“I’m on it,” Doug said. “Right after I destroy this pizza.”
“We’ll find him,” Jack said. “There can’t be too many bright yellow cars driving around in a rainstorm.”
“Tamara texted and said her parents are super freaked out,” Doug said. “They want her to move out of her apartment and back home. She said they’re just scared and overreacting, but I think they’re going to call you tomorrow.”
“That’s fine,” Jack said. “Feel free to give them my cell number. How did you meet Tamara?”
“She’s part of my Dragon Wars league,” Doug said, shrugging. “She’s pretty cool.”
“And how old is Tamara?” Jack asked.
“We haven’t really talked about that,” Doug said, avoiding eye contact, but his cheeks went scarlet. “She’s doing her undergrad at KGU.”
“And let me guess,” Jack said. “You told her you’re working on your master’s degree.”
“Well, I am,” he said, tilting his chin defiantly.
“I know you are,” Jack said. “But you’re not telling the whole truth. You’re a minor. And these girls are adults. The law goes both ways, and they need to know that you’re only sixteen.”
“You don’t understand,” Doug said. “Do you know how hard it is to be my age and everyone around you all the time is at least ten years older? Girls my age are in high school. That was forever ago.”
“I do get it,” Jack said. “But you can’t go into any relationship, romantic or otherwise, by deceiving the other person. Look at it from the other way—if you were in your early twenties and you started dating a girl you thought was your age—only to discover she was sixteen. And then imagine what would happen if you added sex into mix. Things would get ugly really fast.”
I hadn’t realized Doug could get any redder, but somehow, he managed. He’d eaten all his marshmallows from the mug and went straight for the bag. “Yeah, I get it,” he said. “But it still sucks.”
“Just be you,” Jack said. “And I’m not saying you can’t go out and have fun with your friends. But truth matters. And having that kind of integrity at sixteen is going to shape the man you eventually become.”
Doug blew on his hot chocolate and said, “Yeah, yeah. I do get it. I’ll tell them the truth. I promise.”
I slipped out of the kitchen, feeling like I’d been eavesdropping on a very guy conversation, and I headed to the office. I turned on the computer and pressed the button so my previous work showed back up on the whiteboard.
I added pictures of Brian Dunnegan and Peter Trest directly below the picture of Juliet. It seemed like a lifetime ago that we’d talked with either man, though it had been less than twenty-four hours. Neither of them had an alibi for the time when Juliet was murdered.
I didn’t have a copy of the sketch Samson had made from the witness’s description, so I’d have to wait for Jack on that. But I did have the names of the four men Rick Early had given us.
I typed each of their names into the computer to run a background check, and DMV records were the first things to appear. I put four driver’s license pictures beneath the images of Brian and Peter.
Jeffrey Goldstein. Antonio Corelli. Cameron Blanchard. James Dupont.
All handsome men. Two of them married. Juliet didn’t seem to mind where her lovers came from or if they were attached. According to Trest, her philosophy was to move on when she got bored. But not from her husband. Just from her lovers.
I made a note to call Rick Early in the morning and ask who her lover was just before Trest.
Jack came in carrying two plates that had a couple of slices of pizza on them in one hand, and two bottles of beer in the other.
“My hero,” I said. “I’m starving.”
“You sound like Doug.”
“How is he?” I asked.
“He’ll be all right,” Jack said. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders, and he wants to do the right thing. If more people wanted to do the right thing then we’d have a lot less work to do.”
“Very true,” I said, taking the plate from him and pushing over so we could both sit behind the desk. “Do you have Samson’s sketch? I want to do a comparison.”
Jack opened his laptop and logged in, and a couple of minutes later the sketch appeared on the whiteboard.
“Wow,” I said. “That’s underwhelming.”
“I know,” Jack said, taking a bite of pizza. “He could be anyone. Nondescript features.”
He typed with one hand another set of commands and the security camera footage appeared next to the sketch.
“I’d guess the mustache is a fake,” Jack said. “It’s too memorable. The top hat is hiding the brow and eye line, and his hair is covering the top of the ears. He’s probably wearing a wig too.”
“We need to find a motive,” I said.
“I’m going to start getting warrants in the morning,” Jack said. “Between the baby and a divorce settlement, the men in her life have plenty of motive. It’s just narrowing it down.”
“I guess there’s nothing more we can do here tonight,” I said.
“We can get some sleep,” Jack said. “Sometimes there’s nothing you can do but wait for daylight.”
“I’m not tired,” I said, looking at my empty plate.
Jack pulled me from my chair and into his lap. “I can probably find something to help with that.”
Chapter Nine
“I’m really tired of the rain,” I said, cracking open an eye and staring at the droplets sliding down the big picture windows in our bedroom. “Everything is damp. I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire house just floated away down the Potomac.”
“Feeling dramatic this morning?” Jack asked. He was snuggled in behind me and his arm was around my waist. It was rare he wasn’t up before me.
“Maybe a little,” I said. “I’m trying it out to see if it will stick.”
“That’s very theatrical of you.”
“It’s going around,” I said, thinking of Juliet Dunnegan. “You being lazy this morning?”
“Maybe a little,” he said, making me grin. “Someone kept me up past my bedtime last night.”
“Sounds like you should be grateful,” I said, laughing as his fingers found my ribs. “What time is it?”
“Much too late for what you’re thinking,” Jack said, nipping my ear playfully. “But I’ll go start the coffee and then I’ll meet you in the shower. Maybe we can multitask.”
“I like multitasking,” I said, tossing back the covers. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“I like it when you’re feeling dramatic,” he said, jumping out of bed and pulling on a pair of sweatpants.
“Better hurry,” I said, waggling my eyebrows and giving my hips a little extra twitch as I walked into the bathroom. “I might start without you.”
“You’ve got a full day today,” Jack said, standing over the frying pan. The smell of scrambled eggs and cheese permeated the air, and Jack expertly poured everything onto tortillas for breakfast burritos.