Kevin laughed. She’d done weirder things in the name of clearing a case, but she cringed at the thought of putting her bare feet into the creek water. It churned, thick and brown, rushing and gurgling over the wall. Its murky depths gave nothing away. She rolled up her pant legs, stood and shrugged off her jacket, handing it to Kevin, together with her shoulder holster and gun. He didn’t even bother to contain his smirk. As she set one bare foot onto the wall, Trent rolled up his shirtsleeves as far as they’d go, revealing thick, muscular forearms with tattoos she couldn’t make out.
The water wasn’t as cold as she’d expected, but she winced as she felt the slimy coating of sludge that lived on the wall. It was easily a foot wide, so she was able to keep her balance without much trouble. Standing next to Trent, she realized he wasn’t much taller than she. He was short and stocky, but given his thick arms and broad chest, he took care of himself.
He smiled at her and extended a hand. Close up, she could see that one of his tattoos was a large dragon, its tail wrapping around his forearm. His other arm was tattooed with a pattern of spiked lines and what looked like thorns. “Trent Razmus,” he said.
Jocelyn shook his hand and tried to muster a return smile. “Jocelyn Rush.”
“Sorry about this,” he said, indicating the creek all around them. “I didn’t actually expect to find it.”
Jocelyn looked over the wall. Below it was a small outcropping of rocks jutting out from the rushing water. Trent pointed to a crease between two jagged peaks. The gleaming black handle of a pistol protruded from the leaves, sticks, and other debris that had collected between the wall and the rocks.
“Road rage case,” Trent explained. “You heard about that guy who got shot on the expressway last week?”
“Sure, it was all over the news. Heard you got the shooter.”
“Got a confession too. Guy used to fish back here. Said he tossed the gun into the creek. Right by this wall. First I thought he was bullshitting me, but here I am and there it is.”
Jocelyn nodded. “You know you’re not getting that without getting wet, right?”
Trent laughed heartily. “Yeah, I know. I just need you to anchor me. Hold onto my belt while I reach down there, so I don’t fall and crack my head open.”
“I’ll try.”
He pulled a pair of vinyl gloves from his pocket and pulled them on. Then he turned his back to her and knelt carefully on the wall. Jocelyn wished she had something to hold onto, but they were smack in the middle of the creek. If they tumbled off the wall, it wouldn’t kill them, but landing on the rocks below would definitely cause a fracture or two. She planted her feet shoulder-width apart, bent her knees slightly, and held tight to Trent’s belt as he reached into the crevice.
It took several tries, but he came up with the gun. He held it gingerly with his thumb and forefinger. She helped him to his feet. The front of his shirt and pants were completely soaked. “Your clothes are ruined,” Jocelyn said.
Trent grinned, holding the gun up as though he’d just caught a prize trout. “You know this guy who got killed had a ten-year-old son?”
Jocelyn swallowed. “Yeah, they said that on the news.”
He took his eyes off the gun to meet hers. “Worth it.”
Jocelyn couldn’t argue with that. They made their way carefully back to the shore. Trent grabbed his jacket from the tree limb, pulled a small brown paper bag out of the pocket and dropped the gun into it. After tucking the bag back into his jacket pocket and removing his gloves, he sat beside Jocelyn on a large stone, and they started putting their socks and shoes back on. Trent glanced up at Kevin. After they made introductions, Trent turned back to Jocelyn. “Knox didn’t come?”
Jocelyn struggled to pull her socks over her wet feet. She thought of how Olivia always complained that her pajamas were too tight whenever she tried pulling them on after bath time without properly drying her skin. Jocelyn swallowed the smile that instantly came to her face and looked at Trent. “He wasn’t feeling so hot. Did he tell you about his . . . illness?”
Trent nodded. “He told me he was dying.”
“You and Knox go back aways?” Kevin asked.
“You could say that.”
Jocelyn got both socks and shoes on. She’d have to stop at home to wash her feet later. “Are you familiar with the Sydney Adams case?” she asked Trent.
“The Adams case is Knox’s baby. He’s never given up on that one. Yeah, I know all about it. He told me about the new photos they found in Syd’s old room. Nothing I can do with them though.”
“Do you think that Cash Rigo did it?”
Trent stood and brushed off his pants. “Knox was a good cop and a great detective. I’ve never known him to be wrong. So if he thinks Cash Rigo did it, then I’m sure he did.”
An awkward silence ensued. Jocelyn stood up and took her jacket back from Kevin. Trent said, “You’re not convinced.”
“No,” Jocelyn admitted. “I’m not one hundred percent on this one. It looks too much like a random shooting.”
“Okay, okay. That’s fair, but if I’m advocating for Knox, I have to tell you that my man, Knox, sees things other people don’t. He’s all about the details.”
Jocelyn exchanged a look with Kevin. She could practically hear his thoughts: Is this guy going to tell us how Knox sees dead people next?
She looked back at Trent, and her mind flashed on the crime scene photos. “The shorts and underwear over Sydney’s head.”
Trent smiled again. “You got it. Knox thinks that shows remorse or even guilt. The killer shot her from behind. She never saw him. Why go to the trouble of taking off her panties and shorts and staging the scene if you’re trying to make it look like a random shooting? Rigo felt guilty. Even in death he didn’t want her to see him, so he covered her head and face. That’s a public place, and there’s a high risk of being seen committing the crime. Why would Rigo take such a risk? His guilt was eating him alive. I’ll get you all the interview transcripts we have—if you want. I mean I’ll work with you if you think you can do something with this. You can read the transcripts. You’ll see that every person we talked to who knew Sydney and Rigo said he was a broken man after her murder.”
Jocelyn blew out a breath. “He could have just been broken up because he lost a great student who he’d been fucking around with. I mean any misogynist psychopath with a gun could have shot this girl in the back and placed her undergarments on her head as a form of humiliation. Maybe the killer was going to rape her but didn’t have time. Maybe the panties over the head is part of his ritual.”
She stopped talking when she realized that both men were staring at her hands. She looked down to see that she’d been unconsciously stroking the scar on her left hand with the fingers of her right. She jammed her hands into her jacket pockets. “These sickos have rituals sometimes, that’s all I’m saying. Did you check for sexual assaults or murders before Sydney’s where the victims’ heads were covered?”
Trent was looking at her as if she was a spooked rabbit. She hated that look. “Yes,” he said softly. “Knox did. He didn’t come up with anything. Come on up to my car. There’s something I want to show you.”
Chapter 10
October 18, 2014