The Running Girls(36)
“OK, go see her again. Find out what they used to get up to. See if there were any role-playing fantasies. You know the sort of thing.”
Remi looked momentarily confused before the horror of what Laurie was suggesting dawned on him. “No,” he said, swallowing. “You don’t think . . .”
“I hope not, but it’s an angle we have to look at.”
Laurie remained at her desk as Remi arranged another meeting with Natalie. She wondered if Sandra knew the age of her husband’s ex-mistresses, and what her reaction would be to the news. It wasn’t the sort of question she wanted to be asking her on any day, let alone on the very day she’d discovered her daughter had been brutally murdered.
She called Gemma Clayton, the junior detective who had been placed with the Harringtons. After checking on the parents’ well-being, Laurie suggested she prep them both for the possibility of questioning the next day.
When she closed the call, she became aware of the tension in the bullpen, her colleagues all on edge, as if desperate for her to begin interrogating Frank Randall. She checked in with the front desk, but Maurice’s legal representation had yet to arrive, so for now her hands were tied.
She took the time to revisit Annie Randall’s homicide investigation. Like Grace, Annie had died in October, the dates only eleven days apart. With the images of Grace’s stricken body still fresh in her mind, she studied the photographs of Annie Randall in detail. It soon became apparent that if Grace’s killer was a copycat, then they would have to have had intimate knowledge of the original crime scene. The bodies were laid out in nearly identical fashion, the snapped and twisted bones giving an unreal quality to the victims, who in their stillness and deformity looked like mannequins washed up on shore.
Next, Laurie looked at the postmortem report. Grace’s autopsy had been fast-tracked for tomorrow but the CSI had raised the possibility that Grace had been alive when her bones had been fractured; although Annie’s body hadn’t been found for three days, the autopsy had revealed that her bones were likely to have been broken prior, or very close, to her death.
Much more was still to be read. Witness reports and testimonies, including those from Warren Campbell and David, as well as the tapes and notes from the various interrogations of Frank Randall during the period between his arrest and eventual conviction. Like it or not, Frank Randall was the prime suspect in this new case and every detail about the old case potentially had some bearing on the current investigation.
“Laurie,” said Filmore, sticking his head out of his office door. “A word.”
Everyone’s eyes were on her as she made the short journey across the bullpen. The tension was palpable. Many of Laurie’s colleagues had children the same age or younger than Grace, and she knew they couldn’t help but put themselves in the Harringtons’ shoes. Just like the community at large, they were looking to Laurie to resolve the investigation as soon as possible, so they could return to some sort of equilibrium. Laurie sensed that pressure, and couldn’t deny that a part of her thrived on it. Even so, she resented the sight of Warren Campbell talking to Rodriquez and Abbey as if he was still the chief of police.
“Shut the door,” said Filmore.
Laurie did as instructed, sitting down without invitation. There was no point bitching about Warren being in the bullpen. The man commanded more respect than anyone in the station, the current chief included, and his legacy had been cemented by the terrible ordeal he’d endured with his daughter. Lieutenant Filmore was a good man, and a good leader. She tried to see it from his position, and decided Warren being around was a burden she could carry for now.
“The lawyer has arrived,” Filmore said. “Out-of-towner by the name of Neil Mosley. He’s been hired by the brothers Grimm and representing them both. Even tried to argue for a joint interview.”
“OK. I’ll start with Frank, then move on to Maurice. See if their stories match.”
“I have heat coming on me from everywhere, you appreciate that, Laurie?”
Laurie sat up straight, fearing that Filmore was about to take her from the investigation. “I’ve got it covered, Lieutenant.”
“A quick result would be great for everyone, get the vultures off us.”
Laurie sucked in a breath as a cramp attacked the calf muscle on her right leg. She didn’t immediately respond, waiting for Filmore to fill the gap.
Filmore appeared to study her for a time before continuing. “Of course, the most important thing is we find the right person,” he said, as if he thought she’d been testing him.
Laurie could feel her calf muscle vibrating, as if something foreign were wriggling within her veins. She waited for the pain to ease before speaking. “On that front, you should be aware that we have some information about Glen Harrington.”
“Do I want to hear this?”
“Probably not,” said Laurie, proceeding to tell the lieutenant about Harrington’s extra-marital affairs.
Filmore rubbed the stubble on his face, grimacing as if he wished he’d never let her speak. “You had any inkling of this before?”
“We knew he’d had an affair. Sandra Harrington had made that clear. No idea of the ages of his conquests.”
“This gets out, the man is going to be ruined.”
It was Laurie’s turn to pull a face. “That’s your concern?” she said, incredulous.