“Marcy,” Bixby snapped. “Set up conference room two. I’ll be in my office.”
Secrest just leveled them a long bitter look before following his boss.
“I wonder if we’ll hear paper shredders in the next few minutes,” Reed murmured.
“Patrick said we didn’t have enough for a warrant for all their files,” Mia murmured back, disgusted. “But maybe we’ll have enough for Thompson’s if we can show he’s skipped town. Let’s make some calls.” She frowned at Marcy. “Outside I think.”
Outside, she pulled her phone from her pocket. “I’ll call Patrick and see if we can get a warrant for Thompson’s computer and file cabinets both here and at home. Can you call Spinnelli? Ask him to send a unit to Thompson’s house. Find out if he’s there.”
“I’ll also ask for units to cover the exits here. I don’t want anybody slipping away.”
They made their calls, then pocketed their phones at the exact same time. Mia sucked in one cheek. “Soon you’re going to be finishing my sentences.”
Something inside him cringed, uncomfortable at the implied intimacy. The last person who’d finished his sentences was Christine. “You get a warrant?” he asked brusquely and she blinked. Instantly he felt guilty. There was intimacy between them now, at least the physical kind. He hoped he’d read her right and she was a no-strings woman. If not, she’d be hurt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
She shrugged it off. “Patrick’s going to try for a warrant. You get Spinnelli?”
“I did. He’ll call us when the cruiser gets to Thompson’s house. He also said Jack’s on the way with a fingerprint tech and somebody to sweep for bugs.”
She frowned. “I’ve been agonizing over whether to take the staff downtown, but that would take forever. I want to talk to these people now.”
“Then we sweep and see.” He made himself smile. “Ready to go kick some Axis?”
She laughed and the sound eased him. “Let’s go.”
Secrest was waiting to escort them, a stack of files in his hands. It was the room Bixby had had them wait in -yesterday. It seemed like a million years ago.
“Please have the staff come to us one at a time,” Mia said when they’d settled in on the hard wooden chairs. “We want to talk to the people first who knew Miss Adler best.”
Secrest dropped the stack on the table. “Yes, ma’am.”
Reed winced when Secrest walked away. “Ouch.”
“Excuse me.” A man stood at the door, looking very, very pale. “You’re the detectives.” He cast a glance over his shoulder. “I need to talk to you.”
Mia looked up at Reed. “Should we wait for the sweeper?” she murmured.
“He looks nervous. You might not want to give him time to back away. Besides, if Bixby really wanted he could listen at the door even if the place is clean.”
“You’re right. We’ll keep the questions straightforward, then take anybody that sounds interesting downtown.” She nodded at the man. “I’m Detective Mitchell and this is Lieutenant Solliday. Please come in and sit down.”
“I’m Devin White.” He slid the textbook he carried to the table and sat down, his eyes shocked and grieved. “I just heard. I can’t believe it. I saw on the news that there had been a fire, but I never dreamed it could be Brooke.”
“We’re very sorry for your loss, sir,” Mia said gently. “We need to ask a few questions.”
He moved his hands nervously and glanced at the door. “Yes, yes of course.”
Reed placed his recorder on the table. “You knew Miss Adler well?”
“No. She hadn’t been here that long. I’d just gotten to know her in the last week. I mean, I’d seen her around the campus, but this week we talked for the first time.”
“How long have you taught here, Mr. White?” Mia asked.
“Five months. Since the beginning of last summer.”
“When did you see her last?”
“Last night.” He let out a sigh, then leaned forward. “Look, Detective, I have to say I’m nervous to even be talking to you at this point.” He said it under his breath.
“Why?”
“Because Brooke talked to you and now she’s dead,” he snapped. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Brooke had an argument with Bixby yesterday. I only heard the end of it, but he threatened to fire her. He demanded Brooke resign. She threatened to go to the press. She was so upset, worrying that she’d go bankrupt. I took her to Flannagan’s to calm her down. It’s a bar where a lot of us go to hang out after work.”
“When did you say good night?” Reed asked.
