Ben Walker, the chief of police before Jeffrey, had kept his office in the back of the station, just off the briefing room. A desk the size of an upended commercial refrigerator was in the center of the room with a row of uncomfortable chairs in front of it. Every morning, the men on the senior squad were called into Ben’s office to hear their assignments for the day, then they left and the chief shut his door. What Ben did from this time until five o’clock, when he could be seen scooting down the street to the diner for his supper, was a mystery.
Jeffrey’s first task when he took over Ben’s job was to move his office to the front of the squad room. Using a skill saw, Jeffrey cut a hole in the Sheetrock and installed a glass picture window so that he could sit at his desk and see his men and, more important, so that his men could see him. There were blinds on the window, but he never closed them, and for the most part, his office door was always open.
Two days after Sibyl Adams’s body had been found, Jeffrey sat in his office, reading a report that Marla had just handed him. Nick Shelton at the GBI had been kind enough to rush through the analysis on the box of tea. Results: it was tea.
Jeffrey scratched his chin, looking around his office. It was a small room, but he had built a set of bookshelves into one of the walls in order to keep things neat. Field manuals and statistical reports were stacked alongside marksman trophies he had won at the Birmingham competitions and a signed team football from when he had played at Auburn. Not that he really played. Jeffrey had spent most of his time on the bench, watching the other players build careers for themselves.
A photograph of his mother was tucked into the far corner of the shelf. She was wearing a pink blouse and holding a small wrist corsage in her hands. The photo was taken at Jeffrey’s high school graduation. He had caught his mother giving one of her rare smiles in front of the camera. Her eyes were lit up, probably with the possibilities she saw in front of her son. That he had dropped out of Auburn a year from graduation and taken a job on the Birmingham police force was something she still had not forgiven her only child for.
Marla tapped on his office door, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and a doughnut in the other. On Jeffrey’s first day, she told him that she had never fetched coffee for Ben Walker and she wasn’t about to fetch it for him. Jeffrey had laughed; the thought had never occurred to him. Marla had been bringing him his coffee ever since.
“The doughnut’s for me,” she said, handing him the paper cup. “Nick Shelton’s on line three.”
“Thank you,” he said, waiting for her to leave. Jeffrey sat back in his chair as he picked up the phone. “Nick?”
Nick’s southern drawl came across the line. “How you?”
“Not so great,” Jeffrey answered.
“I hear you,” Nick returned. Then, “Got my report?”
“On the tea?” Jeffrey picked up the sheet of paper, looking over the analysis. For such a simple beverage, a lot of chemicals went into processing tea. “It’s just cheap store-bought tea, right?”
“You got it,” Nick said. “Listen, I tried to call Sara this morning, but I couldn’t find her.”
“That so?”
Nick gave a low chuckle. “You’re never gonna forgive me for asking her out that time, are you, buddy?”
Jeffrey smiled. “Nope.”
“One of my drug people here at the lab is hot on this belladonna. Not many cases come in, and he volunteered to give you guys a face-to-face rundown.”
“That’d be an awfully big help,” Jeffrey said. He saw Lena through the glass window and waved her in.
“Sara talking to you this week?” Nick didn’t wait for an answer. “My guy is gonna want to talk to her about how the victim presented.”
Jeffrey bit back the cutting remark that wanted to come, forcing some cheerfulness into his voice as he said, “How about around ten tomorrow?”
Jeffrey was noting the meeting on his calendar when Lena walked in. As soon as he looked up, she began speaking.
“He doesn’t do drugs anymore.”
“What?”
“At least I don’t think so.”
Jeffrey shook his head, not understanding. “What are you talking about?”
She lowered her voice, saying, “My uncle Hank.” She held her forearms out to him.
“Oh.” Jeffrey finally got it. He had not been sure if Hank Norton was a past drug addict or had been in a disfiguring fire, his arms were so scarred. “Yeah, I saw they were old.”
She said, “He was a speed freak, okay?”
Her tone was hostile. Jeffrey gathered she had been stewing on this since he had left her at Nan Thomas’s house. So, this made two things she was ashamed of, her sister’s homosexuality and her uncle’s past drug problem. Jeffrey wondered if there was anything in Lena’s life other than her job that gave Lena pleasure.
“What?” Lena demanded.
“Nothing,” Jeffrey said, standing. He took his suit coat off the peg behind his door and ushered Lena out of the office. “You got the list?”
