I located a stairwell, jogged down the narrow, concrete-encased flight, and pushed through a heavy door into the laboratory section of the building. The white walls, tiled floors, and sterility caught me off guard. I’d never been on the lower level, usually sticking to the autopsy theaters, always in and outas fast as possible. It was not a typical basement, but logically, I knew it wouldn’t be.
Various steel doors opened to several numbered laboratories, all of them with restricted access. Some were flanked with viewing windows that made me think of disaster movies and quarantine rooms. The terrifying virus that would forever alter planet Earth. Although what lay before me was not as dramatic. Steel tables, banks of computers, equipment I had no name for, and countless instruments that reminded me of an enriched version of my high school science class.
Men and women in lab coats, gloves, and other pieces of protective gear wandered within, busy doing whatever lab technicians did. The rooms must have been soundproof. Apart from the faint hum of the air filtration system, the entire subterranean area was deathly silent.
I wandered, looking for Dominique, unsure where I might find him but not wanting to call out and draw attention to myself. I suspected I wasn’t supposed to be down there, and without a key card, I couldn’t access any of the rooms.
The basement was vast; the hallways confusing.
I was about to call his cell again when he poked his head from a room farther down and beckoned me inside.
The door clicked behind me before Dominique glared disapprovingly. “Our time is limited. What took you so long?”
I held my hands up in supplication. “I’m sorry. Golding and Rue have been keeping close tabs on me, giving me endless menial tasks like I don’t know how to work an investigation. They don’t care what I have to say, and I don’t get much time to explore my own theories. I’m working on a few in the background, and my last meeting ran late. I talked to the constable who interviewed those girls a few years back. I told you about him, didn’t I?”
Dominique’s gaze flitted over my face. “Ari Yates. Why did you talk to him?”
“Because I’m more and more convinced that those girls are connected. Every theory I have is flawed in some way. Fatemeh fits but doesn’t. She’s angry enough. She hates men enough and Jesse enough and she would be more than capable, but thewhyis hazy. I don’t believe for a second that she ever let a university boy lay a hand on her. Our kills are personal. This is a vendetta. Revenge.”
“What if she was drunk or taken unaware?”
I shrugged. “It’s possible. I’m not saying it isn’t. That’s why I’m here.” I motioned to where Dominique had set up what looked to be a microscope of some kind on the table. “St. Pierre ticks boxes, too, and his alibis are wishy-washy. His daughter got caught in Jesse’s web before transferring schools. The man is burning on the inside because he doesn’t know what happened to her, and she won’t talk about it. But, on the flip side, there is something mild-mannered about him that doesn’t fit with a ruthless killer who stabs flower spikes through penises.”
I cupped the goods, cringing at the memory.
Dominique’s lopsided smile appeared briefly before he turned serious. “Don’t discount him, Kobe. You aren’t a father. You have no idea what a man would do for his daughter.”
“I know. You’re right, and I’m not. He absolutely might kill for her, but something in my gut tells me he didn’t. Rue’s getting in contact with the daughters. She thinks we might learn more if we talk to them privately.
“Then, I have a dozen college-age girls pointing fingers at Jesse, telling me they fear him. But apart from ranting over inappropriate behavior, no one has come forward with a real crime.”
I stalled and held up a hand. “No. I take that back. Jesse has crossed all kinds of lines, and Blaze did report him. Sexualassault on any level is a crime. Call it a hunch, but whatever happened to our unsub was extreme. Dark enough to mess them up and make them feel that killing was their only option.
“Any number of those students could have done this with the right motivation. I truly believe that, but I have yet to hear a cause drastic enough to have this kind of effect. Plus, all these allegations are current. Do you know what I mean?”
“No.” Dominique leaned his ass against the table, arms folded, focus astute.
I had his full attention, and it was refreshing to have someone listen to me for a change. Rue and Golding couldn’t care less about my opinions, but Dominique soaked in everything I said.
“Everyone on campus agrees that Jesse is handsy and abrupt and takes too many liberties. He’s a sexual predator. They shout it loud and clear, but no one is yelling rape, at least not loud enough to be heard.
“Look at Ford. His death doesn’t fit with the current students’ complaints. How can it? He hasn’t been a student for years. He didn’t go to parties anymore. The man was practically crippled with depression. He barely left the house unless it was to work or go to therapy. None of the girls we’ve talked to mentioned him to any real degree. We know he was an old friend of Jesse’s from when they were in their first year, but I can’t find a single person who puts them together now. So why is he dead?”
Dominique seemed to mull it over, his husky-blue eyes haunted by the reality of my theory. “So, you think this has something to do with the girl Yates dismissed three years ago?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?Shewas the one screaming rape, and no one fucking listened. I have to find her.”
Dominique stared at me long and hard, and I saw the question he wouldn’t ask. It had lived in the depths of his eyes for a while now, but he never voiced it—out of respect or concern, I still wasn’t sure.
And then what?he wanted to ask.When you find her, what will you do?I didn’t know, but if this was the act of a sixteen- or seventeen-year-old girl, one who was brutalized at age thirteen or fourteen…
Dominique’s face darkened, his words coming out clipped and angry. “Why didn’t Yates grow some fucking balls and go after Jesse when he realized he’d made a mistake and scared those kids off?”
“Apparently, he tried. He only had a first name to go on, and there are tens of thousands of students enrolled at the university every year. It was a dead end.”
“Was it? Funny howeveryoneyou’ve talked to seems to know the name Jesse. Why exactly couldn’t Yates find him? It sounds to me like he didn’t try very hard… if at all.”
I opened my mouth to respond but snapped it closed again, stunned by the bare fact I’d missed. Dominique was right. Jesse was so well-known on campus, I had yet to meet someone who hadn’t heard the name in conjunction with parties and problems. Had Yates lied to me? It made sense. It preserved an ounce of his reputation, but it certainly didn’t make it better. Was he saving face?