“Seven thirty,” he said, his voice at normal volume. “Brooke had a beer too many, so I drove her home and walked her up. Then I went straight home. Brooke said she’d have a friend drive her to work and I could take her to -Flannagan’s after school to get her car. But she didn’t show up this -morning. I thought maybe she’d folded and resigned.”
The killer hadn’t taken Brooke’s car after all, so there would be no evidence that might point to his identity should they find it. “Flannagan’s is close?” Reed asked.
“About a mile from here. She was so worried about that damn book she’d assigned. Lord of the Flies. She worried she’d pushed Manny into setting fires. He scared her.”
“Was she afraid of anybody else?” Reed asked and White shrugged.
“Jeff DeMartino gave her the shivers, but he gives everybody the shivers.”
Mia wrote down his name. “He’s a student?”
“Yeah. Smart kid. Big trouble. Julian said he was a sociopath.”
“Anybody else?” she asked.
“Bart Secrest made her nervous. But that’s all.”
“One more question.” Mia caught the man’s eyes and held them. “Where were you last night between three and four a.m.?”
He blanched. “I’m a suspect? I guess I’d have to be. I was at home. Asleep.”
“Anybody to verify that?” she asked pleasantly.
“My fiancée.”
Mia blinked at him. “But I thought you and Miss Adler...”
“Friends. I helped her out when she was scared. But there was nothing romantic.”
Mia gave him her card. “Thanks. Please call me if you remember anything else.”
White stood and tucked his book under his arm. “You’ll watch Bixby, right?” he whispered. “I never thought the man could be... evil, but now I’m not so sure.”
She didn’t respond to White’s dire assessment of Bixby. “Thank you, Mr. White. We appreciate your information.” She opened the door to find the dour-faced Marcy waiting. With a shaken sideways look, White slipped away and Marcy frowned.
“There’s a Sergeant Unger waiting outside. He says you’re expecting him.”
“Yes. Can you give us another room? Sergeant Unger will be redoing fingerprints of all staff and students.”
Marcy’s back snapped straight. “Dr. Bixby didn’t approve that.”
“Dr. Bixby doesn’t have to,” Mia told her mildly. “You are required to be fingerprinted by the state. We have -reason to believe... mistakes were made in your records. Please find the sergeant a room. He’ll need a table and an electrical outlet.”
Reed leaned back in his chair. “I think Dr. Bixby should be the first one they print.”
“I agree.” She sighed. “No wonder Bixby wanted to know what she said before she died. That was a bombshell. We’ll keep talking to the teachers while Jack gets set up.” She poked her head into the hall. “Whoever’s next, please come in.”
Thursday, November 30, 10:15 A.M.
“Please sit down Miss Kersey.” Jackie Kersey had been crying hard, her face red and puffy. “I’m Detective -Mitchell and this is my partner, Lieutenant Solliday. We’re very sorry for your loss, ma’am, but we need to ask you some questions.”
They were the same words she’d said to the math teacher, the history teacher, and the librarian they’d just finished interviewing, but in no
way did her words sound any less sincere. Kersey nodded shakily. “I’m sorry, I just can’t seem to stop crying.”
Mia squeezed her arm. “It’s okay. Now what do you teach here, Miss Kersey?”
She sniffled and drew a huge breath. “I teach geography to the middle school.”
“What can you tell us about Miss Adler?”
Jackie Kersey wrung her hands. “Brooke was young. So full of... optimism. You lose that pretty fast around here. She wanted to do the right thing, to reach these kids.”
“Any kids in particular?”
“She was worried about Manny.” She frowned. “She was afraid of Jeff.”
Four out of four teachers had mentioned this Jeff, Reed thought.
“Are you?” Mia asked softly.
“Let’s just say I’m glad he’s in lockup. When he turns eighteen I’ll say yes.”
“How well did you know Miss Adler?” Reed asked.
“About as well as anyone. She’d just started to come out of her shell. I convinced her to go to Flannagan’s after work on Monday. Devin was going, and she liked him.”
“Did he like her?” Mia murmured.
“Devin likes everybody.” She managed a watery smile. “He likes you more if he can sucker you into his football pool. But yeah, he liked her.”