She seemed irritated that he did not want to chastise her for her uncle’s old drug habit.
She handed him a sheet of notebook paper. “This is what Nan and I came up with last night. It’s a list of people who worked with Sibyl, who might have talked to her before she…” Lena did not finish the sentence.
Jeffrey glanced down. There were six names. One had a star drawn beside it. Lena seemed to anticipate his question.
She said, “Richard Carter is her GTA. Graduate teaching assistant. She had a nine o’clock class at the school. Other than Pete, he’s probably the last person who saw her alive.”
“That name sounds familiar for some reason,” Jeffrey said, slipping on his coat. “He’s the only student on the list?”
“Yes,” Lena answered. “Plus, he’s kind of weird.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’ve never liked him.”
Jeffrey held his tongue, thinking that Lena did not like a lot of people. That was hardly a good reason to look at someone for murder.
He said, “Let’s start with Carter first, then we’ll talk to the dean.” At the entrance, he held the door open for her. “The mayor will have a heart attack if we don’t go through the proper protocols with the professors. Students are fair game.”
The Grant Institute of Technology’s campus consisted of a student center, four classroom buildings, the administrative building, and an agricultural wing that had been donated by a very grateful seed manufacturer. Lush grounds surrounded the university on one side, with the lake backing up to the other. Student housing was within walking distance of all the buildings, and bicycles were the most common mode of campus transportation.
Jeffrey followed Lena to the third floor of the science classroom building. She had obviously met her sister’s assistant before, because Richard Carter’s face soured when he recognized Lena at the door. He was a short, balding man who wore heavy black glasses and an ill-fitting lab coat over a bright yellow dress shirt. He had that anal-retentive air about him that most of the college people had. The Grant Institute of Technology was a school for geeks, plain and simple. English classes were mandatory but not exactly difficult. The school was geared more toward turning out patents than socially evolved men and women. That was the biggest problem Jeffrey had with the school. Most of the professors and all of the students had their heads so far up their asses they couldn’t see the world in front of them.
“Sibyl was a brilliant scientist,” Richard said, leaning over a microscope. He mumbled something, then looked back up, directing his words to Lena. “She had an amazing memory.”
“She had to,” Lena said, taking out her notebook. Jeffrey wondered not for the first time if he should let Lena ride along with him. More than anything, he wanted her underfoot. After yesterday, he did not know if he could trust her to do what he told her to do. It was better to keep her close by and safe than let her go off on her own.
“Her work,” Richard began. “I can’t describe how meticulous she was, how exacting. It’s very rare to see such a high standard of attention in this field anymore. She was my mentor.”
“Right,” Lena said.
Richard gave her a sour, disapproving look, asking, “When’s the funeral?”
Lena seemed taken aback by the question. “She’s being cremated,” she said. “That’s what she wanted.”
Richard clasped his hands in front of his belly. The same disapproving look was on his face. It was almost condescending, but not quite. For just a moment, Jeffrey caught something behind his expression. Richard turned, though, and Jeffrey was not sure if he had been reading too much into things.
Lena began, “There’s a wake, I guess you’d call it, tonight.” She scribbled on her pad, then ripped the sheet off. “It’s at Brock’s Funeral Home on King Street at five.”
Richard glanced down his nose at the paper before folding it neatly in two, then again, then tucking it into the pocket of his lab coat. He sniffed, using the back of his hand to wipe his nose. Jeffrey could not tell if he had a cold or was trying not to cry.
Lena asked, “So, was there anyone strange hanging around the lab or Sibyl’s office?”
Richard shook his head. “Just the usual weirdos.” He laughed, then stopped abruptly. “I guess that’s not altogether appropriate.”
“No,” Lena said. “It’s not.”
Jeffrey cleared his throat, getting the young man’s attention. “When was the last time you saw her, Richard?”
“After her morning class,” he said. “She wasn’t feeling well. I think I caught her cold.” He took out a tissue as if to support this. “She was such a wonderful person. I really can’t tell you how lucky I was that she took me under her wing.”
“What did you do after she left school?” Jeffrey asked.
He shrugged. “Probably went to the library.”
“Probably?” Jeffrey asked, not liking his casual tone.
Richard seemed to pick up on Jeffrey’s irritation. “I was at the library,” he amended. “Sibyl asked me to look up some references.”
