Katie got back in the sedan. “Can you believe this? He was a stickler about taking notes to almost a fault.”
“I’m surprised he remembered those files,” said McGaven. “And I do wish he’d remembered them earlier.”
“I know. It’s sad when the memory works against us.” She felt sorry for the old man.
McGaven took the notebook and began skimming the pages as Katie drove out of the senior living parking lot.
“What’s it say?” she said.
“He recorded everything. When Griffin came in, what he was wearing, how he acted, what he said in the report…”
Katie was surprised. “Maybe it was how he could remember everything?”
“I guess.” He skimmed another couple of pages. “Wait. Here’s something. Griffin stated that he was worried about something happening to his son, Junior.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. I think Ventura was just chronicling everything as a way of not missing anything.”
“He could have recorded it?” she said.
“I think that defeats the purpose because he couldn’t give his impression of what he saw and heard.”
McGaven’s phone buzzed. “A text from Hamilton. He wants us to meet him at 1:30 in the conference room.”
“Good news?” she said.
“I don’t know.”
FORTY-NINE
Wednesday 1320 hours
Katie and McGaven arrived back at the department early and decided to wait in the conference room on the second floor. The room was large and the table could easily accommodate fifteen to twenty people if necessary. There were two large chalkboards and a wall of shelves that housed all the state penal codes, practice exams for the sergeant and lieutenant’s tests, and various law enforcement history and criminal justice volumes.
Katie looked at her phone and saw a short text from John. It just read:Thinking of you…She smiled.
“What?” said McGaven.
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing. You’re smiling for no reason.”
She shrugged.
“Oh, I get it,” he said, making a soft kissing sound.
Katie stared at her juvenile partner.
“What?” he said. “Just trying to keep everything light.”
The door opened and Detective Hamilton stepped inside, carrying a notepad and file with paperwork. He was aserious-looking detective, early forties, dark sparse hair, and he moved with purpose as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Katie and Hamilton had a rough beginning working with one another, but they worked through it. Still, at times, there was some unrest from the detective.
“Hey, Detective,” said McGaven.
Katie nodded her greeting. She was more interested in knowing what they had found out from Grand’s home.
Hamilton sat down across from Katie and McGaven. He shuffled papers, putting things in order. Katie wasn’t sure if he was picky about his notes or if he was being dramatic.
