One more phone call.
“George Kittrie.”
“This is Ellie Hatcher. We met the other night at Plug Uglies, with Peter Morse?”
“You finally dumped that kid?”
“Nope. Not yet, at least. I’m actually calling about another mutual acquaintance-Flann McIlroy?”
“I’m just giving you a hard time. Morse told me you might reach out. I think he was afraid I might tear your head off if you called without notice. Something about three girls?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve got a murder victim’s father calling the department for an update, saying McIlroy thought his daughter’s death was related to a couple of others. I figured I’d try to piece together what McIlroy was up to.”
She was walking a fine line here. She wanted to know if McIlroy had contacted Kittrie, but she didn’t want to tip him off to a story in the event that he hadn’t. The vaguer the information, and the more innocuous the request, the less likely Kittrie would go digging.
“Yeah, that rings a bell. He called, what, it must have been a few years ago-definitely after my book came out, so 2004? 2005?”
“That sounds about right,” Ellie said. She wondered if Kittrie had a regular habit of dropping references to his book.
“He wanted me to write a piece speculating a connection between three murders, all a few years apart. All the girls had been out on the town.”
“Do you have any notes?”
“Nah. It sounded like garbage at the time. The city’s a dangerous place at night, you know? And he wasn’t giving me anything to tie it all together. I realized by then that Mac wasn’t above using us. I figured he had an agenda of some kind.”
“So the club angle was the only thing tying the murders together?”
“Yeah. You know, same demographics, I guess-young women. But that was it. I’ve always been pretty cautious about what I’ll print under my byline. There was nothing to verify, so I wasn’t going to run with it.”
“Well, I can see why you’d pass. Thanks a lot for your time. I’ll get back to the victim’s dad and let him know there’s nothing new.”
“Glad to help those who protect and serve. Maybe I can hit you up for a return favor?”
Ellie had known when she called a reporter that there’d be a quid pro quo. “Yeah, shoot.”
“In the Chelsea Hart case, can you confirm that Jake Myers shaved the victim’s head?”
It felt like Kittrie had punched her in the throat. His information was not a hundred percent accurate, but it was close enough. She couldn’t remember the number of times the Wichita papers had printed something about the College Hill Strangler that may have started out as truth, but had morphed into something entirely different by the time it reached the press, like a fifth-hand message in a child’s game of Operator.
She couldn’t find words as her mind raced through Kittrie’s possible sources. She finally mustered a “No comment.” She was surprised by the force of the handset as she returned it to the carriage.
SHE WAS STILL processing Kittrie’s bombshell when Rogan showed up, a cup of Starbucks in one hand, his cell in the other.
“You seen the Lou yet?” He used his jaw to flip the phone shut.
“Huh-uh. You got a sec? We need to talk.”
“It’s gonna have to wait. Eckels just called me, pissed off about something. He wants us in his office, like, ten minutes ago.”
Rogan led the way, waving off her attempts to slow him down. He rapped his knuckles against the glass of Eckels’s closed door, then helped himself to the doorknob. Ellie caught a brief glimpse of their lieutenant speaking animatedly into his phone. He held up a hand momentarily, then gave them the all-clear.
“Ah, Rogan. I see you didn’t come alone.”
“You said it was about the Myers case. I figured you wanted me and Hatcher.”
“Sure. Why not? This is, after all, something that should definitely concern her. Have a seat.”
Rogan threw her a worried look.
“So, I got a phone call from the Public Information Office this morning,” Eckels announced. “Seems they just heard from a reporter at the Daily Post. You two know anything about this?”
“I just gave a no-comment to George Kittrie about five seconds ago.” Another worried look from Rogan. “He wanted confirmation that Myers shaved the vic’s head.”
“Shit.” Rogan bit his lower lip.
“Yeah, no shit, shit. So is one of you going to tell me why we’re losing control of this investigation?” Although the wording of the question was aimed at both of them, Ellie felt Eckels’s eyes fall directly on her. “And, by the way, the reporter who called the PIO wasn’t Kittrie, it was one Peter Morse. I want to know who let this leak.”
The insinuation was obvious. Ellie’s case. Ellie’s boyfriend. Ellie’s leak.
Before she could defend herself, Rogan was doing it for her. “Hatcher wouldn’t do that.”
One simple sentence. No hesitation in his voice. No question mark. Rogan wasn’t simply backing her up out of mandatory partner loyalty. He had no doubt at all about her innocence.
“I wouldn’t,” she confirmed. “And I didn’t.”
“Who the hell was it, then?” Eckels demanded. “Even inside the house, we kept a lid on that. It was our ace in the hole: the killer took the hair and the earrings, and that was how we’d head off a bunch of whackadoos trying to give us fake confessions.”
“With all respect, Lou,” Rogan said, “now that we’ve got Myers dead to rights, what does it really matter? The press was going to get hold of it eventually.”
“It matters because I expect my detectives to show a little discretion.”
“Maybe it was the girl’s family,” Rogan said. “They’ve been talking to the media.”
“They were using the media to put pressure on us. Telling the world that their daughter was mutilated, after we’ve already caught the guy, wouldn’t appear to fall into that game plan. Only a handful of us knew the condition of that girl’s body when she was found. And it just so happens that one of them’s boinking the very same reporter who seems to be a leg ahead of every other reporter in the city.”
Ellie wanted to tell Eckels he was out of line. That she didn’t have to sit here and take his abuse. That he wouldn’t make the same assumption if one of his male detectives was dating a female reporter.
But she knew she couldn’t do any of it. He was drawing the same inferences she would in his position. Her case. Her boyfriend. Her leak.