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“I was at work.”
“And then at the movies. And then working out. Busy night.”
Whittaker’s nostrils flared, and he fisted his hands. Gray had succeeded in getting him angry. He wanted the man’s emotions running hot, because he’d be a hell of a lot more likely to give himself away like that. “My house just burned down, and now you’re accusing me of murder?”
“I’m asking you to tell me what this young woman”—Gray tapped on the photo—“was doing at your house.”
“I told you I don’t know.”
“You didn’t go home to meet her?”
“I work second shift. I like to stay up after I get off and sleep during the day. I gave the officers my ticket stub from the theater, and they found me at the gym so they know I was there. You can verify that I was never home.”
“We’re working on that. How well did you know this young woman?”
“I told you I didn’t know she was at my house.”
He looked away and started to fidget with his cuff. He was lying. Gray was certain of it. “At this point, if you cooperate and give me the information I need, I’m going to assume you thought she was eighteen and that you realize solving her murder is what matters most to me.” The words nearly stuck in Gray’s throat. The fucking asshole might have hired a teenage girl, but if he wasn’t the killer, Gray needed to find whoever was.
“I didn’t kill her.”
“What was she doing at your house?”
“I don’t know. How many times are you going to ask me that?” He was shouting now, face red with anger.
“Men your age aren’t often acquainted with teenage women who’ve been arrested for prostitution unless they’re the johns. So tell me how you know her.”
“I don’t know this girl. Look, I’ve got to figure out what the hell I’m going to do now that my house is gone.”
“And I’ve got to figure out who murdered a teenager.”
“I can’t help you.”
Gray slapped the folder closed. “That remains to be seen.”
He went silent for a few moments, studying Whittaker. The man’s horror at the pictures had seemed real, as had his anger. But his responses were too scripted somehow, like he was saying what was expected. Maybe that was nerves. It wasn’t easy for anyone to act naturally during an interrogation.
Thornton knocked and then leaned into the room. “I need to see you for a moment.”
Before stepping out of the room, Gray looked at Whittaker. “We’re not done.”
“You find out what the girl was doing there?” Thornton asked.
Gray shook his head. “He claims he doesn’t know.”
Thornton took a sip of coffee. Gray wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the man without a cup in his hands. “Damn. His statement checks out, by the way.”
“All of it?”
Thornton nodded. “He clocked out of work at 11:00. His movie ticket was purchased online. One of the employees at the theater remembers seeing him because he raised a stink about the cost of a large popcorn relative to a small. We can even verify that he took the bus to the theater from work since his car is in the shop.”
“There wasn’t time for him to go home before showing up at the gym?”
“No, he says he left the movie and walked to his gym. He would have arrived around two thirty. He scanned his card at 2:32 and the woman at the desk remembers him entering. She said he often comes in between eleven and three.”
“What the fuck is up with people going to the gym at 2:30 in the morning?”
Thornton glanced down at his belly. “I sure as hell don’t know.”
