I do my best not to smile at her statement. We don’t need it getting around that she’s staying with me. Not yet, anyway.
“What’re you talking about?” His steely gaze hits me.
He knows. But he doesn’t ask. Instead, he says, “I do know what’s good for you, Daisy. Better than anyone else.”
“Ha! That’s a joke, Dad.” Turning, Daisy starts to walk toward the house. “I’m getting my stuff.”
“No you’re not!” Dorian shouts and steps in front of her to block her path. “You’re forbidden from entering that door until you agree that staying here is the right thing to do.”
“No.” She raises her arms and shoves her father’s chest. “Fucking.” She does it again, which forces Dorian to take a step back to catch his balance. “Way.” She shoves him once again, and this time he can’t stop the momentum. He lands on his ass on the pavement.
“Daisy,” I say, approaching the pair. Placing my hand on her shoulder, I say softly, “Stop.”
Dr. Buchanan pushes himself to the side, then up on his knees until he’s standing. Pointing at his child, he shouts, “For that, I’m pressing charges.”
“Dr—”
“She assaulted me, and I’ve got about six witnesses.”
I look back at the other cops and the security company rep who just showed up. They’re all watching the scene. He’s right. He’s got six very reliable eyewitnesses.
“Do you need me to call for an ambulance?” I mean, if he’s hurt, he should be seen by first responders.
“I’ll go to my personal doctor after I fill out the paperwork.” He glares at Daisy.
Needing for Dorian to stay away from his own home, I give this a try. “Would you like to ride with me or—”
“No. I’ll meet you at the police station.” He turns to walk toward his car. Which is good except for the part where Daisy gets cuffed again.
“Gage?” she says, sounding frightened.
“I’ve got this. Just go with the patrol officer. I’ll see you at the station.” She blinks at me, and I’m afraid she’s going to cry. So, stopping in front of her, I look into her eyes. “Do you trust me?”
She thinks for a moment. “Yes.”
“Then go with the officer. I’ll see you soon.”
Everything worked better than I could have hoped. I followed Dr. Buchanan’s vehicle all the way to the police station, where he now sits in an interview room. I was able to convince him not to go back into his home until the security company and an officer had a chance to make sure everything was okay. What I actually did, though, was ask the officer to stand watch and not allow anyone besides the security company in, and to make sure all they did was punch in the code and leave.
In the meantime, Captain Billings was able to secure a search warrant. While the search team heads to Dr. Buchanan’s home, I get to be the one who tells him what’s happening.
“Dr. Buchanan?” I say, stepping into the interview room.
“It’s about damn time,” he growls. “Why does it take so damn long to press charges?”
“Well.” I pull out the chair across from him and sigh. “It looks like you’ll be here a bit longer.”
“No.” He stands. “I’ve got things to do. Papers to grade.”
All A’s, I’d bet.
“Please take a seat, Dr. Buchanan.”
He does so, albeit slowly.
“Unfortunately, I’ll need you to stay until they’re finished searching your home and vehicle.”
“My home and… what?” he shouts. “What the hell?”
Placing the warrant down in front of him, I give him the abbreviated version. “As you can see by this court document, we’re searching your home and vehicle for any articles or information related to the murder of Kara Becker.”
“The what?” Dorian jumps out of his chair again, this time reaching across the table.
That’s when Finch steps in and says, “Sit. Or I’ll cuff you to the chair.”
Buchanan sits. “What the hell’s going on?”
Just then, my phone chimes with a message from Dan. I open it to see shots of the contents of the pink envelope. They look similar to the photos we found beneath Kara’s mattress, except in these, you can see faces.
“Sir. Did you know the deceased, Kara Becker?”
“I…. She was a student of mine.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes.” He leans back, crossing his arms and taking on what I’d call defiant body language. “Of course that’s all.”
I turn my phone so he can see one of the images Dan just sent me. “Is this you, here?” I point at the image of a naked Dorian Buchanan.
He blinks several times, looks up at me, then back down at the image, and asks, “Where did you get that picture?”
“We’re asking the questions,” snaps Finch.
On my phone, I change the image. “Or how ’bout this one? Is this you?”
It’s a shot of just his face, his head on a pillow next to Kara Becker.
“Look,” he says, running a hand over his scruffy beard. “We… we were seeing each other. There’s nothing wrong with it. She was an adult.”
“When did you two start ‘seeing’ each other?”
Buchanan thinks about it for several minutes. “Last fall.”
“Was Kara in your class at the time?”
He nods slowly.
I look over at Finch but say nothing, making sure my expression doesn’t change.
“Where did you get those pictures?” Buchanan asks.
“I think you know.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen those before in my life.”
“They were discovered in your home office.”
“In my—” He tries to stand again, but Finch has his hand on his shoulder before he can move. “I swear, I’ve never seen those pictures before in my life.”
I switch the photo to the one of the envelope. “Have you seen this before?”
He blinks. Leans in closer. Blinks again. “I have.”
“When?”
“When my students turn in their papers, I ask them to place them in individual envelopes.”
I stay quiet, but he’s not adding