Lena took over, asking, “Was there anyone acting strange around her? Maybe dropping by more than usual?”
Richard shook his head side to side again, his lips pursed. “Not really. We’re more than halfway through the term. Sibyl teaches upper-level classes, so most of her students have been here for a couple of years at least.”
“No new faces in the crowd?” Jeffrey asked.
Again Richard shook his head. He reminded Jeffrey of one of those bobbing dogs some people put on their dashboards.
Richard said, “We’re a small community here. Somebody acting strange would stick out.”
Jeffrey was about to ask another question when Kevin Blake, the dean of the college, walked into the room. He did not look happy.
“Chief Tolliver,” Blake said. “I assume you’re here about the missing student.”
Julia Matthews was a twenty-three-year-old junior majoring in physical science. She had been missing for two days, according to her dorm mate.
Jeffrey walked around the young woman’s dorm room. There were posters on the wall with encouraging statements about success and victory. On the bedside table was a photograph of the missing girl standing beside a man and a woman who were obviously her parents. Julia Matthews was an attractive girl in a plain, wholesome way. In the photograph, her dark hair was pulled into pigtails on either side of her head. She had a snaggled front tooth, but other than that, she looked like the perfect girl next door. As a matter of fact, she looked very much like Sibyl Adams.
“They’re out of town,” Jenny Price, the missing girl’s dorm mate, supplied. She stood in the doorway wringing her hands as she watched Jeffrey and Lena search the room.
She continued. “It’s their twentieth wedding anniversary. They went on a cruise to the Bahamas.”
“She’s very pretty,” Lena said, obviously trying to calm the girl. Jeffrey wondered if Lena noticed the similarity between Julia Matthews and her sister. They both had olive-colored skin and dark hair. They both looked to be about the same age, though Sibyl was in fact ten years older. Jeffrey felt uncomfortable and set the picture down as he realized that both women resembled Lena as well.
Lena turned her attention to Jenny, asking, “When did you first notice she was missing?”
“When I got back from class yesterday, I guess,” Jenny answered. A slight redness came to her cheeks. “She’s been gone overnight before, right?”
“Sure,” Lena supplied.
“I thought maybe she was out with Ryan. That’s her old boyfriend?” She paused. “They broke up about a month ago. I saw them at the library together a couple of days ago, around nine o’clock at night. That was the last time I saw her.”
Lena picked up on the boyfriend, saying, “It’s pretty stressful trying to have a relationship when you’ve got classes and work to do.”
Jenny gave her a weak smile. “Yeah. Ryan’s in the agricultural school. His workload isn’t nearly as heavy as Julia’s.” She rolled her eyes. “As long as his plants don’t die, he gets an A. Meanwhile we’re studying all night, trying to get lab time.”
“I remember what it was like,” Lena said, though she had never been to college. The easy way lies came to her both alarmed and impressed Jeffrey. She was one of the best interviewers he had ever seen.
Jenny smiled and her shoulders relaxed. Lena’s lie had done the trick. “You know how it is, then. It’s hard to make time to breathe, let alone have a boyfriend.”
Lena asked, “They broke up because she didn’t have enough time for him?”
Jenny nodded. “He’s her first boyfriend ever. Julia was really upset.” She gave Jeffrey a nervous glance. “She really fell hard for him, you know? She was sick, like, with grief, when they broke up. She wouldn’t even get out of bed.”
Lena lowered her voice, as if to leave Jeffrey out. “I guess when you saw them in the library, they weren’t exactly studying.”
Jenny glanced at Jeffrey. “No.” She laughed nervously.
Lena walked over, blocking his view of the girl. Jeffrey took the hint. He turned his back to the two women, pretending to take an interest in the contents of Julia’s desk.
Lena’s voice dropped to a conversational tone. “What do you think about Ryan?”
“You mean, do I like him?”
“Yeah,” Lena answered. “I mean, not like like him. I mean, does he seem like a nice guy?”
The girl was quiet for a while. Jeffrey picked up a science book and thumbed through the pages.
Finally, Jenny said, “Well, he was kind of selfish, you know? And he didn’t like it when she couldn’t see him.”
“Kind of controlling?”
“Yeah, I guess,” the girl answered. “She’s from the sticks, okay? Ryan kind of takes advantage of that. Julia doesn’t know a lot about the world. She thinks he does.”
“Does he?”
“God, no.” Jenny laughed. “I mean, he’s not a bad guy—”
“Of course not.”
