“Mostly just embarrassed that this asshole pepper sprayed me while I was holding a gun.”
Even after getting splashed with homemade pepper spray, Rich retained his sense of humor. That was vital in police work.
He said to me, “Now I know why they make us get pepper sprayed in the Academy. It’s disorienting. But I’m glad you were there. I felt totally incapacitated.”
I glanced over at Kyle, who was handcuffed to his hospital bed rail. He was alert and responsive. In fact, we were starting to question if he’d ever actually been unconscious or had been faking it all along. The guy had proven to be an extremely smooth talker. I imagined he’d wormed his way out of many dangerous situations before. We’d arranged for a private room while the doctors decided if they needed to keep him. At least in a private room we could guard him safely.
It was a standard single-occupancy room. The smell of disinfectants and cleaners overwhelmed any other odors.
Kyle looked at me and said, “I don’t understand why I’m being treated like this.”
“You mean professionally and reasonably? Transported to the hospital and evaluated by doctors? Offered food and drink at regular intervals? I’m not sure how you expected to be treated after you ran from police, then pepper sprayed a Homicide inspector.”
Kyle was at least smart enough to know not to say anything more.
I read him his rights and went through a few administrative issues. Then I said, “Are you interested in talking to us?”
“Sure. It’s only a lousy prostitution charge.”
I couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across my face. “Is that all it is?”
CHAPTER103
WE SPENT Afew minutes talking to Kyle Anderson, laying out our evidence against him for human trafficking. We even told him about our witness, Jason Cortlandt.
Kyle let out a snort of laughter. “I’m sure Jason made it sound like a bigger operation than it is. All I do is refer girls.”
“That’s what Jason saidhedid.”
“It’s true. He referred girls to me, then I refer them to other people.”
“That’s what we’re interested in, Kyle. Tell us about these other people. Tell us about your role in the organization.”
“I just told you my role.”
“So you’re a stringer?” That was the term Alain Creasy had used.
Kyle was quick to say, “That’s exactly what I was. A stringer.”
“Who did you refer Donna Harris to?”
The name caught him completely by surprise. He lost all of his bravado. I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he took a big swallow. After too much time, he let out a weak, “I don’t think I know that name.”
“Most people called her Missy. She wanted to be a stand-up comedian. You dumped her body in the ocean.”
“I don’t think—”
“What about Tina Barnes? The poor girl you left in Golden Gate Park.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Because both of them were found murdered, with pepper-spray residue all over their faces. I’m going to bet it’s the very same sort of pepper-spray residue we’ll find in your little inhaler.” I paused and studied Kyle’s face. Sweat was building over his upper lip. “Though I guess technically it’s not an inhaler if it shoots stuff out.”
I stopped talking at that point and sat in silence. Nothing Conklin or I could say would be worse than what Kyle’s imagination was conjuring for him now.
It looked like it was working. Kyle was literally squirming in the hospital bed. After a couple of minutes, he said, “I need to use the bathroom.” There was a definite panic in his voice. “Really. I need itright now.”
Conklin guided him out of bed and cuffed his hands behind his back.
