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Saturday, April 9, 12:10 p.m.
Kit’s heart sank when she walked into the bullpen. Navarro and his boss were in his office, both smiling jovially.
“Don’t you dare,” Baz muttered.
She looked at him, more than a little hurt. “Dare what?”
“Tell them you think that it’s a mistake. We found the confession. We found the cuffs and the paint. He’s dead. He did it and he’s dead.”
She drew a quiet breath. “I’ll do my goddamn job, Baz. Just like you taught me.” Then she marched up to Navarro’s office, Baz sputtering behind her.
“Kit,” Baz hissed.
“I’m going to give him the facts. Then it’s his choice. Okay?”
Which wasn’t true. If Navarro dismissed her concerns, she’d still have them. She’d still poke around for answers. She rapped on Navarro’s door and he waved them in.
“McKittrick, Constantine, come in,” he said with a huge smile. “This is a good day.”
“Yes, sir,” Kit said respectfully.
Navarro’s smile faltered. “What happened?”
Suddenly both men’s gazes were locked on her and Baz.
“Nothing,” Baz stated firmly. “Colton Driscoll has been transported to the morgue and CSU is finishing up at his home. We’ve confirmed Dr.Reeves’s story and he’s been released. Just as we told you, sir.”
“Then why do you look like you just sucked a lemon, McKittrick?” Navarro demanded.
Kit squared her shoulders and purposely did not look at Baz. “There are a few details that don’t add up, sir.”
Navarro sat on the corner of his desk. “Something other than the confession letter saying five and not six victims?”
Kit nodded, because she’d already told him about her concerns, but she needed to be sure that he’d heard her. “Mainly that. I’m also suspicious of his shoes. They were brand new when most of the shoes in his closet were worn. And they just happen to be the same shoe that made the print we found near Jaelyn Watts’s grave.”
“It’s a common shoe, Kit,” Navarro said, frowning. “We’ve all agreed to that.”
Yes, they had, but she still couldn’t shake the fact that they were the same shoes that Sam Reeves had also worn to the park. Was that merely a coincidence?
“What else, Detective?” the captain asked. He was a sharp-eyed man with a near-perpetual scowl. But Kit knew that he was a kind man, deep down.
“Why today? Why did he kill himself today? Did he know that he was about to be caught? And if he did, how did he know? How did he know that we’d found five bodies and not four? Did he visit the crime scene? Is that how he knew? We’ve kept the discovery of Jaelyn’s body under wraps.”
The men looked at each other, then at Baz.
Kit finally glanced at her partner. His jaw was tight and his cheeks flushed, whether from anger, embarrassment, or fatigue, Kit wasn’t sure. Probably a combination.
“Enough people knew about the fifth body,” Baz gritted out. “It might have gotten out. Or maybe he didn’t know about Jaelyn, and the fifth victim he referred to was Cecilia Sheppard.”
“Either of those could be true.” Kit hesitated, then asked the question that had been bothering her the most. “But if Jaelyn’s murder was leaked, is it possible that the cuffs and pink spray paint were leaked, too?”
The captain’s scowl grew. “Are you suggesting that Driscoll is innocent?”
“No,” she said firmly. “He knew about the victims, but according to Dr.Reeves, he was a pathological liar, so who knows exactly what he knew and when he knew it? He talked about the final victim—the sixth victim—like she was still alive, even though she went missing eight months ago. I’m not saying that he isn’t guilty. I’m saying that a few things don’t add up and I’d like to make sure we haven’t missed anything before we celebrate.”
“Like?” Navarro asked.
“Like how did he lure his victims? He admitted to five. We know there might have been six, if we include Cecilia Sheppard. He’s killed young women for at least seventeen years. Maybe twenty. Four of the five victims we found were accidental discoveries. There have to be more. Who are they? Where did he kill them? Where are they buried? Why did he choose the parks? And how did he manage to bury people in parks where so many people walked? I have questions.”
