“What else could it be?”
“Your grandparents were convinced that Nikki didn’t kill herself,” Serena said. “The fact is, from a forensic standpoint, the medical examiner couldn’t rule out the possibility that someone put the gun in your mother’s hand. My investigation declared her death a suicide, and I just want to be certain I didn’t make a mistake.”
“You didn’t.”
“Are you sure? Can you think of any reason someone might have wanted to harm your mother?”
“No.” Delaney’s voice was clipped. “No, and I hate the fact that you’re dragging me through this again. Mom killed herself. That’s what happened. You’re not helping me or her by bringing it up after all this time.”
“I respect how you feel,” Serena said.
“Then drop it. We’re done. I have to go.”
“Just one more question.”
“What is it?”
“My adopted daughter, Cat Mateo, is a freshman here, too. She tutors a boy named Zach Larsen. I understand Zach was your boyfriend at the time of your mother’s death.”
Delaney’s whole body twitched at the mention of Zach’s name. “So what?”
“Why did you and Zach break up?”
“What business is that of yours?”
“I was wondering whether it had something to do with your mother’s death.”
“It didn’t,” Delaney insisted. “Are we done? I have class now.”
“Sure. Thank you, Delaney.”
The girl hurried away in quick, nervous steps — practically running — as if she couldn’t get away fast enough. Watching her, Serena thought that the note she’d made in the file two years ago was still true.
Delaney wasn’t telling her everything.
21
Stride had sat in an interview room in police headquarters with Gavin Webster several times in the past, when Gavin was an attorney representing his clients. This time, Gavin was alone. He’d expected the man to arrive with his own attorney, but Gavin had the usual lawyer’s arrogance of thinking that the advice he gave to his clients didn’t apply to himself.
They sat on opposite sides of the table. Stride read the attorney his rights. He was taking no chances with procedure. Gavin didn’t flinch at the recital or make any effort to halt the interview.
When he was done, Stride said, “Do you want some coffee? Water?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Are you hungry?”
Gavin chuckled without humor. “If you’re trying to play the good cop, you must really think I’m guilty.”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know what to think, Gavin.”
“I already told you that I didn’t do it,” the lawyer said.
“Yes, I know that’s what you said.”
“Are you any closer to finding Chelsey? Do you have any leads?”
Stride nodded. “Actually, we do. We believe a client of yours, Hink Miller, played a role in Chelsey’s kidnapping. He may have transported her in the trunk of his Ford Taurus. There’s a scent of perfume in the back. We also found zip ties and traces of blood. We’ll be testing the blood to confirm whether the DNA matches your wife, but we think it’s likely.”
Gavin sat back in the chair as if he’d been struck. He covered his nose and mouth with his hands and breathed loudly. “Did you search Hink’s house? Did you find any evidence of where he took her?”
“There’s no sign of Chelsey on the property. So far, the only connection we’ve found is the car.”
“Do you think Chelsey’s dead?”
“We don’t know any more than what I’ve told you. But let’s talk about Hink. When’s the last time you talked to him?”
“I represented him in a case sometime last year,” Gavin said.
“Have you seen him since then?”
“I don’t think so. Not after the case wrapped up.”
“How did he happen to choose you as his attorney?”
Gavin hesitated. “A third party brought me in.”
Stride made the obvious leap. “Broadway? Did Broadway hire Hink to do security at the poker games?”
“All I can tell you is that I only represented Hink the one time last year. We’ve had no substantive communications since then. Honestly, I can’t believe he would have been involved in Chelsey’s kidnapping. Have you talked to him? Did he admit it?”
“Hink’s dead,” Stride said.
“What?”
“He was shot to death yesterday afternoon. His mother was strangled at the same time. Their bodies were found at her home south of Superior.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“Where were you yesterday afternoon, Gavin?” Stride asked. “The police were at your house, so we know you weren’t there.”
Gavin didn’t answer at first. He looked in shock. “I drove around.”
“All afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. I was in a daze.”
“Did you go to Wisconsin?”
The lawyer blinked and took a few seconds to answer. “Yes, actually, I did. I thought about going down to Rice Lake to see my parents, but I decided not to drive that far, so I turned back.”
“Did you go to the house where Hink Miller was staying?”
“Of course not. I had no idea Hink was even in Wisconsin. Last I knew, he was in Duluth. All I did was drive around by the water and then I crossed the bridge back to Minnesota. I went up the north shore for a while.”
“Did you murder Hink Miller and his mother?” Stride asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous. No, I didn’t.”
“Do you own a gun?”
Gavin’s blue eyes took on a squirrelly look. “I do.”
“What kind?”
“A 9 mm Glock.”
Stride stared back at him. “Hink was shot with a 9 mm.”
“It’s a very common gun, as you know.”
“We’d like to run ballistic tests on your Glock.”
Gavin stared back across the table, and his upper lip glistened with sweat. “Actually, my gun is missing.”
“Missing?”
“I went to look for it on Thursday night. I wanted to bring it along to the ransom drop. I didn’t know what I was dealing with, and I thought it would be safer if I was armed. But I checked our bedroom closet, which is where I always keep it, and the gun wasn’t there.”
“It didn’t occur to you to mention this before now?” Stride asked.
“In the panic of everything else, I forgot about it. All I can assume is that the kidnappers took my gun.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I have no idea.”
“How would they know you had a gun? Or where you kept it?”
“Again, I don’t know.”
Stride nodded. “Remind me how much you paid in the ransom drop.”
“One hundred thousand dollars.”
“In cash?”
“Yes.”
“In hundred-dollar bills?”
“Yes.”
“How did you transport the ransom?”
“In a red Hello Kitty backpack that the kidnappers left for me. I already told you this.”
Stride slipped a glove onto his right hand, and he leaned down to the floor and reached inside a box. Keeping it far enough away that Gavin couldn’t touch it, he held up the backpack that Lance Beaton had found in Hink Miller’s basement. “Is this the backpack?”
Gavin’s blue eyes widened. “Yes! Where did you find it?”
“Hink Miller had it.”
He shook his head. “Hink. I can’t believe this. So he really was involved. Why would he do this? It makes no sense.”
“Did you recognize Hink in the boat on Thursday night?”
“No. I told you, the man was wearing a hood.”
“But it could have been him?”
Gavin shrugged. “I suppose.”