Strode, sensing that any future credibility he might have was on the line, nodded.
“That sounds good,” he said quietly as he aggressively avoided making eye contact with Costabile, who was staring a hole through him.
“Great,” Ryan said, leaping on the nod and running with it. “I think I’ll ride with Mr. Vasquez on the way to the station.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Costabile said. “We don’t want to burden you with such a mundane task.”
“Oh, it’s no burden,” Ryan said with studied pleasantness. “I’d hate for him to try to hurt himself in some way and put the investigation at risk. In fact, I insist. Sergeant, I’d really appreciate if you could take the lead on heading back to the station right away and securing an interrogation room for Detective Strode and myself. I know you’ve got some pull. We’ll find a squad car for Mr. Vasquez.”
Costabile turned his dagger stare to Ryan. He seemed to be weighing whether to fight him on this. Now that the drama of the bar raid had passed, he clearly sensed that he couldn’t just throw his weight around without consequence. He opened his mouth but before he could speak, Ryan beat him to it.
“Sergeant,” he said, calmly but with finality, “I insist.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jessie had been shut out.
She sat in the Van Nuys Station bullpen waiting area, trying not to act annoyed that she had been prevented from participating in, or even observing, the interrogation of Pete Vasquez. After about an hour, Ryan emerged, looking troubled.
She stood up as he approached and was about to ask how it went when he shook his head almost imperceptibly. A few moments later Detective Strode followed him into the bullpen. Ryan turned back to the younger detective.
“I’ll check in with you first thing tomorrow, Wiley,” he said. “In the meantime, it’s on you to make sure that Vasquez doesn’t have any more unfortunate accidents. You get me?”
Strode hung his head.
“I’ll do the best I can,” he said unconvincingly.
“Listen,” Ryan warned, leaning in close and speaking quietly. “I can’t control what goes on in your house. But if anything happens to a guy who you’re asserting is a legit murder suspect while he’s in your care, it’s going to look bad for you. I get that you have to walk around on tiptoes around here. But you also have to look out for yourself. Don’t be the fall guy, you understand?”
Strode nodded, though he didn’t look like the speech had stiffened his spine that much. Ryan turned and indicated that he and Jessie should leave. As they headed for reception, Costabile walked out of the interrogation area. His eyes immediately fell on Jessie. As she walked out, she could have sworn she saw him blow her a kiss.
Once outside, they walked to Jessie’s car. Neither spoke until they were well away from the building.
“So where are we at?” she asked when they finally felt they were away from prying ears.
“Nowhere good,” Ryan said resignedly. “Despite my strenuous objections, they’re going to charge Vasquez.”
“Based on what?”
“Based on his fingerprints on Michaela’s laptop and surveillance footage of him pawning it at the shop. He also has no alibi witness for last night at the time of the murder. He claims he was drinking in a park.”
“That’s it? None of his prints at her apartment? No blood or DNA on his clothes? Nothing turned up where he lives? Just the laptop?”
“Yep,” Ryan confirmed. “To be honest, I didn’t have much of an argument to make against charging him. We don’t have any other suspects right now that are more promising than Vasquez.”
“Because no one’s looking for them,” Jessie pointed out.
“I don’t disagree. It’s clear that they want to put this thing to bed. No one was interested in hearing about the porn connection or any other possible leads. It was like a train without brakes in there.”
“Can you insist on taking over, using HSS authority?”
“I could try,” he said skeptically. “But I’m not sure I’d win that battle. The problem is that Vasquez is here now. It’s the custodial version of possession being nine-tenths of the law. Prying him loose from this place once they’ve got him will be a bureaucratic nightmare—one I’m not sure is worth fighting. We might be better off focusing our energy on other leads.”
“What other leads?” Jessie asked, frustrated.
“Look, we’ll start fresh in the morning. Maybe something will pop by then.”
Jessie nodded, trying to move past her dissatisfaction.
“I can give you a ride back to your car,” she offered, remembering that he was still parked at the Landing Strip.
“That’s okay. I’ll rideshare. You should go home and get some sleep. After all, you’re not just dealing with a murder case, you’re dealing with a teenager too.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
Ryan smiled.
“Maybe we could try for another evening together sometime soon?” he suggested. “One that won’t be interrupted by an anonymous call about a murder?”
“I’d like that,” she said. “Can you guarantee such an evening is possible?”
“In my experience, guaranteeing it jinxes it.”
“I didn’t know you were superstitious,” she teased.
“Neither did I.”
*
Jessie tried not to make a sound.
At just past 1 a.m., she put her stuff down on the kitchen counter and sneaked over to Hannah’s room to peek in. The girl seemed to be fast asleep. But just to be safe, she carefully pulled her bedroom door closed. Then she plopped down on the couch, too exhausted to move, much less change out of her clothes.
She knew she should go lie down and get a few hours of rest. But her mind was racing. All kinds of ideas and leads bounced around in her head, none of which she could pursue right now.
Michaela was only seventeen, but with two jobs, she surely had a bank account. Jessie made a note to try to access it tomorrow. She also needed to see if the girl’s phone records were ready for review yet. She worried that if Captain Decker bought the Valley Bureau claim that they had their man, he’d refuse to let her follow up on any of this.
She heard a rustling behind her and spun around on the couch to find Hannah coming out of her room.
“What are you doing up?” she whispered unnecessarily.
“I was worried about you,” Hannah said with such sincerity that it took her by surprise.
“Oh. Thanks. I’m okay; just frustrated.”
“Why?” Hannah asked, sitting down beside her on the couch. “Did the guy get away?”
“Just the opposite, actually. We caught someone. But I don’t think he’s the killer. Unfortunately, the people holding him disagree. So unless I find a new suspect, the guy may go down for this and there won’t be anything I can do about it.”
They sat there silently for a while. Eventually Hannah readjusted her legs and Jessie thought she was going to get up. Instead the girl leaned back on the couch and looked up at the ceiling.