Catch Me (Detective D.D. Warren, #6)(100)

“Why?”

“You’ve already taken things this far.”

O didn’t reply, which D.D. took as answer enough.

“You want to see Charlie leave at the end of her shift, don’t you? Dig around in the snow, searching for her own weapon.”

O didn’t say anything.

“She believes she needs that gun for self-defense in a matter of hours,” D.D. stated. “What do you think she’ll do when it’s gone?”

“If she’s smart,” O said flatly. “She’ll turn herself in. We can protect her—we’ll throw her in jail. Trust me, whoever killed her BFFs will never think to look for her there.”

“Your first arrest?”

“Hardly.”

“Is it difficult, as a sex crimes detective, to consider arresting a citizen who may be doing some of the work for you?”

“Have more faith in the sex crimes unit. We can do our own work just fine.”

Given how many pedophiles D.D. hadn’t had sufficient evidence to arrest in her career, she wasn’t sure she agreed. But she finished her glass of water, then returned to the business at hand.

“Facebook posts?” she asked.

“Over a thousand friends,” O reported. “Lots of hits from Atlanta and Providence, family, friends of the victims. I can’t vet each poster—we’d need at least half a dozen bodies to manage that workload. So I’ve been skimming for odd posts, out-of-place comments. Only person of interest thus far has been Randi’s ex.”

“Isn’t he serving time in Club Fed?”

“Where apparently they have Internet access, because yes, he was one of the first friends. Posted RIP and the murder date.”

“Asshole.”

“I can stir the pot if you want…post ‘At least Randi is free from her rat bastard husband,’ something like that.”

“Do it. Be good to see what he says. Also, can you monitor any posts from Colorado?”

O wanted to know why. D.D. explained that Charlie had once worked in Arvada.

“When did the mother die again?” O asked excitedly.

“Eight years ago. Have to put together an exact time line and geography, but I believe that covers Charlene’s stint with the Arvada dispatch center.”

“How’d she die?”

“Coroner’s guess was natural causes, liver failure caused by long-term alcohol abuse, but the body had been lying in situ for some time before discovery. Makes establishing cause of death more art, less science.”

“Suffocation,” O said. “Pillow to the face, that’s what I would’ve done.”

“Kill the mom the same way she once murdered her babies? But coroner would be able to determine evidence of asphyxia: petechial hemorrhages.”

“Not if decomp was advanced enough. Like you said, more art, less science.”

“You think Charlene did it?” It was a genuine question. The coincidence of the mom dying in Colorado the same time Charlene worked there bothered D.D. And yet…“Charlie asked all the right questions when we interviewed her. Never assumed her mother was dead, asking about prison first, then a mental institute, then finally death. She even inquired about how her mother died, meaning, if Charlie did do it—tracked her mother down in Boulder, paid her a visit, pressed a pillow against her face for a full five minutes while her mother kicked and fought and struggled—she’s one hell of an actress.”

Detective O was quiet for a moment. “You still like her.”

“Like has nothing to do with it. I’m just thinking out loud. Good detectives argue. It’s the fun part of our job.”

“She grew up with a killer. Maybe watched her mother suffocate two babies. Maybe did it herself—”

“Big assumption.”

“Still, ritualistically abused. Think of the bonding that never took place. Lack of empathy. The free spirits of the world would have you believe a little bit of love eases all pain. Cops know better.”

“She claims to have loved Rosalind.”

“Didn’t make a difference. Maybe it was even baby Rosalind’s death that put her over the edge. She blew up. Fought violently with her mom, would’ve killed her if the mom hadn’t stabbed her first.”

“Another big assumption.”

“Mom exited stage right, Charlie went to the mountains of New Hampshire. New house, new rules, new stability. Maybe it worked for a bit. Until her friends scattered, and poor old Charlie was once more all alone. Maybe she decided to track her mother down, finish old business.”

“Would really like a witness, any proof at all that Charlie even knew her mom lived in Boulder.”

“Seize her computer.”

“She doesn’t have one.”

“Bet her aunt does. Bet it’s in New Hampshire. Get it, pore through old docs. There’s an e-mail somewhere, an Internet search. Always is in this day and age. Plus, bet she still has access to a computer, maybe checks out one of the laptops at the Boston Public Library and uses it to hunt pedophiles, before returning it to the help desk. Nobody lives totally off the grid, and everyone leaves tracks, as you were explaining to Neil today. We just gotta keep digging. Maybe eight years ago Charlie searched for her mom, Charlie found her mom, Charlie killed her mom. And it felt good. Justice done.”