One of those was the cell Candace Kierstead had employed to communicate with Richard Gurnsey. Their correspondence consisted of texts that grew increasingly explicit over the five months Candace and Gurnsey had cohabited. Some of their sessions had taken place in hotels and parks, others in Candace’s marital bed with Sig watching and masturbating appreciatively.
In a Conrock desk drawer, Alicia found papers documenting the transfer of ownership, a week prior to the murders, of two dogs from the high-kill animal shelter in Riverside. The recipient:S. Smith.The handwriting was a match to Candace’s.
A pair of pit bull mixes, one male, one female, estimated to be three and five years old, respectively.
Picked up as strays, they’d never been named.
—
No communication was found between Richard Gurnsey and Medina Okash, and Sean had found little of interest in the five-hundred-square-foot apartment. The exception was a dozen explicit videos downloaded from the internet and saved on a laptop Okash kept on a kitchen counter.
Erotica of a single theme: threesomes featuring two women and one man.
Sean told me about it in my office. Blushing, his freckles receding as the surrounding skin reddened. For all the things he’s seen, there’s always been an innocence about him.
He turned to religion years ago. That and the comfort he finds in family and clarity of values generally help him maintain a cheerful outlook. But even structure and support can fall short when you’ve come inches from dying terribly.
I waited awhile before suggesting he come by to talk. Prepared with an explanation but he said, “Sure, Doc,” and didn’t ask for clarification.
He arrived dressed for work, in a blue suit, white shirt, tie, and the usual Doc Martens. The tie, patterned with Fender Precision Basses.
He doesn’t drink coffee so I’d set out a bottle of water.
He said, “Thanks, Doc,” and drank. “So what’s up?”
I said, “You’d know better than me.”
He looked around the office. “I’m always impressed when I come here how quiet it is. Must be nice.”
“It is.”
“So,” he said.
“So,” I said.
“First can I tell you what I found in Okash’s place? The only thing really.”
You’re not a child. Then again, maybe part of you is, given what you’ve been through.
I said, “Of course.”
He finished the bottle. The blushing began. “It’s not going to be in the book, Loot says the brass don’t want it there, there’s enough going on without feeding the wolves.”
“Makes sense.”
“I guess…okay, let me tell you about her laptop.”
When he finished, I said, “Consistent theme.”
“Exactly, Doc. Maybe it isn’t evidence, but I’m thinking it’s still psychologically meaningful. Like once they found out about her…about what she liked, they could set her up. For what happened. At the party.”
“That makes sense, Sean.”
“Does it? Great.” He ran his fingers through the ginger thatch atop his head. “I always like when I get it right.”
I said, “You don’t need me to tell you.”
“I don’t?”