“He’s just…” She paused. “He doesn’t like for her to talk to other people, okay? He’s, like, scared that she’ll see there are better guys out there. At least, that’s what I think. Julia’s kind of been sheltered all her life. She doesn’t know to look out for guys like that.” Again she paused. “He’s not a bad guy, he’s just needy, you know? He has to know where she’s going, who she’ll be with, when she’ll be back. He doesn’t like for her to have any time to herself at all.”
Lena’s voice was still low. “He never hit her, did he?”
“No, not like that.” Again the girl was silent. Then, “He just yelled at her a lot. Sometimes when I would come back from study group, I would listen at the door, you know?”
“Yeah,” Lena said. “To make sure.”
“Right,” Jenny agreed, a nervous giggle escaping. “Well, one time, I heard him in here and he was being so mean to her. Just saying nasty things.”
“Nasty like what?”
“Like that she was bad,” Jenny said. “Like that she was going to hell for being so bad.”
Lena took her time asking the next question. “He’s a religious guy?”
Jenny made a derisive sound. “When it’s convenient. He knows that Julia is. She’s really into church and all. I mean, she was back home. She doesn’t go much here, but she’s always talking about being in the choir and being a good Christian and that kind of thing.”
“But Ryan’s not religious?”
“Only when he thinks he can work her with something. Like he says he’s real religious, but he’s got all kinds of body piercings, and he’s always wearing black and he—” She stopped speaking.
Lena lowered her voice. “What?” she asked then, even lower. “I won’t tell anybody.”
Jenny whispered something, but Jeffrey couldn’t make out what she was saying.
“Oh,” Lena said as if she had heard it all. “Guys are so stupid.”
Jenny laughed. “She believed him.”
Lena chuckled with her, then asked, “What did Julia do that was so bad, do you think? I mean, to get Ryan upset at her like that?”
“Nothing,” Jenny answered vehemently. “That’s what I asked her later. She wouldn’t tell me. She just lay in bed all day, not saying anything.”
“This was around the time they broke up?”
“Yeah,” Jenny confirmed. “Last month, like I said.” There was worry in her voice when she asked, “You don’t think he has anything to do with her being missing, do you?”
“No,” Lena said. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”
Jeffrey turned around, asking, “What’s Ryan’s last name?”
“Gordon,” the girl supplied. “Do you think Julia’s in trouble?”
Jeffrey considered her question. He could tell her not to worry, but that might give the girl a false sense of security. He settled for, “I don’t know, Jenny. We’ll do everything we can to find her.”
A quick visit to the registrar’s office revealed that Ryan Gordon was study hall monitor this time of day. The agricultural wing was on the outskirts of the campus, and Jeffrey felt his anxiety build with every step they took across the campus. He sensed the tension coming from Lena as well. Two days had passed with no solid leads. They could very well be about to meet the man who had killed Sibyl Adams.
Granted, Jeffrey was not prepared to be Ryan Gordon’s best friend, but there was something about the kid that set Jeffrey against him the minute they met. He had his eyebrow and both ears pierced as well as a ring hanging out from the septum in the middle of his nose. The ring looked black and crusty, more like something you would put in an ox rather than in a human nose. Jenny’s description of Ryan Gordon had not been kind, but in retrospect, Jeffrey thought she had been generous. Ryan looked filthy. His face was an oily mix of acne and healing scabs. His hair looked like it had not been washed in days. His black jeans and shirt were rumpled. There was an odd odor coming off him.
Julia Matthews was, by all accounts, a very attractive young woman. How someone like Ryan Gordon had managed to snag her was a mystery to Jeffrey. This said a lot about the type of kid Gordon was, if he could manage to control someone who could quite clearly do a hell of a lot better than him.
Jeffrey noticed the kind part of Lena that had earlier worked Jenny Price was long gone by the time they reached the study hall classroom. She walked purposefully into the room, ignoring the curious glances coming from the other students, mostly male, as she made a beeline for the kid sitting behind the desk in front of the class.
“Ryan Gordon?” she asked, leaning over the desk. Her jacket pulled back, and Jeffrey saw the kid’s eyes gave her gun a sharp glance. His lips stayed pressed into a tight, surly line, though, and when he answered, Jeffrey felt the urge to smack him.
Gordon said, “What’s it to you, bitch?”
