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“We’re trying to establish his motive.”
“Then I’ll help you any way I can,” Elle stated. “Because I want to know why.Whydid my son die that way?Why?” Her voice cracked. She covered her face with her hands and began to cry into them.
In an instant Glenda was beside her with a box of tissues. “Do you want some water? Anything?”
Elle pulled a tissue from the box and blotted her eyes. “Nothing, thanks.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Portman. You’ve suffered a terrible loss. Words are inadequate.”
She met Compton’s gaze and nodded a thank-you. “You are exactly right. Words are inadequate, so don’t waste them. What I want, need—demand—is an explanation beyond the banal. Since you’re investigating, I charge you with finding out why he did it.”
Chapter 5
Compton remained calm, no doubt having heard similar mandates from victims of violent crime. “We have personnel working day and night, in conjunction with state authorities, to provide you with answers as to why this individual did what he did. We can’t bring your son back, but, I assure you, Ms. Portman, that we wish to give you whatever closure we’re able.”
She reached into the pocket of her blazer. “The suspect.” She passed Elle a photograph.
It was a mug shot. The young man staring back at her embodied hostility and insolence. He was smirking with contempt. “His name?”
“It’s being withheld because he was only sixteen, and we’ve yet to locate a parent or guardian. He’d been in trouble since puberty and had a police record.” She gave Elle a rundown of the teen’s criminal history.
Glenda muttered a profanity under her breath and said, “And this miscreant was walking among us?”
“He didn’t have any outstanding warrants,” Perkins said. “His fingerprints were linked only to his previous arrests.”
“That’s a huge comfort,” Glenda said, glaring at him. “I feel much better now.”
The detective remained unmoved by her sarcasm.
Compton continued. “He skipped out on his probation officer in Houston over a year ago and definitely worked the system.”
“Dysfunctional system,” Glenda said.
“He was crafty enough to get himself employed at the fairground. But they didn’t check the information on his application form very well, if at all. His name was authentic, but the New Mexico driver’s license he used for his ID was fake. He filled in a Dallas zip code, but the street address doesn’t exist, which makes it extremely difficult to track his recent actions, including those of yesterday afternoon.
“We’re trying to learn where he went and who he saw prior to the shooting. Had he posted rants or grievances on social media? He didn’t have activity like that on his phone, but it could have been a burner that he used only to make calls. He could have had a computer tucked away somewhere. We’re investigating all that because there may be others involved that we don’t know about.”
“You mean accomplices?” Elle asked.
“Well, in this situation, that’s a broad term. The suspect might have been commissioned, dared, or threatened by a radical group with an agenda. Under duress, he martyred himself. Or he acted entirely alone, a victim himself of ridicule, shaming, romantic rejection—”
“Sociopathy.”
Compton, who’d apparently had it with Glenda’s editorial comments, shot her a dirty look before coming back to Elle. “Or he could have been mentally ill to one degree or another. We won’t know his circumstances until we locate his next of kin or acquaintances.”
“Where are you with that?” Elle asked.
“Not far, I’m afraid. There were only a handful of contacts in his phone, and those we’ve spoken with claimed not to have seen or heard from him in months.”
“And you’re taking their word for that?”
Compton shot Glenda another dirty look. “Of course not. We’re following up, but it’s taking time, because these few individuals are scattered over several states, leading us to believe that the suspect was a transient.” She hesitated, then with reluctance said, “There’s something else that’s working against us.”
“I can hardly wait,” Glenda muttered.
“I told you he was cagey. He must have known where the fairground security cameras were located, and he avoided them, except for those near the game booth where he was working.
“Between customers, he’s seen going in and out of the tent there, probably to smoke marijuana. It was found on him. Three minutes before the first shot was fired, he’s seen looking around furtively, then slipping into the tent where his body was found. But we haven’t yet detected him in the crowd firing the weapon.”
