Back at Area Ten they filled Molton in on what they had. Molton asked questions and sympathized, then said, “I ordered the schematics of the train station. It might help you guys. That place is confusing.”
“Thanks,” Fenwick said.
Molton said, “The Scanlan kid has been released.”
“We wanted to talk to him again,” Fenwick said.
“Somebody downtown took care of it.”
“Over your objections?” Fenwick asked.
“Over a lot of people’s objections,” Molton said.
Fenwick said, “With luck, that family will be out of our hair.”
Molton said, “You’re expecting luck on this case?”
Fenwick said, “The goddess promised me.”
Turner said, “The kid is as good as dead. He’s involved in this some way. He’s being used.”
Molton and Fenwick looked at him.
“No, I don’t have proof,” Turner said.
Molton said, “You going back to the party?”
Turner said, “It’s next on the agenda, but it’s still early. The place won’t really get going until after ten. We told them we’d be back between ten and eleven. Until it’s time to leave, we can start catching up on the paperwork on this case.”
Molton said, “Go then. Find. Fix. Solve.” He left.
The forensics report was waiting on their desks. Turner yawned as he opened his. He wanted to sleep.
The last page had the information about the entrance the kid, Scanlan, had taken them to.
Some of the smudges found in the dirt there were the same blood type as Belger. They’d sent their materials for DNA analysis. Turner knew it could take a week or two to get those results. He gave Fenwick the news.
Fenwick said, “Fuck-a-doodle-do. We need to get that kid back in here.”
Turner called the parents. They didn’t know where the kid was. The mother dissolved in tears after she told him that. The father came on the line. He was angry and demanding. Turner didn’t think either reaction helped much at this point, but he understood parents being distraught about their children.
He hung up and told Fenwick who asked, “Already? How can they not know where their kid is?”
“He’s a teenager,” Turner began.
“And they are idiots,” Fenwick finished for him.
Turner said, “They were quite willing to blame us.”
“Idiots,” Fenwick repeated. “Moronic, too stupid to live idiots.”
Turner wasn’t sure he would be quite so harsh in his judgment as Fenwick. The point was they needed to talk to the kid.
Turner and Fenwick began plowing through the mound of paperwork. They would take even more care than usual. Neither wanted the slightest slip-up.
An hour later the lab called. The tech said to Turner, “We’ve been told to rush everything that has to do with the Belger case. We got that box of sex toys you sent over. I can tell you the sex toys have Belger’s fingerprints on them and no one else’s.”
Turner waited. The silence lengthened. Turner said, “That’s it?”
“That’s all I got. No blood. No dust. Oh, sorry, and the clothes from the kid.”
“Yeah.”
“They were the kid’s clothes.”
“That’s it? No blood? No anything?”
“Sorry, that’s it.”
He hung up and reported to Fenwick who said, “Either someone cleaned the stuff we found, or he was always fastidious with his sex toys.”
“Isn’t everyone?” Turner asked.
“I thought you were the one opposed to delving into personal sexual habits in this investigation.”
“Just making an observation.”
Fenwick said, “And the kid wore his own clothes.”
“Another alert the media moment.”