Jeffrey grabbed the kid up by his collar and duck-walked him out of the room. Even as he did this, Jeffrey was certain there would be an angry message from the mayor before he got back to the office.
Outside the study room, he pushed Gordon into the wall. Jeffrey took out his handkerchief, wiping the grease off his hand. “They got showers in your dorm?” he asked.
Gordon’s voice was just as whiny as Jeffrey had expected. “This is police brutality.”
To Jeffrey’s surprise, Lena gave Gordon an open-palmed slap.
Gordon rubbed his cheek, his mouth turned down at the corners. He seemed to size Lena up. Jeffrey found the look he gave her almost comical. Ryan Gordon was thin as a rail, about Lena’s height if not her weight. She had attitude on him in spades. Jeffrey had no doubt that Lena would rip his throat open with her bare teeth if Gordon tried to push her.
Gordon seemed to understand this. He took on a passive posture, his voice a nasally whine, perhaps from the ring in his nose, which bobbed when he spoke. “What do you want from me, man?”
He held his arms up defensively as Lena’s hand reached out to his chest.
She said, “Put your hands down, you pussy.” She reached down into his shirt and pulled up the cross hanging on a chain around his neck.
“Nice necklace,” she said.
Jeffrey asked, “Where were you Monday afternoon?”
Gordon looked from Lena to Jeffrey. “What?”
“Where were you Monday afternoon?” Jeffrey repeated.
“I don’t know, man,” he whined. “Sleeping, probably.” He sniffed, rubbing his nose. Jeffrey fought the urge to cringe as the ring in his nose moved back and forth.
“Up against the wall,” Lena ordered, pushing him around. Gordon started to protest, but a look from Lena stopped him. He spread his arms and legs out, assuming the position.
Lena patted him down, asking, “I’m not going to find any needles, am I? Nothing that would hurt me?”
Gordon groaned, “No,” as she reached into his front pocket.
Lena smiled, pulling out a bag of white powder. “This isn’t sugar, is it?” she asked Jeffrey.
He took the bag, surprised that she had found it. This would certainly explain Gordon’s appearance. Drug addicts weren’t the most conscientious groomers in the world. For the first time that morning, Jeffrey was glad to have Lena around. He would never have thought to frisk the boy.
Gordon glanced over his shoulder, looking at the bag. “These aren’t my pants.”
“Right,” Lena snapped. Spinning Gordon around, she asked, “When was the last time you saw Julia Matthews?”
Gordon’s face registered his thoughts. He obviously knew where this was leading. The powder was the least of his problems. “We broke up a month ago.”
“That doesn’t answer the question,” Lena said. She repeated, “When was the last time you saw Julia Matthews?”
Gordon crossed his arms in front of his chest. Jeffrey realized instantly that he had mishandled this whole thing. Nerves and excitement had gotten the better of him. In his mind, Jeffrey said the words that Gordon spoke aloud.
“I want to talk to a lawyer.”
Jeffrey propped his feet on the table in front of his chair. They were in the interview room, waiting for Ryan Gordon to be processed. Unfortunately, Gordon had kept his mouth closed tighter than a steel trap from the minute Lena read him his rights. Luckily, Gordon’s roommate at the dorms had been more than happy to allow a search. This had yielded nothing more suspicious than a pack of rolling papers and a mirror with a razor blade lying on top of it. Jeffrey wasn’t sure, but judging from the roommate, the drug paraphernalia could have belonged to either boy. A search of the lab where Gordon worked did not add any additional clues to the pot. The best-case scenario was Julia Matthews had realized what an asshole her boyfriend was and split.
“We fucked up,” Jeffrey said, resting his hand on a copy of the Grant County Observer.
Lena nodded. “Yeah.”
He took a deep breath and let it go. “I suppose a kid like that would’ve lawyered up anyway.”
“I don’t know,” Lena answered. “Maybe he watches too much TV.”
Jeffrey should have expected this. Any idiot with a television knew to ask for a lawyer when the cops showed up at your door.
“I could have been a little softer,” she countered. “Obviously, if he’s our guy, he wouldn’t exactly be happy to have a woman pushing him around.” She gave a humorless laugh. “Especially me, looking just like her.”
“Maybe that’ll work some in our favor,” he offered. “What about I leave you two alone here while we wait for Buddy Conford?”
