He’s getting more and more twitchy. Interesting. “Just want to be sure I’ve got all the information I need.”
“For what?” Dylan’s out of his seat and pounding on the table now.
Finch races to the other side of the table and places a hand on Dylan’s shoulder and neck, shouting, “Sit the fuck down.”
Dylan flops back into his chair and does that thing with his hair again. “Man, I don’t get it. What’d I do wrong?”
“You entered an apartment that’s considered a crime scene.”
“I told you. Jesus. I needed my shit.”
“Uh-huh.” I look down at the inventory sheet from Kara Becker’s apartment. “What were you looking for exactly?”
“My shit.”
“So you’ve said.” I push the sheet in front of him. “Which of these items were you looking for?”
I bet Finch a hundred bucks I knew what he was after. I’m just waiting for him to tell me he needed his bag of weed and pot paraphernalia that was sitting on Kara’s coffee table. While it’s legal in some states, Iowa isn’t one of them. Not yet, anyway.
He leans over and reads through the list. When he gets to the alphabetized M section, he looks up at me. “It’s for medicinal purposes.”
“Iowa doesn’t have medical marijuana.” We’ve got cannabidiol, but it’s only for specific diagnoses.
“Shit.” Dylan drags his hand through his hair again. Then, like a lightbulb just flashed in his head, he looks up at me and smiles. Pointing at the page, he says, “The weed wasn’t mine. It was Kara’s.”
Wow, that’s a shitty thing to do. Blame the victim. “Well, if that wasn’t it, then what ‘shit’ were you looking for?”
He glances down at the list of items from Kara Becker’s apartment. “My toiletries.”
“Uh-huh.” I push my chair back and stand. Looking at the rookie, I say, “Finch, take him back to the holding cell.”
“What!” Dylan screeches. “Why can’t I leave? I was just getting my shit.”
Ignoring him, I step out of the room and spot the captain drinking a cup of coffee and staring at the two-way glass. Once the door shuts, he smiles. “Nice job, Golden.”
I’m not sure what was so ‘nice’ about that. “I didn’t get much.”
“We now know he and Becker were friends for longer than a couple of weeks.”
Which is odd. How and why did the two of them decide to be friends? One hated Quinn, the other was obsessed with Tayler.
The captain makes a humming noise before he asks, “What would Becker get out of befriending someone like that dipshit Forrester?”
That’s an interesting question. “She hated Quinn. Quinn and Tayler are best friends. My guess? She had more plans to make Quinn’s life uncomfortable.”
“You should have asked him about that.” The captain is right.
I turn and peer through the glass, watching as Finch escorts Dylan from the room. Before I have the chance to think it through, I open the door back up. “Dylan?”
He stops and turns, anger written all over his face. “What?”
“Did Kara approach you first, or was it the other way around?”
He blinks at me.
“When you met at Cy’s for the first time. Did she approach you?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “Yeah, she did.”
