Gray from her bout of food poisoning, Rue managed to drag herself into the office first thing to accompany me in the interview room. She assigned me the task of running things while she faded into the background and observed. Having proclaimed that she hadn’t eaten in two days, I suspected she was too weak and groggy for a task that required a sharp intellect.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. St. Pierre.”
“Laurent, please.”
I took him through the preliminaries, indicating that our session would be recorded, and started by confirming hiswhereabouts at the time of all four murders. His story hadn’t changed. St. Pierre had gone for drinks with a colleague on the night of Ford’s murder—which we had confirmed—and was home in bed during Jesse’s and Navid’s. No one could back up those claims since his daughters didn’t live at home, and his wife worked shift work and didn’t get in until the sun came up, long past our time frame.
The window for Malik’s murder proved trickier.
“I was with my family on Christmas Eve through Boxing Day. Both girls were home. As was my wife. My parents stayed with us, too.”
“Did you leave the house at any point?”
“I drove to Arnprior to pick up my parents on Christmas Eve. It’s roughly an hour west along the river.”
“How long were you gone?”
St. Pierre absently fingered the cut on his jaw while he thought. “I left around six thirty and got back close to nine. Might have been nine thirty.”
I jotted a note and tapped my pen on the pad of paper. “Talk to me about Jesse Vargas.”
St. Pierre made a face. “What should I say? I don’t understand what you’re looking for.”
“Last we spoke, you gave the impression he was not a person of good character. Can you elaborate on those feelings?”
“I’m not sure you can find a single person on campus, apart from his close friends, who wouldn’t agree that he was severely disturbed.”
“Are you suggesting he had a reputation?”
“Yes, but don’t get on my case about why nothing was done. Like I told you last time. It was out of my hands.”
“Your daughter, Jenny, left the university immediately after her sister graduated, isn’t that right?”
St. Pierre’s spine stiffened, and he glanced at Rue, who remained a silent observer. “She transferred to Laurier.”
“Why is that?”
“I told you. I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you. I did some research and learned that it was you who pulled strings at Laurier to get her that transfer. There must have been a reason, or else why go to such trouble?”
St. Pierre clenched his jaw. “I wanted her away from that boy.”
“That boy?”
“Jesse Vargas. Don’t play dumb. It’s why I’m here.”
“Why did you want her away from him?”
“Aren’t you paying attention? Because he preys on young, innocent women. Because no one in authority stopped him. Because he’d approached my daughter more than once, and Abigail was graduating and wouldn’t be around anymore to keep her sister safe. Jenny is soft, gullible, and shy. She was never popular in high school and didn’t understand the danger of drawing the attention of men like Jesse and his friends. She was a target.”
His chin wobbled, and he visibly strained to control it.
“Did he touch her?”
Another uncontrolled wobble. A shimmer of tears coated the surface of his eyes.
“Mr. St. Pierre?”
