Pretty Girls Dancing(86)

“It’s been empty for ten.” The other man frowned. “No way to get inside.”

“The woman I was meeting had access. She was the Realtor.”

“She . . . ah.” Brant mulled that over for a moment. “Well, a Realtor sells properties. Maybe you were interested in buying it. Doesn’t hurt to take a look at things, does it? Hell, I’ve driven by that place a thousand times thinking what a waste it is, sitting empty like that.”

David stared into his empty glass. “My prints will be only in the bedroom. And I know they have them on file. The police took elimination prints when Kelsey was taken. It’s only a matter of time until they start asking questions.”

“Questions you don’t have to answer.” Brant was firmly in attorney mode now. “I’m not saying you can’t talk to them. There will be details flowing in as the forensic tests are completed. But if they broach this subject, you call me.”

“I don’t want to become their focus.” He heard a sound on the street. Was Janie home? He walked across the room. Hooked a finger in the curtain to pull it back so he could look out. No. Relief filled him. He had a few more minutes, anyway. Turning back to the other man, he continued. “They’ve got a new suspect in the case. I’d just be a distraction.”

“Is this Realtor still around? In case they start asking questions?”

“No.” And he and Tiffany had been careful. That had been part of the thrill at first. The clandestine meetings. The isolated surroundings.

“So she showed you the property. Just because they don’t find prints in other rooms doesn’t mean you weren’t in them. Maybe you didn’t touch anything anywhere else. Prints get smudged. We could argue they could be all over; they just failed to find other clear matches. Hell, we don’t know that they’ll get a clear set in the bedroom.”

David had a mental picture of his body pressing against Tiffany’s, hands on the wall on either side of her head, while he pounded himself into her. Leaning over the fireplace to build a fire with wood she’d bought downtown. Shutting the door with one palm as he gazed at her naked body stretched out on the air mattress she’d carried in the trunk of her car. He didn’t respond to Brant’s words. There’d be a match. It was more than guilty conscience that made him certain of that.

“But the more I think about it, the more I think you’d be better off not to play the lawyer card if they ask about the house. Just tell them what you told me. That you looked at it a couple of times, decided not to make an offer. That should put an end to things.”

A measure of relief worked through him. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Brant drained his glass and set it on the end table next to the chair. “Does Janie know?”

David shook his head. “I have to figure out how to tell her—” His mouth clamped shut. Where the hell would he find the words?

“I could stay, if you want.”

David shook his head. “I need to do this myself. Somehow I have to find the words to explain to my daughter that her sister is dead.”





Special Agent Mark Foster

November 15

5:58 p.m.

“I know my rights.” Herb Newman was decidedly less talkative this time around. He glared at Mark balefully. “You gotta charge me, or let me go.”

“You’ve been charged, Mr. Newman.” How had the man missed that? “For trespassing and two counts of possession of an illegal substance. You’ll be arraigned tomorrow. Which makes it imperative that you be more forthcoming this time around. Because a large quantity of drugs was found in the room next to the one you used in the lake house. And under the circumstances, you’re the first we’re looking at as the owner.” There were far more serious charges pending. But that was a conversation for later.

“No way.” Newman shook his head violently. “You can’t pin that on me. I’m not the only one with a key to the place. There’s nothing to tie me to the stash. I know that much.”

“You don’t seem surprised to hear about it, though.” Mark set the file he carried on the table while he unzipped his coat. Unlike most interview rooms he’d been in, this one wasn’t freezing. He was already starting to perspire, and he’d just gotten there. “Maybe you know who it belongs to. Could be one of the other people who has a key.”

The man’s mouth twisted. “The cops had one.”

“Given to them by the Realtor so they could check on the place from time to time. Seems that it’s a magnet for parties. And apparently illegal activities.”

“I don’t know who else has keys.”

“Where did you get yours?”

The big man studied his fingernails. “Don’t recall.”

“You seem to have a problem with your memory.” Damn, it was hot in here. Mark shrugged out of his coat. Newman seemed comfortable enough, but he was dressed in a short-sleeved orange jumpsuit provided by the county. One that was a size too small. The fabric strained over the man’s girth. “You forgot to tell us that some of the pictures you took of teenage girls violated child-pornography laws.”

“Bullshit. Those pictures are artistic. And they were taken at the girls’ request.”

It was easy to lose faith in the intelligence of humanity when faced with people this dumb. “Yeah? In the recording I heard, you were the one suggesting a girl take off her clothes. We’ve got your computer, Newman. We’ve seen the pictures.” Thousands of digital files uploaded over the years. The cyber team would be able to match the most recent uploads to the SD card in the camera. Their findings had been enough to receive a warrant broadened in scope to include his car and the school, in case he’d hidden more evidence there.