He blinks several times, looks up at me, then back down at the image, and asks, “Where did you get that picture?”
“We’reasking the questions,” snaps Finch.
On my phone, I change the image. “Or how ’bout this one? Is this you?”
It’s a shot of just his face, his head on a pillow next to Kara Becker.
“Look,” he says, running a hand over his scruffy beard. “We… we were seeing each other. There’s nothing wrong with it. She was an adult.”
“When did you two start ‘seeing’ each other?”
Buchanan thinks about it for several minutes. “Last fall.”
“Was Kara in your class at the time?”
He nods slowly.
I look over at Finch but say nothing, making sure my expression doesn’t change.
“Where did you get those pictures?” Buchanan asks.
“I think you know.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen those before in my life.”
“They were discovered in your home office.”
“In my—” He tries to stand again, but Finch has his hand on his shoulder before he can move. “I swear, I’ve never seen those pictures before in my life.”
I switch the photo to the one of the envelope. “Have you seen this before?”
He blinks. Leans in closer. Blinks again. “I have.”
“When?”
“When my students turn in their papers, I ask them to place them in individual envelopes.”
I stay quiet, but he’s not adding anything. “Who used bright, pink envelopes?”
“K—” He clears his throat. “Kara Becker used that type, I believe.”
“Where were you on the night of Kara Becker’s murder?”
“Home.”
I nod at Finch, who steps into the booth, then returns with a laptop. Setting it down on the table, he turns it to face the doctor. “This shot from the elevator was taken the night of the murder at approximately 10:33 p.m. We have similar footage showing you leaving the premises the same way just over an hour later.” Plenty of time.
Buchanan leans forward, watching as Finch hits Play. When he sees himself on-screen, he sits back abruptly. “I must’ve gone to see Daisy.” He looks at the video, then back at me. “I did. I remember now. I went to see Daisy. She asked me to come.”
I highly doubt that.
“We’ll be sure to ask Miss Buchanan aboutthat,” Finch says, snapping the computer shut. Taking the laptop, he returns to the confines of the booth.
“We have you there, in the building, the night of the murder. We have images of you and Miss Becker in, well, in an amorous position. Images that could harm your reputation,” I state.
“Kara and I stopped seeing each other. There was no reason for me to kill her.”
“We have Miss Becker’s journal. She mentions getting money from someone. Did she ask you for money in exchange for those images?”