“He got Buddy?” Lena asked, her tone indicating her displeasure. There were a handful of lawyers in Grant who took on public defender work for a reduced fee. Of them all, Buddy Conford was the most tenacious.
“He’s on the rotation this month,” Jeffrey said. “You think Gordon’s stupid enough to talk?”
“He’s never been arrested before. He doesn’t strike me as particularly savvy.”
Jeffrey was silent, waiting for her to continue.
“He’s probably pretty pissed at me for slapping him,” she said, and he could see her working out an approach in her mind. “Why don’t you help me set it up? Tell me not to talk to him.”
Jeffrey nodded. “It might work.”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
Jeffrey was silent, staring at the table. Finally he tapped his finger on the front page of the paper. A picture of Sibyl Adams took up most of the space above the fold. “I guess you saw this?”
She nodded, not looking at the photo.
Jeffrey turned the paper over. “It doesn’t say she was raped, but they hint at it. I told them she was beaten, but she wasn’t.”
“I know,” she mumbled. “I read it.”
“Frank and the guys,” Jeffrey began, “they haven’t found anything solid from the known offender list. There were a couple Frank wanted to look at seriously, but nothing panned out. They both had alibis.”
Lena stared at her hands.
Jeffrey said, “You can leave after this. I know you probably need to get some things together for tonight.”
Her acquiescence surprised him. “Thank you.”
A knock came at the door, then Brad Stephens poked his head in. “I’ve got your guy out here.”
Jeffrey stood, saying, “Bring him in.”
Ryan Gordon looked even more puny in the orange jailhouse jumper than he had in his black jeans and shirt. His feet shuffled in the matching orange slippers, and his hair was still wet from the hosing down Jeffrey had ordered. Gordon’s hands were cuffed behind his back, and Brad handed Jeffrey the key before leaving.
“Where’s my lawyer?” Gordon demanded.
“He should be here in about fifteen minutes,” Jeffrey answered, pushing the kid down into a chair. He unlocked the handcuffs, but before Gordon could move his arms he had cuffed him back through the rungs of the chair.
“That’s too tight,” Gordon whined, pushing his chest out to exaggerate his discomfort. He pulled at the chair, but his hands stayed tight behind him.
“Live with it,” Jeffrey muttered, then said to Lena, “I’m going to leave you in here with him. Don’t let him say anything off-the-record, do you hear me?”
Lena cast her eyes down. “Yes, sir.”
“I mean it, Detective.” He gave her what he hoped was a stern look, then walked out of the room. Jeffrey took the next door down, entering the observation room. He stood with his arms crossed, watching Gordon and Lena through the one-way glass.
The interview room was relatively small with painted cement blocks for walls. A table was bolted to the center of the floor with three chairs spread around it. Two on one side, one on the other. Jeffrey watched Lena pick up the newspaper. She propped her feet up on the table, leaning the chair back a little as she opened the Grant County Observer to an inside page. Jeffrey heard the speaker next to him crackle as she folded the paper along the seam.
Gordon said, “I want some water.”
“Don’t talk,” Lena ordered, her voice so low Jeffrey had to turn up the speaker on the wall to hear her.
“Why? You gonna get in trouble?”
Lena kept her nose in the paper.
“You should get in trouble,” Gordon said, leaning over as much as he could in the chair. “I’m gonna tell my lawyer you slapped me.”
Lena snorted a laugh. “What do you weigh, one fifty? You’re about five six?” She put the paper down, giving him a soft, innocent expression. Her voice was high-pitched and girlish. “I would never hit a suspect in custody, Your Honor. He’s so big and strong, I’d be afraid for my life.”
Gordon’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You think you’re pretty funny.”
“Yeah,” Lena said, returning to the paper. “I really do.”
Gordon took a minute or two to refigure his approach. He pointed to the newspaper. “You’re that dyke’s sister.”
Lena’s voice was still light, though Jeffrey knew she must have wanted to climb over the table and kill him. She said, “That’s right.”
“She got killed,” he said. “Everybody on campus knew she was a dyke.”
“She certainly was.”
Gordon licked his lips. “Fucking dyke.”
“Yep.” Lena turned the page, looking as if she was bored.
“Dyke,” he repeated. “Fucking clit licker.” He paused, waiting for a reaction, obviously irritated that there was none. He said, “Gash grinder.”
Lena gave a bored sigh. “Bushwhacker, eats at the Y, dials O on her friend’s little pink telephone.” She paused, looking at him over the paper, asking, “Leaving any out?”