“Like as in a girlfriend?”
“I saw him staring at her chest more than once, so I think he was attracted to her, but to my knowledge they didn’t see each other outside of school. Look, we all know you were here -yesterday. Somehow Brooke was involved and now she’s dead. I don’t mean to be crass, but are the rest of us in any danger?”
Mia hesitated long enough to make Jackie Kersey pale. “Don’t go anywhere alone.”
“Oh my God,” Kersey whispered. “This place is a nightmare. I knew it.”
Reed frowned. “You knew what, ma’am?”
“I came here because my old school closed and I needed a job. But it’s never felt right. I can’t tell you any more than that, because it’s only a feeling.”
Mia squeezed Kersey’s hand before giving her a business card. “Trust your instincts, Miss Kersey. That’s why you have them. To keep you alert and safe.”
When she was gone, Mia came around to Reed’s side of the table and leaned one hip against its edge. “Kersey didn’t know White had a fiancée already,” she murmured.
“I know.” Reed pulled out Kersey’s personnel file. “She’s only been here eight months.” He looked up, thoughts connecting. “Have you noticed that all the teachers in this school have been here less than two years? But the school’s been here for five. As have Bixby and Thompson. Secrest has been here four.”
“Huh.” He could see that she hadn’t thought of it but unlike earlier this morning, she wasn’t annoyed that he had first. “You’re right. Lucas, Celebrese, the history teacher, the librarian, White, Kersey, Adler. All less than two years.” She ran her thumb down the stack, counting. “About two dozen. Let’s take a look before we talk to any more teachers to see if this is true for all of them.” She gave him an impressed nod. “Nice.”
Her simple praise shouldn’t make him feel like turning cartwheels, but it did. Pushing the feeling aside, he opened the first file. “I’ll read, you write?”
She waved her pen. “Let’s roll.” They’d checked three of the files, all three staff employed less than a year, when Jack knocked on the door.
“This is Officer James. He’s here to sweep. Officer Willis is almost ready to take the prints. I just came along to make sure everything was perfect. By the frickin’ book. I don’t want to have any questions about that unmatched print when we’re done.”
Reed and Mia followed Jack to another conference room where an officer was plugging a scanner into a laptop -computer. “You’ll have to get Thompson’s print from his office,” Reed said. “He’s AWOL.”
“Interesting. I’ll take his prints and Willis can get started on the staff.”
“Did Spinnelli send the units to cover the exits?” Mia asked.
“I didn’t see them when I got here,” Jack said.
Willis looked up. “They pulled in just after me. I was a few minutes behind.”
“Willis stopped for a yellow light,” Jack sneered.
Willis gave Mia a knowing wink. “It was red. I would’ve had to give myself a citation.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Bixby stood in the doorway, glowering. “Coming in here and fingerprinting us like we’re all common criminals. This is outrageous.”
“No, it’s not,” Reed said, losing his patience. “We have four dead women in the morgue, Dr. Bixby. One is your former employee. I’d think you’d want to know who is responsible. I would think you might even be a little afraid for yourself.”
Bixby paled a shade. “Why should I be afraid for my-self?”
“I can’t imagine you have no enemies,” Reed said quietly. “So do yourself a favor and stay out of the way. Better yet, take Sergeant Unger to Dr. Thompson’s office and let him do his job.”
Bixby nodded stiffly. “This way, Sergeant.”
Mia was smiling at him. “Nice,” she said again, just as her cell phone rang. “It’s Spinnelli,” she murmured. “This is Mitchell... Uh-huh...” Her eyes widened. “Aw shit, Marc. You’re kidding.” She sighed. “Not yet. Willis is just about to start. Thanks.” She snapped her cell phone closed. “Well, looks like we found Thompson.”
Reed leaned back and looked at her frustrated face and knew. “How dead is he?”
“Very, very. Somebody slit his throat. Some guy on his way to work found him. He saw a car on the side of the road with what looked like mud caked on the windshield. The mud turned out to be blood. Car’s registered to Dr. Julian Thompson. Let’s go.”
On their way out Mia found Secrest’s office. “We need to step out for a little while.”
