“How did Randi and Blaine Hastings get along in high school?”
“Blaine never paid much attention to her, but he wasn’t nice to her the few times I saw them together.”
“What do you mean?”
“If we were in a group, he’d insult her or talk down to her, if he paid any attention to her at all. Then there was that thing with Ryan.”
“Ryan Tucker, her boyfriend?”
“Yeah. That was fucking awful.”
“Tell me about that.”
“They had a fight after school. I came out of the locker room after it started. But, from what I heard, Ryan accused Blaine of forcing himself on Randi.”
“Forcing himself how?”
“I’m not sure. Like I said, I wasn’t there at the start.”
“Okay, go on.”
“Someone told me that Blaine called Randi a slut and Ryan took a swing at him. Blaine is a bully, but he can back it up. I’d never want to tangle with him. Ryan could fight but he wasn’t in Blaine’s league, and Blaine beat the shit out of him. It would have gotten really bad if me and a few of the guys on the team hadn’t jumped in to stop it.
“What was worse than the beating was what Blaine did afterward. He had Ryan arrested. I mean, you don’t do that. A fight is between you and the other guy. When it’s over, that’s that. But Blaine got the cops involved. Then he got his buddies to lie about what happened, and Ryan went to juvie.”
“That’s pretty low.”
Portis nodded. “And it got worse, because Ryan committed suicide after he got out.”
“I heard that.”
“I doubt Blaine gave a shit. I had an abnormal psych class last semester. Blaine would have fit right in to our discussion of sociopaths.”
“Tell me about Randi when she was in high school.”
“She was always a little wild, always rebelling against something. She hung with the Goth crowd, smoked weed. I don’t think she was into any other drugs. If she was, it didn’t show. One thing you should know. She isn’t dumb. She never did well in school, but that’s because she never tried. But she was in a few of my classes, and I could tell she has it between the ears, even if she didn’t use what she had up there.”
“She’s in community college studying to be a nurse, so maybe she’s a late bloomer.”
“Yeah, she told me about that at the game.”
“The PSU–Oregon game?”
Dino nodded.
“Tell me about that.”
“There’s not much to tell. We got our butts kicked. But guys on our team knew a lot of the Ducks, so we were milling around on the field after the whistle blew. Randi and Annie Roche came up and we were talking, and Jerry Reyes told Randi about the party.”
“Did he mention that Blaine was going to be there?”
“Yeah, he did.”
“So, Randi and Annie knew that?”
“Yeah, probably. Annie was there, but she was talking to Nick Dominico. She had a thing for him in high school, and it looked like she was trying to rekindle the relationship.” Portis laughed. “Nick told me later that he was afraid she was going to attack him.”
“She might not have known?”
“It’s possible, but we were all just inches from each other.”
“Did you see Randi or Blaine or Annie at the party?”
“I saw them when they came in.”
“Randi says that Blaine came over to her and started talking. Then they danced. Then he asked her to go to a bedroom to make out. Does that sound right?”
Portis thought for a bit. Then he frowned. “Okay. I remember Blaine talking to someone. There was a group of people from our class. Randi and Annie came over.” Portis paused, and his brow wrinkled as he tried to remember what happened at the party. “You know, I do remember Randi and Annie looking at Blaine before they came over to our group.”
“Looking how?”
“Just looking. And they were whispering. Then they’d look over again.”
“And this was before they came over to your group?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know how Blaine and Randi got together?”
“Yeah. Blaine was talking to someone. I don’t remember who. And Randi started talking to him, which I thought was odd given the way I knew she felt about him. Then they started dancing.”
“Did you see the two of them go to the bedroom?”
“I wasn’t paying that much attention, because I was talking about the game with some friends of mine. They go to Oregon and they were razzing me.” Portis smiled. “That game will not be on my highlight reel.”
“Okay. Is there anything else you can think of that might help?”
“No, I…” Portis paused again. “There was one other thing. While Randi and Blaine were talking and dancing, Annie was watching them. This is just an impression, and it was dark and I wasn’t paying her that much attention, but I thought she looked nervous, but she also had this little grin on her face.”
“What did Annie do after that?”
“I don’t know. Like I said, I wasn’t paying that much attention. I did see Blaine leave right before the girls did.”
“How did Blaine look?”
“I can’t say.”
“And Randi and Annie?”
“You know, now that I think about it, Randi was bent over and Annie looked like she was supporting her.”
“Is there anything else you can think of that bears on the rape?”
Portis thought for a moment before shaking his head.
“Okay, well, thanks,” Jeff said as he stood up. “You’ve got my card. If you think of anything, give me a call.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Rex Kellerman’s second wife let him keep the house when she divorced him. Her dentist boyfriend had a much bigger house. Besides, the house wasn’t anything to brag about. It was just a serviceable ranch in a decent middle-class neighborhood. The nicest feature was a back patio that had a view of the mountains. The rain had let up for a few days, and the weather had been unseasonably mild. When the detectives came to arrest him, Rex was on his patio nursing a glass of Scotch.
Even those who detested Kellerman agreed that he always looked as if he had just stepped out of a men’s fashion magazine. Not today. The man Carrie Anders and Roger Dillon found on the patio sported a ragged three-day growth, unwashed hair, and was dressed in a sweatshirt, a worn T-shirt, and soiled jeans.
Kellerman had stopped shaving and showering when the fifth firm he’d interviewed with told him that they thought he was a hell of an attorney, but they just weren’t hiring. That’s when the light went on. He was persona non grata. Someone had talked. How else could you explain the lack of interest in a lawyer who, Kellerman firmly believed, was one of the best litigators in the state?
The disgraced assistant district attorney was so deep in his sea of misery that he didn’t hear the detectives approach.
“Afternoon, Rex,” Dillon said.
Kellerman wrenched sideways, startled, almost spilling his drink. When the identity of his visitors registered in his soggy consciousness, he smiled. “Hey, Rog, Carrie. Pull up a chair. Wanna drink?”
“Not right now, Rex,” Carrie answered.
“Come on.” Kellerman extended his arm and pointed toward the perpetually snowy summit of Mt. Hood. “What’s the sense of having this view if you don’t take advantage of it? Pull up a chair, let me get you a drink, and let’s enjoy the day.”
“I’d love to, Rex,” Dillon said, “but we’re here on serious business.”
“Oh? What’s up?”
Dillon held out an official document and Rex read it. Then he laughed.
“Is this a joke, Rog? Did you and Carrie cook this up?”