While Jeffrey felt an appreciation for Lena’s technique, he said a small prayer of thanks that she had not chosen a life of crime.
Gordon said, “That’s what you’ve got me in here for, right? You think I raped her?”
Lena kept the paper up, but Jeffrey knew her heartbeat was probably going as fast as his. Gordon could be guessing, or he could be looking for a way to confess.
Lena asked, “Did you rape her?”
“Maybe,” Gordon said. He started rocking the chair back and forth, like a little boy craving attention. “Maybe I fucked her. You wanna know about it?”
“Sure,” Lena said. She put the paper down, crossing her arms. “Why don’t you tell me all about it?”
Gordon leaned toward her. “She was in the bathroom, right?”
“You tell me.”
“She was washing her hands, and I went in and fucked her up the ass. She liked it so much she died on the spot.”
Lena gave a heavy sigh. “That’s the best you can do?”
He seemed insulted. “No.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you did to Julia Matthews?”
He sat back in the chair, leaning on his hands. “I didn’t do anything to her.”
“Where is she, then?”
He shrugged. “Probably dead.”
“Why do you say that?”
He leaned forward, his chest pressed into the table. “She’s tried to kill herself before.”
Lena did not skip a beat. “Yeah, I know. Slit her wrists.”
“That’s right.” Gordon nodded, though Jeffrey could see the surprise in his face. Jeffrey was surprised, too, though it made perfect sense. Women were far more likely to choose slitting their wrists over the many other methods of suicide. Lena had made a calculated guess.
Lena summarized, “She slit her wrists last month.”
He cocked his head, giving her a strange look. “How’d you know that?”
Lena sighed again, picking the paper back up. She opened it with a snap, then started to read.
Gordon started rocking his chair back and forth again.
Lena did not look up from the paper. “Where is she, Ryan?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you rape her?”
“I didn’t have to rape her. She was a damn lapdog.”
“You let her go down on you?”
“That’s right.”
“That the only way you could get it up, Ryan?”
“Shit.” He dropped the chair. “You’re not supposed to be talking to me anyway.”
“Why?”
“’Cause this is off-the-record. I can say anything I want and it doesn’t matter.”
“What do you want to say?”
His lips twitched. He leaned over farther. From Jeffrey’s perspective, he thought that with Gordon’s hands cuffed behind him, the kid almost looked hog-tied.
Gordon whispered, “Maybe I want to talk about your sister some more.”
Lena ignored him.
“Maybe I wanna talk about how I beat her to death.”
“You don’t look like the type of guy who knows how to use a hammer.”
He seemed taken aback by this. “I am,” he assured her. “I beat her in the head, then I fucked her with the hammer.”
Lena folded the paper to a new page. “Where’d you leave the hammer?”
He looked smug. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“What was Julia up to, Ryan?” Lena asked casually. “She screwing around on you? Maybe she found a real man.”
“Fuck that, bitch,” Gordon snapped. “I am a real man.”
“Right.”
“Take off these cuffs and I’ll show you.”
“I bet you will,” Lena said, her tone indicating she was not in the least bit threatened. “Why did she run around on you?”
“She didn’t,” he said. “That bitch Jenny Price tell you that? She doesn’t know anything about it.”
“About how Julia wanted to leave you? About how you followed her around all the time, wouldn’t leave her alone?”
“Is that what this is about?” Gordon asked. “That why you got me freaking chained up?”
“We’ve got you chained up for the coke in your pocket.”
He snorted. “It wasn’t mine.”
“Not your pants, right?”
He slammed his chest into the table, his face a mask of anger. “Listen, bitch—”
Lena stood in front of him, leaning over the table, her face in his. “Where is she?”
Spit came from his mouth. “Fuck you.”
In one quick motion, Lena grabbed the ring hanging down from his nose.
“Ow, shit,” Gordon screamed as he leaned over, his chest slamming into the table, his arms sticking up behind his back. “Help!” he screamed. The glass in front of Jeffrey shook from the noise.
Lena whispered, “Where is she?”
“I saw her a couple of days ago,” he managed through gritted teeth. “Jesus, please let go.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” he yelled. “Please, I don’t know! You’re gonna pull it out.”
Lena released the ring, wiping her hand on her pants. “You stupid little twit.”
Ryan wiggled his nose, probably making sure it was still there. “You hurt me,” he whined. “That hurt.”
