Bullard was first out of the car, leading the way into the headquarters building. Gurney recognized the aggressive stride of the kind of person who is totally energized by a crisis. As he was about to follow her through the heavy glass doors into the reception area, he caught sight of a dark SUV turning into the parking lot. The lean, expressionless face behind the wheel belonged to Agent Daker.
A reflection on the glass obscured the face of Daker’s passenger. The result was that Gurney couldn’t tell if Trout had seen him or, if he had, how unhappy it had made him.
Chapter 36
Because of the turmoil generated by the Good Shepherd’s message and the time required for the various initiatives that needed to be set in motion, their scheduled meeting began forty-five minutes late, with a rearranged agenda and burned-smelling coffee.
It was a typical windowless conference room with a pushpin cork-board affixed to one wall and a shiny whiteboard on the adjoining wall. The fluorescent lighting was both bright and bleak, a reminder of Paul Mellani’s claustrophobic office. A plain rectangular conference table with six chairs occupied most of the space. A small table with an aluminum coffee urn, Styrofoam cups, plastic spoons, powdered creamer, and a nearly empty box of sugar packets stood in a corner. It was the kind of room in which Gurney had spent countless hours, and the reaction it produced never changed. Whenever he entered a room like that, he immediately wanted to leave it.
On one side of the table sat Daker, Trout, and Holdenfield. On the opposite side sat Clegg, Bullard, and Gurney. It was an arrangement suited to confrontation. On the table in front of each of them, Bullard had placed a photocopy of the Good Shepherd’s new missive-which everyone had now read several times.
In front of Bullard herself, there was also a fat file folder-on top of which, to Gurney’s surprise, was the summary he’d e-mailed her of his thoughts regarding the original case.
Bullard was seated directly across the table from Trout, whose hands where folded before him. “I appreciate your making the trip here,” she said. “Beyond the obvious importance of this new communication, purportedly from the Good Shepherd, is there anything else top-of-mind that you’d like to address as we get started?”
Trout smiled blandly, turning his palms up in a traditional gesture of deference. “It’s your turf, Lieutenant. I’m here to listen.” Then he shot a less cordial glance at Gurney. “My only concern would be the inclusion of nonvetted personnel in an internal discussion of an investigation in progress.”
Bullard screwed up her face in bafflement. “Nonvetted?”
The bland smile returned. “Let me be more specific. I’m not referring to Mr. Gurney’s much-publicized past career in law enforcement, but to the unknown nature of his present entanglement with individuals who could become subjects of this investigation.”
“You mean Kim Corazon?”
“And her ex-boyfriend, to name just two that I’m aware of.”
Interesting that he would know about Meese, thought Gurney. Two possible sources for that: Schiff in Syracuse and Kramden, the arson man, who had asked Kim about threats and enemies. Or Trout may have started snooping into Kim’s life in other ways. But why? Another indication of his control mania? His hell-bent determination to circle the wagons?
Bullard was nodding thoughtfully, her gaze drifting to the blank whiteboard. “That’s a reasonable concern. My own position is probably less reasonable. More emotional. My feeling is that the perp is trying to push Dave Gurney away from the case, and that makes me want to pull him into it.” Suddenly there was steel in her voice and in the strong lines of her face. “See, whatever the perp is
Trout leaned back from the table. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not questioning anyone’s integrity.”
“Sorry if I missed your point. A moment ago you used the word ‘entanglement.’ In my mind that word has definite connotations. But let’s not get bogged down before we get started. My recommendation is that we review first what we know about the Blum homicide, then go on to a discussion of the message received this morning, as well as the nature of the relationship between this homicide and the murders that occurred in the spring of 2000.”
“And, of course, the jurisdictional issue,” added Trout.
“Of course. But we can address that only in light of the facts on the ground. So facts first.”
A small smile came to Gurney’s lips. The lieutenant struck him as tough, smart, clear, and practical-in the right proportions.
She continued. “Some of you may have seen the detailed CJIS Update Number Three we posted last night? In the event that you haven’t, I have copies here.” She removed several printouts from her folder and passed them around the table.
Gurney scanned quickly through his. It was a concise summary of the Blum crime-scene evidence and the preliminary forensic conclusions. He was pleased by the validation of the guesses he’d made at the site, as well as by the frowns forming on the faces of Trout and his companions.
After giving them time to absorb the information and its implications, Bullard underscored some key points, after which she asked if there were any questions.
Trout held up the CJIS report. “What significance are you attributing to this confusion over where the killer parked his car?”
“I think ‘attempted deception’ would be more accurate than ‘confusion.’ ”
“Call it whatever you like. My question is, what significance does it have?”
“By itself not much, beyond indicating a certain level of caution. But combined with the Facebook message, I’d say it indicates an attempt to create a false narrative. Like the body being moved from the upstairs room where the attack took place to the entry hall where it was found.”
Trout raised an eyebrow.
“Microscopic scrape marks from the heels of her shoes on the stair carpets, consistent with dragging,” explained Bullard. “So we were being set up to buy into a version of the crime very different from what actually occurred.”
Holdenfield spoke for the first time. “Why?”
Bullard smiled like a teacher with a student who finally asked the right question. “Well, had we swallowed the deception-the scenario of the killer pulling into the driveway, knocking on the front door, stabbing the victim when she opened it, and driving off into the night-we’d have ended up believing that the Facebook message was the victim’s and that everything in it was true, including the description of the killer’s vehicle. Plus that the killer was probably someone she didn’t know.”
Holdenfield looked honestly curious. “Why someone she didn’t know?”
“Two reasons. First, the Facebook message indicates that it wasn’t a vehicle she recognized. Second, the misleading position of the body conveys the false message that she never let him into the house-when in fact we know that she did.”
“Pretty thin evidence for any of that,” said Trout.
“We have evidence that he
That seemed to take Trout by surprise. “You’re claiming that Ruth Blum knew the Good Shepherd personally?”
“I’m claiming that certain elements of the crime scene demand we take that possibility seriously.”
Trout looked at Daker, who shrugged as though he didn’t think it mattered one way or the other. Then he looked at Holdenfield, who appeared to be thinking that it mattered a great deal.
Bullard leaned back in her chair and let the silence build before adding, “The false narrative constructed by the Good Shepherd around the Ruth Blum murder has me wondering about his original murders.”
