“He’s crawled under a rock and is planning his next move.”
Andrews shrugged. “Give me his basic data. I’ll search for him.”
“How?” Tessa asked.
“Most of us leave a digital trail. If he has one, I’ll find him.”
“There have been no hits on his credit card,” Dakota said.
Andrews absently rubbed the back of his hand. “Let me look. Anyone else you remember from the event that struck you as odd, Dr.McGowan?”
“I remember very little. I was still recovering after the accident and was moving slow,” she said.
“Given Sharp’s theory about the Dillon boy’s connection to Diane Richardson’s death, it’s logical to assume the boy’s killer would be present at his funeral. Will you be attending his funeral?” Andrews asked.
“Yes,” Dakota said. “It’s tomorrow at ten at DeLuca’s Funeral Home.”
“Send me the guest book as soon as the funeral is finished,” Andrews said. “I want to cross-check.”
“Assuming the killer signed the book before,” Tessa said.
“He signed it,” Dakota added. “This guy has displayed his work twice, and he wants credit for it. I’d bet money he derives satisfaction watching a roomful of people mourn the person he killed. It’s his version of an art exhibit.”
“That’s so demented,” Tessa said.
“No argument there,” Dakota said.
“I’ve also scanned for crimes involving facial tattoos and women,” Andrews said.
“Any hits?” Tessa asked.
“None yet,” Andrews said. “But it’s only been a few hours. I’ll keep you posted.”
He stared at Tessa a moment, then shifted topics. “I dug deeper into Knox’s past since we last spoke. His son who drowned had a juvenile record. Knox did a good job of covering up his son’s troubles, but I was able to access records. The kid liked to set fires.”
“Fires,” Dakota said. “What did the Knox kid set fire to?”
“Trash cans in his backyard. But what landed the kid in real trouble was a fire in his neighbor’s backyard. Incinerated a toolshed filled with gasoline and the neighbor’s dog. Caused quite an explosion. Knox paid the damages, lost the police report, and that was the end of the matter. The boy drowned a month later.” Andrews handed Dakota a file. “A copy of the arson file.”
“I won’t ask how you got this,” Dakota said.
“Wise.”
Tessa and Dakota thanked Andrews and made their way back to the car. On the return trip, neither spoke. She thought about the two women she’d known who had died senselessly and knew Dakota well enough to know he was processing the case. When Dakota pulled up beside her car, she hesitated before getting out.
“It’s what you do when you’re quiet for long stretches,” she said to him. “You’re looking at the puzzle pieces.”
“Yes.”
“I always felt like I was intruding when you’d get quiet. I felt shut out.”
He faced her. “You were always my anchor. I didn’t have a right to expect that of you, but you reminded me there was more than the work.”
“You have every right to expect that of me. I am your wife.” She shook her head. “You always looked annoyed when I tried to speak to you. I thought I was doing something wrong.”
A smile quirked the edges of his lips. “I’ve been told that I always look annoyed.”
“You do.” She smiled. “Though it does make you look kind of sexy.”