why he’s doing any of this, I just want him caught. Caught! Do you hear me?”
Gretchen said, “Chief, we’re working our asses off, and trying, to some degree, to figure out why this guy is doing things the way he does could generate leads.”
Chitwood pointed at her. “Well, come up with some fast, Palmer. I don’t want this jerk killing people in my city anymore.”
With that, he stomped off to his office and slammed the door closed.
“So much for a new, more user-friendly Chitwood,” muttered Mettner.
Noah said, “Thatisthe new, more user-friendly Chitwood.”
Gretchen laughed.
Josie turned back to her computer and moved on to the next set of geo-fence results, from the night that Claudia was murdered.
Mettner said, “Does anyone think these questions are weird? Why is this guy making Beau Collins go on television and talk about his wife’s innermost secrets? What is he trying to accomplish?”
Noah said, “Maybe he’s trying to expose Beau for how little he really paid attention to Claudia. Make him look like a fraud.”
“If that’s the case,” said Mettner. “We need to take a much closer look at Liam Flint. From what you told us about your interview with him this morning, he not only had it bad for Claudia, but he hates Beau.”
“The problem with that is that he was with us today when that text came in,” said Noah.
Josie glanced up at Mettner long enough to read the disappointment and frustration in his face.
Gretchen said, “Like Fraley said, Flint could have help.”
Mettner walked over and stood next to Josie’s chair. “Boss, you see Flint’s number on those geo-fences?”
Josie said, “I don’t see Flint’s number on here.” But there were two numbers that caught her eye. Familiar numbers. She picked up her cell phone and scrolled through her contacts. People never dialed numbers anymore. Instead, everyone you knew was listed in your phone under their name or photograph and all you had to do was press or swipe call.
“Just a second,” she told Mettner. “I need to check something.”
She confirmed that the first number she recognized belonged to Misty DeRossi, which made sense. The night of Claudia’s murder, Misty had taken Harris to one of his basketball games at the new rec center next to the city park. Josie and Noah would have been there with her if they hadn’t had to work.
She moved on to the second number, looking it up first in her phone and then double-checking it in a database. “Son of a bitch,” she muttered.
“What is it?” asked Mettner, leaning in closer and peering at the computer screen.
Josie used her phone to find Misty’s Facebook page and scrolled until she found the photos from Harris’s game. Misty had not posted any; she never shared photos of Harris online, but she had been tagged by the basketball coach, along with about a dozen other parents, in a number of photos of the children playing. Josie clicked through them. None of them captured Harris, but she wasn’t looking at the kids.
Mettner’s voice was suddenly very close to her ear. “Boss, I don’t think it will go over very well if new, user-friendly Chief sees you scrolling on Facebook when we’ve got a major case going on.”
Josie found what she was looking for and zoomed in on the corner of the photo. Excitedly, she thrust the screen at Mettner’s face. “This is a basketball game that took place the afternoon of Claudia’s murder at the rec center by the park. This is a crowd of onlookers.”
She pointed to a man. He was hanging back, arms crossed, and his head was down.
Chairs creaked as Noah and Gretchen stood and walked around to stand with Mettner behind her chair. “That can’t be right,” said Noah.
