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Arnett shrugged.
Jo closed out the video, and after a long minute, spoke again. “When we were discussing this earlier, I said an innocent man had gone to prison for fifteen years, and you said ‘that’s one way to look at it.’ What’s another way?”
Arnett shifted in his seat. “Ossokov was already under investigation for two other rapes when we brought him in for Zara Richards’ murder. The ADA even had a DNA match from one of the rape kits, so he’d likely have been sentenced to the maximum sentence times two for those alone if the cases hadn’t been put aside in favor of Zara Richards. He’s well aware he served far less than the thirty years he was facing otherwise, and the statute of limitations for those other rapes has expired. So no, I don’t find it hard to believe he’s okay with how things turned out. He knows he got the best end of the stick, and that makes it hard for me to see this as anything other than playing the situation for all it’s worth.”
Jo shook her head. “Why didn’t they prosecute the other rapes?”
He frowned. “Sandra was worried the other rapes would taint the jury because they weren’t clear-cut, and since Richards’ case involved a murder anyway, she felt prosecuting it alone was the stronger way to get a conviction. And if they hadn’t gotten a conviction for Richards’ murder and rape, the office could have prosecuted the other cases after the fact. They still could, except the statute ran out.”
Jo nodded. “And once he was already in prison for life without parole, there was no reason to waste resources by prosecuting the other cases after they’d already won the Richards conviction. Nobody considered his conviction might be overturned.”
“Yep. One in a million thing.”
Jo chewed on her lip. It made sense, and fell under the hard choices prosecutors had to make. They didn’t have an infinite number of chances or resources to make a case against someone, and they had to be strategic about when they had enough evidence to make a conviction stick.
And, she realized—if he really had raped two other women, he had quite a good reason to hide any residual anger he might be harboring. He didn’t need any additional eyes on him—because once rapists and murderers started, they usually didn’t stop.
* * *
Rebecca Ossokov’s house in Chicopee turned out to be a small red-brick duplex with twin white-stone driveways leading up to each side of the house. Well-trimmed bushes lined a well-mown lawn. When they knocked, a sixty-something white woman, dirty-blonde hair streaked with gray and dark blue eyes ringed with heavy liner, yanked open the door.
“What the hell do you want?” she demanded.
Arnett’s expression tightened. Jo shifted her blazer to reveal her badge. “I’m Detective Josette Fournier of the Oakhurst County State Police Detective Unit, and this is Detective Bob Arnett. Is Cooper at home?”
Her eyes blazed. “I know a plainclothes cop when I see one. Haven’t you all done enough?”
A small tendril of guilt tugged at Jo. If Ossokov wasn’t their killer, the visit would feel invasive, at best. But she had a job to do, and very little time to do it in. “We just need to speak with him briefly. Is he at home?”
A voice from inside the house called out to her. “Just let them in, Ma.”
Her jaw clenched, but she shoved open the screen door and stepped back.
The entryway opened onto a crowded living room. Two brown couches kissed each other diagonally around the edge of an oak coffee table, all perched on the edges of a burgundy Agra rug. Ossokov straightened as they entered, pushing the throw pillow lodged behind his back to the end of his couch.
He clicked off the television and gestured to the other couch with the remote. On the inside of his forearm, Jo spotted a yin-yang symbol tattoo, applied in telltale blue prison ink. “Please sit.”
Jo sat on the side closer to Ossokov. “Thank you for talking with us.”
Ossokov’s eyes followed Arnett. “Detective. It’s been quite a while since I’ve had the pleasure.”
Arnett’s expression remained blank. “We have some questions we’d like to ask you.”
“About the Assistant District Attorney who was killed yesterday?” Ossokov asked.
“Yes.” Jo hid her surprise at his candor, and made a snap decision to jump right in. “And the judge killed this morning. Can you tell us where you were both mornings?”
This time his eyes stayed with Jo, and something flashed in them before his brows rose. “Judge Sakurai.”
“You haven’t seen the news yet?” she modulated her surprise. “Judge Sakurai was also murdered.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” His gaze shifted to Jo as she spoke, then slipped back to Arnett. “Yesterday I was here, asleep. I’m a janitor for Denton Dental. I clean up after they close for the day, about seven on Fridays. I finished my work in just under five hours, and was back here a little past midnight. I watched a movie until about two, then slept until ten. Today my morning was as uninteresting as yesterday’s. I was here, in bed, asleep, until about ten this morning.”
Jo glanced at Rebecca, who was still standing. “Do you have anybody who can verify that?”
Ossokov’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. “My mother was asleep when I got home both days. I can tell you the movie I watched yesterday wasJohn Wick.”
“Do you or your neighbors have a security camera that you know of? Maybe they caught you coming home,” Jo asked.
