Scott
Monday evening, the precinct was strangely slow, so Scott had a chance to investigate some leads that might point to Vicktor’s whereabouts. The problem was, every lead he chased down was giving him more questions than answers.
His neighbors still hadn’t seen him. They’d discovered he’d been seeing a psychologist, a Dr. Park, but the man wouldn’t speak with them, citing professional ethics which prevented him from discussing the case unless he was asked to testify. Even after they flashed their badges, the guy wouldn’t budge.
“I see a lot of clients with criminal records,” Dr. Park said. “I owe it to my clients to protect their privacy. If he or someone else is in danger, I can tell you that I don’t know where he is right now. But if you need more information from me, I’ll need something from a judge.”
None of the women who’d filed police reports seemed to know who might have helped their exes and former friends and disgruntled co-workers harass them, though many of the connections pointed back to those men being involved with the Yale community, which they’d already guessed. The campus police force was equally stumped. He was helping Carter drive by a few of the men’s houses in free moments to see if anything looked awry or if they spotted the Russian. So far, they hadn’t.
When he went to question the staff at the university computer lab, he not only didn’t get any clear answers, but began to question what they had found out.
“Viktor? Harassing people online?” One of the other students asked, his dark bushy eyebrows knitted together. “You sure?”
Scott explained that Viktor was wanted on suspicion of harassment, and assumed that since he worked at a computer lab, he had the skills necessary. That assumption was about to make an ass out of him.
“We hired him because he said he’d worked in a computer lab back home, but to be honest, he couldn’t help a lot of people who came in here,” the guy explained. “I think he probably lied about his experience. Also, there was a language barrier there. He could speak English fine, but he couldn’t read or write it for shit. These things you found online have a lot of typos?”
Scott put his hands on his hips and exhaled. “No.”
“Viktor may not be your guy, then.”
“Damn.” Scott drove back to the station to confer with Carter later that night. When he thought about it, it made sense that Viktor hadn’t been acting alone. Hadn’t Kim and her manager described him as aloof? How’d he’d rustle up clients?
While he drove, Scott whipped his phone out of his pocket and dialed Kim. As the day wore on, his feeling of security that Kim was safe from whoever had messed with her was evaporating. There was someone else with their hands in this. Maybe more than one person.
He got her voicemail. Swearing, he ended the call. That had been happening more frequently the past couple days. If Bette was able to watch Lily and she didn’t have to work, she would leave for long stretches of time to meet more women on that list. Thinking about her doing that alone made his muscles clench and a trickle of fear vibrate down his spine. If there was a lair in all this, pretty soon Kim would stumble upon it, unarmed and unprepared. He had to put a stop to it next time he got ahold of her.
Detective Morales was at her desk, her long dark hair over one shoulder and half-braided, like she’d been playing with it while lost in thought.
Scott filled her in on what he’d learned at the computer lab.
Carter tapped a pencil against her lips. “So what do we know about all this?”
“That it’s a hell of a lot more complicated than we thought last week.”
She smiled grimly.
Scott rubbed his jaw. “Viktor Antonovich didn’t do the harassment alone. He left those notes, maybe uploaded some photos, but he couldn’t have written those ads online. He doesn’t have a great grasp of written English. He’s got an accomplice. Maybe more than one.”
Carter nodded. “And that person does know English. Probably a native speaker. Probably we’re still looking for a guy who’s not crazy about women.”
“And is connected to the Yale community.”
“And is connected to Yale,” Carter agreed. “Also, he’s friendly, maybe even charming. Viktor is quiet, right? This guy got dozens of men to pay him to stalk their exes. He’s a salesman.” She dropped the pencil and began braiding her hair again, staring off over Scott’s shoulder. “Sure, maybe word of mouth spread after a while, but I’d put money on this perp at least not being withdrawn. He’s earned the trust of these guys somehow.”
“I think you’re right.” He dropped in a nearby chair, making a steeple with his fingers as he stared at the ceiling. A thought occurred to him. “Did you hear about these underground parties they have off campus on Wednesday nights?”
“No.”
He straightened up and looked at her. “I stumbled upon one the other week. It was in the basement of an old house. Looked like some stuff was going on there the attendees wouldn’t want the university or local law enforcement to know about. Someone there might know about this, or know someone who does.” He only knew it was a regular thing because of Kim, and as he remembered that evening, he thought of Hutch, that cocky ex of Kim’s. The fingers of his right hand closed in a fist. “In fact,” he said through gritted teeth, “I met a guy that night who’s clearly on the wrong side of the law. Late twenties, shaved head, built physique. Dealer.” A shot of adrenaline raced through him, and he leaned towards Carter and spoke quickly. “His name’s Hutch. And from what I know, he’s well-connected.”
She met his eyes. “Charming?”
“If you like snakes.”
Carter crossed her arms. “I need to get into that party.”
His cell rang.
Kim. He picked up.
“Where are you?” he nearly growled.
“On my way back to your place,” she said. “I’m sorry I missed your call.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes…”
“Good. Keep it that way. I’ll be home in half an hour.”
“Wait, Scott.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t think Viktor did it. I mean, not all of it.”
“Yeah?” They’d figured that out, but he wanted to hear what she had to say.
“The woman I met with on Saturday, Destani, she told me something that I’ve been thinking about. The more women I contact, the more I think she’s right. It was some Yale guy who did this. Destani used to hang around a group of asshole university guys, and she thinks one of them is the person. He’s not Russian, Scott.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
He cleared his throat. “I don’t want you meeting with any more of those women. I’m not asking this time.”
“What?” She sounded surprised, but her tone was laced with a shot of irritation.
Would she always drive him crazy like this?
“Go straight back to my place. Bette’s there. Tell her to stay until I get back, or stay the night. And don’t take any calls from your ex.”
“You think Hutch had something to do with this?”
He let his silence answer her. After a beat, he added, “I’ll see you at home,” and ended the call.
Carter was watching him, but her lips were pursed like she’d been pondering something else.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
Carter stood and grabbed her bag. “Oh, nothing,” she drawled. “I’m just trying to think of the best place to get clothes if a woman wanted to make herself look like a hot grad student.”