“Yeah. I’m done screwing around with this kid.” Huck grasped his phone and called Ena, who was working the phones this weekend. “Hi. I want a team to go pick up Davie Tate and bring him in. Give him a choice. Either he’s charged with a felony and then we talk, or he comes and talks to us without being charged first. Make sure his mother is with him and that he either brings his lawyer or they waive the right to have one. Tell whoever you send to be serious and firm.” He clicked off.
Laurel nodded. “Agreed. He ticks all the boxes, but there’s still something missing.”
“Tommy is what’s missing.” Huck reached for his soda and took a gulp. Sometimes sugar helped with a headache. “Between the two of them, they’re connected to everybody. They don’t seem to do anything without each other, even getting after-school jobs. Davie slept with Tommy’s aunt, and she dumped him, and they were both probably pissed about the entire situation.”
Laurel chewed on her bottom lip. “That’s all true. The flowers hint at intimacy.” She rubbed her chin and looked at the murder boards. “But where did they acquire them?” She lifted her head to raise her voice. “Nester? What have you found out about the black dahlias?”
“Not much,” he called back. “I’ve contacted several large growing operations with greenhouses that sell them, but none of those businesses have sold the flowers to anybody in this region. Especially in the amount that the killer would’ve had to buy. I’ll keep looking, but my best bet is that they’re homegrown. Somebody has a place around here—we just haven’t found it. I’ve been doing a search of properties owned by everyone in this case, but as you know, sometimes people just rent or don’t record deeds. Nothing yet.”
Huck glanced at his phone. He had two hours before his checkup at the hospital, and his head actually did hurt, although his vision had remained clear.
Laurel rolled her neck. “I wonder if the Bearings lied to us about Tommy seeing the psychiatrist. Since Davie might’ve been seeing her, possibly Tommy was as well?”
“Perhaps. Profile Davie for me.”
She twirled a pink highlighter through her good hand. “Okay. He’s smart and angry about his situation in life, especially compared to his wealthy best friend. Davie was taken advantage of by Sharon Lamber, and he was hurt deeply by Abigail Caine when she tossed him from the study.”
“And he was seeing Dr. Rox,” Huck murmured.
“Maybe she helped him to focus his anger.”
Huck crossed his arms. “Maybe not.”
Laurel stared at the table for a moment. “I don’t know.”
“Go on.”
“There’s a sophistication to the stalking and the breaking and entering that I don’t see in Davie. He might be intelligent, but he’s still a kid.”
Huck looked at the suspect board. “What about Tommy?”
“Perhaps. He’s certainly more worldly and has a sense of entitlement that Davie lacks. Usually when there are partners in a crime, one is the dominant personality. Tommy could be that to Davie.” She tugged on the strap of the sling holding her cast. “If so, he’s very good at camouflage, which this killer would be.”
“We can bring Tommy in as well. Have them see each other?”
Laurel reached for a pencil and made a notation on a sticky note. “Let’s interview Davie first. If he sees Tommy, and if Tommy is the dominant personality, then he’ll refuse to speak. We need to hit him hard, and if his mother is with him, we’ll have a better chance of coaxing him to be honest with us.”
“Whoa,” Nester called out and the sound of his chair hitting the wall echoed. Clothing rustled and he ran to the door of the conference room. “Just got an email from the lab on the ballistics report. We have a match. The same gun that was used to shoot Walter was used to shoot at your truck the other night.”
Huck nodded. “We expected that.”
“Yes.” Nester’s eyes gleamed. “But did you expect the lab to find a fingerprint on a casing left by the shooter when Huck’s truck was ambushed?”
Laurel gasped. “No. Whose fingerprint?”
Nester slapped his hand against the doorframe. “The fingerprint belongs to one Mr. Davie Tate.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Taylor Tate had her son’s dark hair and eyes, but her build was petite. Though the woman had to be in her mid-thirties, tops, her eyes looked older. Faded lines already cascaded out from the corners, and her shoulders hunched forward just enough to show exhaustion. Even so, she sat straight and slightly ahead of her son in the white chairs around the thick glass tabletop. “My son has done nothing wrong.”
“Good.” Laurel held several file folders in front of her while Huck sat like a silent angry sentinel next to her. “Then he should have no problem speaking with us, with your permission.”
Taylor nodded and some of her dark hair escaped the bun she’d tamed it in. “He will talk to you.”
“So you waive your right to have a lawyer present?” Huck asked.
“Yes,” Davie said, staring at the table and hunching his body.
