Gated Prey (Eve Ronin #3)(17)

Eve looked back in the living room and saw Estelle set the phone down on the coffee table with a shaking hand.

“Alan is on the way,” Estelle said.

Eve walked over to her. “Do you have a key to Paul’s bedroom door?”

Estelle shook her head. Duncan shared a look with Eve, then went outside.

“Alan was furious about the lock.” Estelle sniffled and wiped the tears from her cheek with the back of her shaky hand. “He said it was his house, he could go in any room he wanted. But I told him to let Paul have his space. If having a lock made him feel better about being a grown man living at home, so what? What do you care what he’s doing in there?”

“Why was Paul living at home?”

“Rents are outrageous in Los Angeles and he’s had a hard time finding a decent job. He was just staying here until he got on his feet.”

Duncan came back into the house holding a small battering ram. Estelle’s eyes widened.

“What is that for?”

Eve said, “We have a warrant to search Paul’s room. We’re going to have to break the door down. You’ll be reimbursed for the damages.”

“What do you think you’re going to find in there?” Estelle asked. “An explanation?”

“Or something that will lead us to one.”

Eve and Estelle followed Duncan down the hall to the locked door. He heaved the ram where the door met the jamb, splintering the wood around the dead bolt. Estelle flinched as if she’d been slapped. The door yawned open, torn free from the jamb.

Duncan set the ram down and put on his plastic gloves.

Eve turned to Estelle and put on her gloves. “You need to stay here in the hall. You can’t go in or touch anything.”

It was still a teenager’s bedroom, frozen in time, but being occupied by an adult. A full-size bed was crammed into the tight space. The walls were adorned with posters of sports and music figures from Colter’s youth. The shelves were crammed with books assigned for high school reading, action figures and spaceship models, and a bunch of soccer trophies.

“My daughter played soccer,” Duncan said. “She was terrible. Her team ranked last in the league. But they all got trophies.”

He picked up one of the trophies and showed it to Eve. There was no championship designation, just the name of his team in the valley youth soccer league and the year that he played.

“That’s nice,” she said. “It makes everyone feel good and reminds them that it’s about sportsmanship, not winning.”

Duncan put the trophy back. “It’s touchy-feely bullshit. In my day, you got trophies for winning, not for showing up.”

“In your day, coaches didn’t give much attention to individual self-esteem.”

“Yeah, and look where it got Paul,” Duncan said.

The bed faced a large flat-screen TV that was mounted high on the wall above Paul’s old student desk, where he had a new MacBook, the latest gaming console, a few Rolex watches, a men’s gold necklace, and a pair of Gucci sunglasses. There was an iPhone charger plugged into the wall, but no phone.

Estelle gestured at everything on the desk side of the room. “Where did all that stuff come from?”

Eve glanced at her. “You never saw him bring it into the house or wear any of it?”

“Of course not. He couldn’t afford any of that.”

Duncan got on his knees, peered under the bed, and pulled out a slim box that contained porn DVDs, porn magazines, K-Y Jelly, and a hollow electronic device that looked like a flashlight missing the light and batteries. Eve didn’t want to imagine what it was used for but couldn’t stop herself from doing so anyway. Neither could Paul’s mother.

Estelle covered her mouth and turned away from the door, repulsed by what she saw, and walked away.

Eve shook her head at Duncan. “Did you have to pull out the box while she was standing there?”

Duncan shrugged. “These things happen. At least now we know he didn’t have a girlfriend.”

He pulled out another box that contained a carton of bullets and a bunch of burner phones, identical to the ones they’d found at Dalander’s house.

Eve picked up one of the Rolex watches and dangled it in front of Duncan. “Looks like Paul kept some bling for himself.”

“We can leave this for CSU to process and collect as evidence.”

“Maybe they can unlock his computer, too.”

“It’s probably full of porn,” Duncan said. “I’ll make the call.”

Eve took photos of everything so she could create a virtual tour of the room if she needed to, then went out to find Estelle Colter, who was sitting on the couch again, her back straight and stiff. She’d made herself a drink.

“We need to go,” Eve said, “but two officers will stay here and wait for the forensic team to arrive to take photos and remove evidence from your son’s room. You can’t go in until they say it’s clear.”

“But it’s our home.”

“That room is a crime scene now. I may be contacting you again with more questions. In the meantime, please feel free to call me if you have any questions or concerns.” Eve handed her a card and turned to the front door.

“What Paul did . . . what happened to him . . . it’s on the news?” Estelle asked. “Everybody already knows?”