“Axel Girard is the owner of the car that followed Christy home,” Jack said flatly.
“His wife owns the plate I saw leaving Rachel’s neighborhood,” Olivia added.
“He’s also an optometrist,” Abbott said. “And a model citizen.”
“Every victim’s eyes have been glued open,” Ian said. “Being an optometrist can’t be a coincidence. I assume he has an alibi or you would have arrested him already.”
“He had a so-so alibi for Christy, but he had a hell of an alibi for Rachel,” Noah said dryly. “As in two of our guys sitting in an unmarked car a few houses down, all night long.”
“That is a hell of an alibi,” Carleton said. “Any chance he sneaked out?”
“Possibly”-Noah shrugged-“but the timeline doesn’t work unless he drove a hundred-twenty the whole way home.”
“So where is Girard now?” Carleton asked.
“I had him brought in,” Noah said, “more for his own protection than anything else. If anything else happened, I’d know exactly where he was. But I let him go this morning. We still have a car watching his house.”
“Chat with Dr. Girard,” Abbott said. “Find out why a killer has such a hard-on for him. There has to be a connection. This guy has been too damn meticulous. If nothing else, I want to know if there’s any way Girard had access to that list. What else?”
“Dr. Donner and Jeremy Lyons,” Jack said. “We need their whereabouts. Right now they have the most access to study files.”
“You haven’t talked to them yet?” Olivia asked, surprised.
“We couldn’t find Donner,” Noah said. “He never showed up after morning classes. I met Lyons in the Deli with Eve, but when Jack and I went back to the university, he was gone, too. Then we caught wind of Axel Girard and spun our wheels for hours on him.”
“Go back today and get their alibis for Christy, Rachel, and Martha,” Abbott said. “What about your panty pervert? Taylor Kobrecki.”
“We checked with his pals,” Kane said, speaking for the first time. “He’s in the wind.”
“His LUDs show calls from Bozeman, Montana,” Olivia said, “as recently as this morning. If he’s with his cell, he couldn’t have killed Rachel. We put Bozeman on alert.”
Kane shrugged. “But it wouldn’t be the first time a perp had someone else take his cell out of area to establish an alibi.”
“I’d be surprised if he was that clever,” Carleton said. “I checked him out. High school graduate, but barely. Special needs classes, no organization. He doesn’t have the acuity to form a plan like this. I think your resources would be best used elsewhere.”
“Agreed,” Abbott said. “Anything else?”
“Maybe,” Noah said. “Usage logs from the study show another participant who went from heavy play time to nothing, overnight. Her name was Amy Millhouse.”
Jack looked perturbed. “Was?”
“Yes. She committed suicide three weeks ago.”
“We checked all the suicide reports,” Jack said. “Nothing looked like these scenes.”
“I know, that’s why I said ‘maybe.’ We should check it out.”
Abbott gave Noah a pensive look. “Do it. Then find Donner and Lyons. Check out everyone who knew about that damn list. Olivia, Kane, find out where Rachel met him last night. Somebody has seen this guy. Meet back here at five. Web, you stay.”
“I just found out about Amy,” Noah said when everyone left. “I should have told you.”
Abbott leaned back and studied him. “Why didn’t you?”
“Eve called me this morning, after I’d talked to Girard in holding. She was showing me the graphs and Millhouse’s obit when she got a text, we think from Kurt Buckland. It was a quote from the guy who assaulted her back in Chicago. She was shaken up.”
“I guess so. And?”
“And this Buckland’s been trying to pressure her to give him details on this case.” He told him about Buckland’s visit to Sal’s and the photos of him and Trina.
Abbott listened, frowning. “I’ll get somebody on it. You focus on this case. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“And next time, tell your partner about potential new victims before the group.”
Noah bristled, but nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Wednesday, February 24, 9:10 a.m.
After Winters, Eve found the shower the place to cry when people were around. The water covered the sobs and minimized eye swelling. She’d taken a lot of showers then.
Very clean, she’d been. Very clean she was now as she sat in a chair at the police department, waiting to file a complaint against Buckland. His text had shaken her badly.
“I’m Officer Michaels,” the policeman said with a kind smile. “I’ve seen you at Sal’s.”
“Bud Lite,” she said, forcing a smile of her own.
“Gotta watch that waistline,” he quipped, then sobered. “What happened last night?”
Eve told him, watching his brow crease as she related the details. “And this morning he texted me. Detective Webster has already started a trace.” She frowned at Michaels’s expression of disbelief. “You don’t believe me.”
“No, that’s not it at all. I’m just stunned. I know Kurt and this doesn’t sound like him.”
Eve tugged at her sleeve, exposing the bruise that had faded a little during the night. “He did this. And another cop, Jeff Betz, saw the whole thing.”
“Of course I believe you. I just never would have guessed it of Looey.”
Eve sat back, her own brow creased now. “Looey?”
“Yeah. That’s what some of the guys call Kurt. Don’t ask me why. Before my time.”
Looey. He was a semi-regular at Sal’s, a Michelob man who was about fifty. The Buckland she’d met wasn’t yet thirty. “What does your Kurt Buckland look like, Officer?”
Michaels put his pen down. “Why?”
“I’m wondering if we’re talking about the same man. The man who grabbed me last night was about thirty, maybe five-eleven, with brown hair and brown eyes.” She was studying Michaels’s eyes as she spoke. “Not your Kurt Buckland.”
“No.” Michaels had the same bad feeling, she could see. “Let me take your statement, Miss Wilson, then I’ll check on Kurt. I mean, Looey.”
The man who’d threatened her was not Kurt Buckland, mild-mannered Metro reporter. That made his threat all the more bizarre and terrifying. And suddenly even more personal against Noah. “Do you have a pencil and paper?”
Michaels gave them to her and quickly she sketched the man she’d seen. It wasn’t nearly the level of work she might have done before her hand was slashed six years ago, but it was a passable facsimile. “This is him,” she said. “Just in case.”
“Not bad. I’ve never seen him, but I’ll take this with me when I go see Looey.”
Wednesday, February 24, 9:40 a.m.
Noah got back to his desk to find Jack angrily throwing his own belongings in a box. “What the hell are you doing?”
Jack looked up, tight-lipped. “Moving.”
He grabbed Jack’s arm to keep him from tossing a book in the box. “Why?”
Jack faltered. “I thought… I assumed you’d be asking Abbott for a new partner.”
Noah blew out a breath. “Dammit, Jack. He was yelling at me, not you. I should have told you about Amy Millhouse, but I just found out about her this morning.” He told Jack about the latest on Kurt Buck-land. “Abbott’s gonna take care of it.”
Jack puffed out his cheeks. “Is Eve reporting him?”
“She should be doing that right now. Did you get a new cell phone?” It was an olive branch, albeit a skinny one.
“On my list to do today. There’s a store near Marshall University. I’ll get one after we talk to Donner and Lyons.” He met Noah’s eyes. “I really only had one drink, Noah.”
Noah lifted a shoulder. “Sometimes one’s all it takes. Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Jack pointed over Noah’s shoulder and Noah turned.
Eve was walking toward them. For a few seconds Noah just let himself look. Her dark eyes were shuttered and there was no sign of her little sideways smile. Something was wrong. Something new, that is. “Can you give me a minute?” he asked Jack.
“Sure. I’ll wait in the car.”
Eve nodded to Jack when he passed, then fixed her eyes on Noah’s, and he knew it wasn’t going to be good. “I just finished filing my complaint against Kurt Buckland.”