“What about that man I saw you speaking with last night?” It was far too personal a question for an interrogation and probably had nothing to do with the case, but something about it rankled me, and I didn’t think it was the fact that I was maybe a little jealous.
Lena’s fingers ceased their constant motion, and she stared at me, swallowing heavily. “Just an ex. He’s been trying to get me to talk to him ever since I broke things off.”
If I were trying to get back together with my ex, I certainly wouldn’t ambush her down a dark alley like an absolute stalker, especially not after a show that had brought her such joy.
Fletcher nudged me and shot me a questioning look, not understanding where I was going with this. I didn’t either, just knew I wanted to push it a little further.
“Has he been bothering you, stalking you?”
“I’m not sure I’d say stalking,” Lena said with a short, strained laugh. “But I guess he won’t leave me alone.”
“I could do something about it for you.” I cleared my throat, well aware that I was stepping outside my professional bounds, hoping I wasn’t about to offend her. But Lena smiled and reached for my hand, halting the motion before her fingers touched mine.
“That’s very sweet, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. And it has nothing to do with Finn Wair, who is far more important than my problems with my slightly creepy ex-boyfriend.”
“Is there anything else you can think of about Finn or the man you saw with him?” Fletcher asked, saving me from any further embarrassment.
“No, but I’ve got your card,” Lena looked at me as she said this, “and I’ll call if there’s anything else.”
Fletcher and I stood to see Lena out of the interrogation room. I held the door for the other two, the babble of the station jarring after the secluded silence of the interview. A young constable approached as we were leaving, pushing a red-haired man in handcuffs in front of him.
“Are you done in there?” he asked. “Can I use it?”
“It’s all yours,” I said and stepped aside so they could enter.
“Thanks, picked this guy up for petty theft a couple of days ago, and he just won’t talk.” From how eager his voice was, it sounded like the constable’s first collar.
“Good luck with that,” I said.
Lena stared hard at the man as the constable urged him forward into the room. No doubt it was the first criminal she’d seen up close and personal. The man refused to look at any of us, just kept his eyes straight ahead as he was paraded into the room, his chin tilted up even as something cracked within his eyes.
My phone rang as we said goodbye to Lena, and I tugged it free to see Martin’s number on the caller ID. “Do you have something for me?” I said by way of greeting.
“Not really, sorry,” Martin said, and I had to close my eyes for a moment. “I can’t track down that number you gave me. It was probably a burner phone, and there are about a million Richard Smiths, but none of them is listed as previously married to an Ainslee Wair.”
“What about the alimony payments? Were you able to trace those?” I put the call on speaker so Fletcher could listen in, too.
“Unfortunately, it sounds like he always paid in cash, and the return address was always somewhere random. Usually libraries.”
“This guy sounds like a ghost,” Fletcher said. “Who needs to be that untraceable?”
“Maybe he’s into something shady,” I replied. “Martin, thanks. Talk to you later.”
“There’s one more thing,” Martin interrupted before I could hang up. “I’ve been looking at your sister’s photograph--” I quickly took the phone off speaker and stepped away from Fletcher, giving her a look that clearly said to wait, “--and it is wild, man. It’s definitely a new sighting, and I’ve started comparing it sightings and hoaxes to see if I can determine what it actually is, and--”
I quickly cut him off, jerking my hand to the side even though he was actually there to see it. “That’s great, Martin, but I don’t really want to know. Just tell me when you prove that it has nothing to do with, well, you know.”
“You should submit this to a newspaper,” Martin suggested, completely blowing past what I just said. “I bet it’d blow up.”
“I’m not doing that,” I said flatly. “Goodbye, Martin.” I hung up on him and heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose for just a moment.
“What was that about?” Fletcher asked. She cracked her gum as she put on her leather jacket.
“Absolutely nothing,” I said, closing the subject.
Fletcher shrugged, but she didn’t seem hurt by me shutting her out. “Okay. You think it’s the father?”
“Looks like it. Maybe he got fed up with the custody ruling and decided to take matters into his own hands.”
“Do you want to talk to Ms Wair again?”
I drummed my fingers against my desk and looked down at the case file where I’d dropped it on top of the keyboard when my phone rang. Finn’s picture had half fallen out of the folder, and one bright eye glittered up at me from under his red curls.
“Not yet. Let’s go talk with his friends. He might be more likely to tell them about seeing his father, especially if his mother’s as overprotective as his teacher said.”
“I’ll call ahead,” Fletcher said and flipped through her notepad until she found the information she’d taken down at the
