Find Her (Detective D.D. Warren #8)(59)

“She able to give you the names of some of Kristy’s college friends?”

“Yeah, and I sent some uniforms over to start on-campus interviews, with the dean of admissions, current professors, that sort of thing. But I don’t think that’s where the magic is.”

Phil paid for his second coffee. They walked together to the desk sergeant, flashing ID, getting waved through. D.D. headed for the stairwell, if only to torture her one-time squad mate further.

“Okay, so where’s the magic?” she prodded as Phil began to climb the stairs wheezily beside her.

“Kristy had a job to help with her living expenses. Part-time cocktail waitress.”

D.D. paused midstep. “Someplace near Tonic?” Devon Goulding’s bar.

“Yes. At Hashtag. Just up the street. How much do you want to bet, after hours, Goulding was known to hang out there as well?”

“Oh, you’re not getting money out of me that easily. You got detectives visiting the place and flashing photos?”

“As we speak.”

“Which would connect Devon Goulding with Kristy Kilker, who hasn’t been seen or heard from in . . .”

“Mom hasn’t gotten a call since June.”

D.D. resumed climbing. “That’s like five months ago. She really thought her daughter was still hanging out in Italy?”

“Kristy had planned to travel around on her own, after the program ended in September. The whole ‘me, my backpack, and various youth hostels’ experience. Which, by definition, would mean she wouldn’t have much money left for international calls and apparently the mom herself doesn’t care for e-mail.”

“So we have Natalie Draga, who left home a year ago, and Kristy Kilker, who’s been MIA for at least five months. Now, we know Natalie Draga actually worked at Tonic. Carol have any luck talking to the manager?”

“Yeah.” They’d rounded two flights, kept on trucking. “Manager confirmed that Natalie used to be an employee. Nine months ago, however, she stopped coming in. Never called, never showed up to collect her last paycheck. Manager still has it sitting in her personnel file.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Was Devon working there nine months ago?”

“Devon Goulding has been an employee in good standing for the past three years. Excellent bartender. Does have a tendency to flirt with customers, fellow employees, et cetera, but what are you gonna do? His looks helped draw in the crowds while deterring overly aggressive riffraff. That he could be a rapist, no way. Manager doesn’t believe it for a second.”

D.D. arched a brow.

Phil nodded. “Exactly, especially once Carol started asking about temper tantrums, rage management. Manager’s story changed. As a matter of fact, in the past year or so, Goulding’s behavior has taken a turn for the worst. In fact, he got in a fistfight with another customer several months ago. Manager had to clean it up, Goulding promised it would never happen again.”

“So Goulding’s roid rage was making itself known,” D.D. guessed. “And he now has ties with at least two missing women.”

“Yep.”

They’d finally arrived on their floor. D.D. felt energized. Phil looked like he was about to keel over.

“So what happened to them?” she asked out loud. “Kristy Kilker, Natalie Draga? Where are they now?”

Phil shrugged, his look saying what they both already knew. Most likely, they were searching for bodies, and the number of dumping options in Boston . . . Just ask Whitey Bulger. Boston was a criminal’s playground.

“Techs have seized his vehicle,” Phil said.

Which made sense. If Devon had been hauling around bodies, he’d need a private means of transport. “And if it has a navigation system . . . ,” D.D. prodded.

“We should be able to download frequently driven routes. Whatever he did, wherever he took them, chances are he’d want to visit.”

“Absolutely,” D.D. agreed. “To relive the glory, revel in his own power, all of the above. Maybe . . .” She thought of the pictures of Natalie Draga, so many photos, clearly from a man either in love or worshipping from afar. “Maybe,” she decided, “even to mourn. If Natalie was his first . . . he might not have intended to kill her. Maybe he really did just want to talk, or win her back, assuming they’d once been together. But when that didn’t work . . .”

Phil shrugged. The motives for murder were many and varied. At this point, it mattered less to the team why Devon had killed the girls and more what he’d done with them afterward. Sometimes detectives worked to put away the bad guy. And sometimes detectives worked to find closure for the families.

Speaking of which . . .

D.D. and Phil walked down the corridor to the homicide unit.

Where D.D. found Rosa Dane waiting for her, Samuel Keynes by her side.


*

ROSA WAS DEFINITELY DRESSED for comfort—yoga pants, an interesting assortment of tops that seemed to end in an oversize blue flannel shirt. Her son’s shirt? Maybe even her late husband’s, given the frayed cuffs and hem. It definitely contrasted with Keynes’s classically tailored suit.

Rosa’s face, however, was pure Flora. Or vice versa. The grim set of her lips, the hard line of her jaw. Clear gray eyes that peered straight at D.D. and didn’t flinch. Rosa’s hair was lighter, blond streaked with gray. But otherwise, she could be her daughter’s older sister.