Dominique was right. It was a ridiculous endeavor, and I’d wasted a lot of hours for pitiful results.
I thanked Yates, unsure what I planned to do with the data. “You working tonight?” I absently asked.
“Nah, just got off. I get the pleasure of the morning shift and tagging everyone who decided to drive home still drunk after a night of regrets. At least I’ll be on my own.”
“No partner?”
“Is there a single senior officer working tomorrow?”
I chuckled. “No.”
We exchanged goodbyes, but as Yates wandered off, Dominique’s comment from the other day returned to me. “Hey, Ari. Hang on.”
He spun but didn’t approach the desk again.
I scanned the bullpen. A few random officers worked quietly behind their desks, but no one seemed to be paying us any attention.
“You mentioned searching for Jesse on the day after talking to these girls.” I tapped the folder he’d given me.
“Yeah.” He tucked his thumbs in his belt loops and rocked on his feet, shoulders near his ears as he scanned the room, seeming uncomfortable. “I felt terrible. I shouldn’t have said what I said. It wasn’t professional. I thought if I could find him…”
“But you couldn’t?”
Yates looked around again. His body language conveyed wariness. Having this discussion within earshot of other officers was clearly not something he wanted to do. He approached the desk and lowered his voice. “I asked around. Even went to the admin building, but without a last name…” He shrugged. “What was I supposed to do?”
“Did you mention to anyone why you were looking for a guy named Jesse, or did you rely on a physical description?”
Yates’s forehead pleated. “Why are you asking?”
I stared but didn’t elaborate.
“I don’t remember. I think I mentioned a party and said he might have been troubling some girls.” Another shrug. “It was a long time ago.”
“And no one knew who you were talking about?”
“No.” Yates’s discomfort mounted. Before I could call him on it, he grew angry. “What are you implying? That I didn’t look? I made a mistake, Haven, and I have been living with it for years. When my daughter was born… it all came back. If something like that ever happened to her…” He shook his head. “I pray every day for forgiveness.”
Unsure how to respond, I offered what I hoped was a commiserative smile.
Yates glanced at the folder and backed up a step. “I hope that helps with whatever you’re doing.”
He turned and left.
I stared after him for a long time before opening the folder and reading the entire report, including the bits he’d added, with more attention to detail than I had the previous time.
One thing stood out that hadn’t before. According to Yates, he had insisted numerous times that the girls go to the hospital. His parting words were to suggest they at least visit a local clinic to be tested for STIs. Had that been done? Did they listen? If so, was this the connection to Navid?
Did a callous, indifferent, negligent doctor brush them aside?
Could this be a way of finding them? A health card was required to be treated. Patients were logged in at triage. Even if the girls departed at some point, there would be a record of a visit. But I didn’t have names.
“Goddammit.”
I glanced at the clock. It was after seven on New Year’s Eve. Clinics would be closed, and although the hospital was always open, I wouldn’t get anywhere without a warrant to view records.
Did I have enough for a warrant? Maybe. It would take some convincing. Whether Rue or Golding would agree with my suspicions was another story. But they weren’t the ones who signed warrants. I’d learned as a kid that it was better to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.
I spent the next half hour writing up a warrant with reasonable grounds to back up my claim that our serial murders could have been committed by one or both of these unknown women, whose undocumented rape came to light by an officer who heard the story three years ago and failed to make a report. It might get Yates in trouble, or a judge might say the lack of an official statement meant there was nothing that could be done.