“You want me to hurt you some more?” Lena offered, resting her hand on her gun.
Gordon tucked his head into his chest, mumbling, “She tried to kill herself because I left her. She loved me that much.”
“I think she didn’t have a clue,” Lena countered. “I think she was pretty much fresh off the truck and you took advantage of her.” She stood up, leaning halfway over the table. “What’s more, I don’t think you have the balls to kill a fly, let alone a living person, and if I ever”—Lena slammed her hands into the table, her anger bursting like a grenade—“if I ever hear you say anything else about my sister, Ryan, anything at all, I will kill you. Trust me on this, I know I have it in me. I don’t doubt that for a second.”
Gordon’s mouth moved wordlessly.
Jeffrey was so engrossed in the interview that he didn’t notice the knock at the door.
“Jeffrey?” Marla said, poking her head into the observation room. “We got a situation at Will Harris’s place.”
“Will Harris?” Jeffrey asked, thinking that was the last name he had expected to hear today. “What happened?”
Marla stepped into the room, lowering her voice. “Somebody threw a rock in the front window of his house.”
Frank Wallace and Matt Hogan were standing on Will Harris’s front lawn when Jeffrey pulled up. He wondered how long they had been there. Wondered, too, if they knew who had done this. Matt Hogan did not have qualms about hiding his prejudices. Frank, on the other hand, Jeffrey was not sure about. What he did know was Frank had been in on the interview of Pete Wayne yesterday. Jeffrey felt his tension build as he parked the car. He did not like being in a position where he could not trust his own men.
“What the hell happened?” Jeffrey asked, getting out of the car. “Who did this?”
Frank said, “He got home about half an hour ago. Said he was working at old Miss Betty’s house, aerating her yard. Came home and saw this.”
“It was a rock?”
“Brick, actually,” Frank said. “Same kind you see everywhere. Had a note around it.”
“What’d it say?”
Frank looked down at the ground, then back up. “Will’s got it.”
Jeffrey looked at the picture window, which had a large hole in it. The two windows on either side were untouched, but the glass in the center would cost a small fortune to replace. “Where is he?” Jeffrey asked.
Matt nodded toward the front door. He had the same smug look Jeffrey had seen on Ryan Gordon a few minutes ago.
Matt said, “In the house.”
Jeffrey started toward the door, then stopped himself. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty. “Go buy some plywood,” he said. “Bring it back here as soon as possible.”
Matt’s jaw set, but Jeffrey leveled him with a hard stare. “You got something you want to say to me, Matt?”
Frank interjected, “We’ll see if we can get some glass on order while we’re there.”
“Yeah,” Matt grumbled, walking toward the car.
Frank started to follow, but Jeffrey stopped him. He asked, “You got any idea who might have done this?”
Frank stared down at his feet for a few seconds. “Matt was with me all morning, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“It was.”
Frank looked back up. “I’ll tell you what, Chief, I find out who did, I’ll take care of it.”
He did not wait around for Jeffrey’s opinion on this. He turned, walking back toward Matt’s car. Jeffrey waited for them to drive off before walking up the drive to Will Harris’s house.
Jeffrey gave the screen door a gentle knock before letting himself in. Will Harris was sitting in his chair, a glass of iced tea beside him. He stood when Jeffrey entered the room.
“I didn’t mean to bring you out here,” Will said. “I was just reporting it. My neighbor got me kind of scared.”
“Which one?” Jeffrey asked.
“Mrs. Barr across the way.” He pointed out the window. “She’s an older woman, scares real easy. She said she didn’t see anything. Your people already asked her.” He walked back to his chair and picked up a piece of white paper, which he offered to Jeffrey. “I got kind of scared, too, when I saw this.”
Jeffrey took the paper, tasting bile in the back of his throat as he read the threatening words typed onto the white sheet of paper. The note said: “Watch your back, nigger.”
Jeffrey folded the paper, tucking it into his pocket. He put his hands on his hips, looking around the room. “Nice place you got here.”
“Thank you,” Will returned.
Jeffrey turned toward the front windows. He did not have a good feeling about this. Will Harris’s life was in danger simply because Jeffrey had talked to him the other day. He asked, “You mind if I sleep on your couch tonight?”
Will seemed surprised. “You think that’s necessary?”
Jeffrey shrugged. “Better safe than sorry, don’t you think?”