“Forgive me if I don’t cry,” he said sarcastically, arms crossed over his chest.
“Don’t you even want to know why?” she demanded.
“Should I?”
Mia blew out an angry breath. “Goddammit, what kind of cop were you, Secrest?”
His eyes flashed. “A former one, Detective.”
“Thompson’s dead,” she said and he flinched, then his face returned to stone.
“When? How?”
“I don’t know when and can’t tell you how,” she snapped. “While we’re gone, Sergeant Unger will fingerprint the staff and students.”
He stiffened. “Why?”
Reed cleared his throat. “Because we found a discrepancy in your records, Mr. Secrest,” he said calmly. “Your cooperation would be appreciated.”
He nodded. “Anything else, Lieutenant?” and Reed nearly winced at the civility in his voice, a marked contrast to the derisive tone he’d used with Mia.
Mia tilted her head, ignoring the slam. “Yeah. Nobody, nobody comes in or goes out of this complex. Anyone attempting to will be taken to the precinct. You’re all on -lockdown until we settle the issue of fingerprints. Are we clear, Secrest?”
“Crystal.” He bared his teeth in a parody of a smile. “Ma’am.”
“Good,” she said. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
Chapter Sixteen
Thursday, November 30, 10:55 A.M.
Hell.” Mia grimaced as she walked up to Thompson’s Saab.
It was the first word she’d said since leaving Hope -Center. He’d pissed her off, stepping in to smooth and soothe again. But they’d needed Secrest calm and Mia was not making that happen. Thoughts of Secrest vaporized when he saw -Thompson in the driver’s seat. His head lolled, like a rag doll missing stuffing. Blood was everywhere.
Gingerly Mia stuck her head in the window. “Oh God. He went all the way to bone.”
“Head’s hanging on by a patch of skin about three inches wide,” the ME tech said.
“Wonderful,” she muttered. “He’s still wearing his seat belt. Kept him upright.”
&nbs
p; The ME tech was making notes. “They say seat belts save lives. Didn’t help him.”
“That’s not funny,” Mia snapped. “Goddammit.”
The ME gave Reed an is-it-PMS look. Reed shook his head. “Don’t,” he mouthed.
“Time of death?” she demanded acidly.
“Between nine and midnight. Let me know when I can move him. I’m sorry,” he added. “Sometimes a joke’s a way to take off the edge when we find a body like this.”
Mia took a deep breath and let it out, then turned to the young ME tech with a rueful smile. She squinted to see his badge. “I’m sorry, Michaels. I’m tired and frustrated and I snapped at you.” She stuck her head back in the car. “Anybody see his keys?”
“No.” A woman with a CSU jacket rose from inspecting the other side of the car. “We haven’t touched him yet. The keys could be under him.”
Mia opened the back door on the driver’s side. “He sat back here. Grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back and slashed. Any sign of struggle or skid marks or dings on the car? Was he forced over?”
The CSU tech shook her head. “I’ve checked all around the vehicle. Not a scratch. This car was brand-new. Pretty expensive car not to steal.”
“Luxury car on a juvie salary,” Mia murmured. “Move him when you’re ready.”
The ME techs did, immobilizing Thompson’s head to keep it from completely ripping from his body. “He’s wearing a ring,” Reed noted.
Mia lifted Thompson’s hand. “Ruby. I’m betting it’s real. Not a robbery, then.”
“Did you think it was?” Reed asked and she shook her head.
“No. Wallet’s still in his back pocket. Cell phone’s in his front.” She took it out and punched buttons. “He made six calls yesterday afternoon.” Her eyes narrowed. “Four to 708-555-6756, one was to me, and one to... This is the number for Holding.” Rapidly she pulled out her own cell and dialed. “Hi, this is Detective Mitchell, Homicide department. Did a Dr. Julian Thompson visit last night?” Her brows lifted. “Thanks.”
She dropped her phone in her pocket and looked up, meeting Reed’s eyes for the first time since they’d left Hope -Center. “He visited Manny Rodriguez,” she said. “He signed out on the visitor sheet five minutes before he called my voice mail last night.”