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“I’m afraid I can’t be completely forthcoming,” she said apologetically. “But I’ll let Detective Hernandez share what he’s able to.”
“Thanks, Ms. Hunt,” Ryan said, smoothly taking the baton. “We just happened to be in the area wrapping up an interview when we got the alert about this case. It sounded like it might be part of a pattern we’re investigating and we thought we’d check it out firsthand.”
“You think this is related to a case you’re working?” Costabile asked disbelievingly.
“It’s possible,” Ryan said. “We’d have to look at the body to draw any firm conclusions. Of course, we don’t want to step on the toes of the detectives already assigned. Who might that be?”
Costabile stared at Ryan, taking note of his challenging tone. It was clear that Ryan knew there were no detectives on the scene yet. Costabile appeared to be debating whether to answer the spoken question seriously or address the one below the surface about what exactly was going on here.
“Detective Strode should be here momentarily,” he finally said in a disturbingly polite tone. “But we were prepping the body to be viewed down at the coroner’s. Everything looks pretty open and shut. We didn’t want to waste department resources unnecessarily.”
“Sure, sure. I get it,” Ryan replied, using the same official but not genuine politeness as Costabile. “All the same, maybe we take a look here so as to not compromise the scene. We are talking about a teenage girl stabbed in her own bed…how many times?”
Costabile’s face turned red and it looked like it was taking an enormous effort for him to keep his composure.
“Nine…that we’re aware of.”
“Nine times?” Ryan repeated. “That seems like a lot. Doesn’t that seem like a lot to you, Ms. Hunt?”
“It seems like a lot,” Jessie agreed.
“Yeah, a lot,” Ryan added for emphasis. “So maybe we dot the ‘i’s’ and cross the ‘t’s’ on this one before tossing the girl into a plastic bag and driving her over a bunch of pothole-strewn Valley streets? You know, just to be thorough.”
He smiled sweetly as if he’d merely been discussing the weather. Costabile did not smile back.
“Are you taking over this investigation, Detective?” the sergeant asked flatly, not commenting on the pothole dig.
“Not at this point, Sergeant. Like I said, we just want to see if the killing fits our pattern. You’re not denying us access to the body, are you?”
That question led to another uncomfortable silence. Jessie watched another officer named Webb wander over from inside the apartment and take up a position right behind Costabile. His right hand was resting uncomfortably close to his gun holster. She glanced back and saw that Officer Lester had now stepped inside the police tape and was standing behind them, assuming the same posture with his hand in the same position.
Costabile looked down at his shoes and kept his gaze there for several seconds. Ryan stared at the top of the man’s head, his eyes unblinking. Jessie was afraid to breathe. Finally, Costabile looked up. A vein on his forehead bulged. His eyes were angry slits. Slowly, he opened them and his body seemed to relax slightly.
“Come on in,” he said, waving his hand in an exaggerated welcome.
Ryan stepped forward and Jessie followed. As she moved into the apartment, she reminded herself it was okay to breathe again.
