AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Maybe I should watch more true crime with Mom.
No, that was a terrible idea. He already had enough fodder for his nightmares from his client sessions, thank you very much. The few episodes he’d watched with Ann over the weekend had added detail to his nightmares that he really could have lived without.
McKittrick tapped on his front passenger window. “Can we get in?”
Sam unlocked the doors and the two climbed in, McKittrick in the front and Constantine in the back.
Sam hadn’t vacuumed since the last time he’d taken Siggy to the dog park, so the back seat was probably dirty. Hopefully Constantine’s suit would be ruined.
The older detective cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize for threatening your dog the other night. He was growling at my partner and I was concerned for her safety.”
Sam blinked. “Oh. Well, he wouldn’t have hurt her.” Probably. “But I accept your apology.”
McKittrick twisted in the seat so that she was looking at Sam directly. “We had a few more questions about Colton Driscoll. Trying to tie up some loose ends.”
Sam stiffened. Her words sounded right, but her body language was off. Something was wrong.
“Okay,” he said warily. “What do you want to know?”
“You told us about what he said concerning the young women—the lacrosse games, the color lilac, the grave site. What did he say about himself?”
“Not a lot. Like I told you, he was a pathological liar. Some liars are unaware that they’re lying. Their brains confabulate images or situations, which tumble out of the individual’s mouth. But I think Colton Driscoll used lies as a crutch. He wasn’t comfortable in social situations, and being someone else allowed him to be charming and sociable. He also used his lies as deflection. He didn’t want to be in therapy and was basically punching a time clock.” He had a sudden recollection. “Oh, wait. Punching. He had abrasions on his knuckles on Friday afternoon. They looked fresh.”
McKittrick nodded. “We saw those. What did he say about them?”
“I thought maybe he’d hit someone. He claimed that one of his coworkers was giving him a bad time, trying to get him in trouble so that the other guy could have his job.”
“I thought he worked in a mail room,” Constantine said.
“He did. I thought the same thing—what job is lower than the mail room that the coworker could have had? But Colton claimed he took out his anger on a wall. The abrasions seemed to match that story. I offered to teach him ways to deal with his anger that wouldn’t hurt him and he seemed receptive for the first time since we’d started sessions.”
“So his coworkers knew about his arrest for assault?” McKittrick asked.
“They at least knew he had an anger management problem. They might have found out about his arrest and probation or they might have heard that he’d lost his IT job because he got mad and punched someone. How much do you know about him?”
“Not a lot,” she admitted. “We’re just getting started digging into his past.”
“Well, he lost at least four IT jobs in the last twenty years because of his temper. Or his lying. Or both. He was a rather... unpleasant man.”
Constantine snorted. “Yeah. We figured. Murdering young girls usually takes an unpleasant person.”
Sam narrowed his eyes at the man and started to bite out a retort, then shook his head. It wasn’t worth it.
Constantine made a face. “Sorry. I worked on these murders over the years.”
“Oh.” Sam hadn’t considered that. There had been several victims. “That must have been disheartening, not being able to get justice for the victims.”
Constantine’s expression grew pained. “It was. Still is. Because those girls didn’t get justice. Their families didn’t get to face Driscoll in court. He took the coward’s way out. So... yeah. ‘Disheartening’ is as good a word as any.”
McKittrick gave her partner a sympathetic look before returning her attention to Sam. “Did he have any friends? Anyone he would have confided in?”
“No. He was very lonely, I think. He could be very charming on the surface. I assume that’s how he was married four times. But none of his marriages lasted that long because he couldn’t keep up the facade. His wives were only eighteen but figured out that he couldn’t be trusted to tell the truth about anything. His longest marriage lasted a year. The shortest was four and a half months. This is according to the court records that came with the referral. By his own account, his wives were ‘cheating whores’ and he left all of them. Of course, after our first session I knew whatever details he’d provided had to be taken with a grain of salt.”
“Like his home address,” McKittrick said.
Sam’s cheeks heated as he remembered that stupid crime board, including the map he’d made of the two potential victims’ homes and Colton’s real address. “Yeah.”
“I would have made the same kind of crime board,” she said softly. “You just had the misfortune of having two suspicious cops see yours at a very bad time.”
