He gestured to his right, to the large paneled glass window. The blinds were open, and she could see the rows of cubicles she’d passed on her way to his office. “We’ve got plenty of hardworking women and men in blue who give up time with their families to hit the streets every day to keep the citizens of Sacramento safe.”
“I realize that. And I, for one, appreciate everything they do.”
His gaze was like a steel-pointed laser, burning right through her eyes. “I don’t think you do appreciate what we do here. From the beginning I think you’ve been dead set on making the department look bad.”
Her stomach roiled. “There’s nothing further from the truth.”
“Here’s some advice, advice I don’t hand out often. Quit your little reporter job and become a police officer. When you put on your uniform, you’ll see that everything changes as you mentally prepare for the day. You strap on your ballistic vest and make sure your utility belt is on good and snug. You kiss your kids and spouse goodbye, never quite sure if you’ll see them again.”
“I was only trying to help, Detective.”
“You’ve helped us enough. Stick to your newspaper stories. I’ve only put up with you out of respect for Palmer. He’s a softie. Right out of the gate, you lucked out on a case or two and made him believe you were a gifted investigator, a shining star.” He waggled a finger at her. “I think you’re good at one thing and that’s manipulating people.”
Stunned into silence, it took Sawyer a few seconds to find the strength of mind to come up for air. More than angry, she was saddened, frustrated, and disappointed. The man cared more about his ego than solving a case. Her phone buzzed. It was a text message from the PI she had contacted about the license plate number. Call me.
“I guess this is it, then,” Sawyer said, pushing herself to her feet. “Thank you for your time.”
She turned and looked at him, watched him sort through his mail, thinking she should tell him about the footprints she’d seen near the train track, how she was now certain the killer was a man, when he said, “Shut the door behind you on your way out.”
She left his office and the building knowing that she would never set foot inside that place again. What had happened to the detective to make him so damn bitter and resentful? She’d recently helped locate a missing girl and had really believed that the two of them had turned a corner and come to respect each other. But that was far from the truth. Without a “Thank you for your help” or a “Goodbye,” she’d been excused. She wondered if he would even bother to look at the flash drive.
There were good guys and there were bad guys. Sawyer decided that Detective Perez fell somewhere in between.
Once she was back inside her car, Sawyer did her best to put it all behind her. Then she gave the private investigator, Mimi Fletcher, a call, hoping she’d finally solve the mystery of who drove a green Kia Soul.
“Oh, good. Glad it’s you,” Mimi said first thing. “I don’t have long. I stepped outside for a smoke break so I could call you and let you know I have the information you asked for, but I have to get back soon. Infidelity business is booming. Everyone wants their spouse followed these days. Anyway, it’ll cost you a hundred dollars.”
Her price had doubled since they last talked. They were acquaintances more than they were friends. Using an app on her phone, Sawyer sent her the money. “Okay. The money has been transferred to your account. What do you have for me?”
Sawyer would have preferred it if Mimi texted the information to her, but that’s not how she did business. Mimi rattled off the name Lena Harris, followed by an address at Treetop Apartments in West Sacramento.
“Thank you, Mimi.”
“No problem. Got to go.”
Still sitting in her car parked outside the police station, Sawyer used her phone to do a quick internet search on Lena Harris. There were a few people with the same name, but one Lena Harris stood out: Lena Harris, thirty-six, was gang-raped at a fraternity in Chico. Lena had gone to court, naming three males. After a short trial, all three defendants were found not guilty.
Sawyer tried different search engines and specific keywords, but she couldn’t find any of the defendants’ names. Finally, she called Lexi, who answered on the first ring.
“Where are you?” Lexi asked.
“I’m sitting in my car outside the Sacramento Police Department.”
“Is it true that you were at that auto shop last night where the owner was killed?”
“It’s true,” Sawyer said.
“What were you doing there, and why the hell did you chase after a killer?”
All the fight had been sucked right out of her. “I wasn’t thinking,” Sawyer said flatly, wanting to get on with why she’d called her in the first place.
“You need to slow down and stop pretending you’re a one-man police force, or you’re going to end up dead.”
“You sound like Detective Perez.”
“Speaking of Detective Perez, what did he say about Ian Farley?”
“In a nutshell he told me to mind my own business.”
“Oh,” Lexi said. “He seemed fine with us being at the crime scene the other day.”
“It was all an act. I’m telling you . . . if looks could kill, I’d be dead.”
“Okay. So what now?”
“I’m interested in finding out more about a woman by the name of Lena Harris. She’s thirty-six now, but she was eighteen or nineteen when she was gang-raped at a fraternity party in Chico. I read that there were multiple males named as defendants. A jury found them not guilty, but I’m curious to learn their names.” Sawyer could hear the clacking of a keyboard in the background. “If you’re at your desk, I thought maybe you could use PACER or another electronic records service to see if the defendants are listed anywhere.”
“Got it.”
Before Sawyer could say, “Got what?” Lexi named all three defendants: Eddie Carter, Don Fulton, and Felix Iverson.
“Felix Iverson? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. His name is listed right here in front of me. Why? What’s going on, Sawyer?”
“I’ve got to go,” Sawyer said. “I’ll update you later.” Sawyer hung up, then drew in a breath.
Not only had Felix Iverson been a bully at the Children’s Home of Sacramento, he had also attended Chico State University long enough to go to a frat party and end up named as one of three defendants at a rape trial.
Sawyer turned on the car’s engine so she could run the air conditioner and cool off. She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel as her mind spun.
Lena Harris had to be a part of the Black Wigs group. But who was the Copycat Killer? The size-ten footprint told her it was a man. That left Jimmy Crocket and Stanley Higgins.
Sawyer grabbed her laptop from her carrying bag and looked up Lena Harris. She had two parents who had supported her throughout her courtroom ordeal, so she wasn’t an orphan and therefore had no connection that Sawyer could see to the children’s home. Lena’s connection to Felix Iverson had to be solely because of the events that took place at the fraternity house.
The bigger question was why had Lena Harris been following her?