“I’m afraid I can’t be completely forthcoming,” she said apologetically. “But I’ll let Detective Hernandez share what he’s able to.”
“Thanks, Ms. Hunt,” Ryan said, smoothly taking the baton. “We just happened to be in the area wrapping up an interview when we got the alert about this case. It sounded like it might be part of a pattern we’re investigating and we thought we’d check it out firsthand.”
“You think this is related to a case you’re working?” Costabile asked disbelievingly.
“It’s possible,” Ryan said. “We’d have to look at the body to draw any firm conclusions. Of course, we don’t want to step on the toes of the detectives already assigned. Who might that be?”
Costabile stared at Ryan, taking note of his challenging tone. It was clear that Ryan knew there were no detectives on the scene yet. Costabile appeared to be debating whether to answer the spoken question seriously or address the one below the surface about what exactly was going on here.
“Detective Strode should be here momentarily,” he finally said in a disturbingly polite tone. “But we were prepping the body to be viewed down at the coroner’s. Everything looks pretty open and shut. We didn’t want to waste department resources unnecessarily.”
“Sure, sure. I get it,” Ryan replied, using the same official but not genuine politeness as Costabile. “All the same, maybe we take a look here so as to not compromise the scene. We are talking about a teenage girl stabbed in her own bed…how many times?”
Costabile’s face turned red and it looked like it was taking an enormous effort for him to keep his composure.
“Nine…that we’re aware of.”
“Nine times?” Ryan repeated. “That seems like a lot. Doesn’t that seem like a lot to you, Ms. Hunt?”
“It seems like a lot,” Jessie agreed.
“Yeah, a lot,” Ryan added for emphasis. “So maybe we dot the ‘i’s’ and cross the ‘t’s’ on this one before tossing the girl into a plastic bag and driving her over a bunch of pothole-strewn Valley streets? You know, just to be thorough.”
He smiled sweetly as if he’d merely been discussing the weather. Costabile did not smile back.
“Are you taking over this investigation, Detective?” the sergeant asked flatly, not commenting on the pothole dig.
“Not at this point, Sergeant. Like I said, we just want to see if the killing fits our pattern. You’re not denying us access to the body, are you?”
That question led to another uncomfortable silence. Jessie watched another officer named Webb wander over from inside the apartment and take up a position right behind Costabile. His right hand was resting uncomfortably close to his gun holster. She glanced back and saw that Officer Lester had now stepped inside the police tape and was standing behind them, assuming the same posture with his hand in the same position.
Costabile looked down at his shoes and kept his gaze there for several seconds. Ryan stared at the top of the man’s head, his eyes unblinking. Jessie was afraid to breathe. Finally, Costabile looked up. A vein on his forehead bulged. His eyes were angry slits. Slowly, he opened them and his body seemed to relax slightly.
“Come on in,” he said, waving his hand in an exaggerated welcome.
Ryan stepped forward and Jessie followed. As she moved into the apartment, she reminded herself it was okay to breathe again.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was hard to stay focused.
With so much testosterone bouncing around the apartment, Jessie was still slightly apprehensive that a shootout might break out any moment.
She tried to force the simmering animosity out of her brain as she walked through the place. She needed to have a clear head from this point forward. The coroner might focus on the state of the body and the crime scene folks might look for blood spatter or fingerprints. But she needed to be aware of everything that contributed to the psychological makeup of the victim. Even the smallest detail could lead to the killer.
The apartment was fairly unremarkable. It was clear to her from the décor that both residents were female even though the gender of the victim’s roommate hadn’t been mentioned. One of them was clearly way more personally conservative than the other. The wall art was a confusing amalgam of watercolors and religious iconography next to Gustav Klimt prints and incendiary Mapplethorpe photos.
As she walked down the hall, Jessie got the distinct sense that the more outré roommate was also the one with more money. Her style seemed far more dominant. When they passed the smaller bedroom, she glanced in and saw a cross on the wall above the dresser.
So the one who could afford the bigger bedroom died.
Sure enough, they continued on to the larger bedroom at the end of the hall, from where she could hear voices.
“You up for this, criminal profiler lady?” Costabile asked derisively.
“She’s been…” Ryan started to say but she cut him off.
“I’m good,” she answered.
She didn’t need him standing up for her professional virtue. And she definitely didn’t want another tough guy competition when she was trying to concentrate. Ignoring whatever stare-down was going on behind her, she took a deep breath and stepped into the bedroom.
Before even looking at the body, she allowed her eyes to scan the room. There were more of the bold decorating choices on the walls and a disco ball lamp beside the bed. A chair in the corner was on its side and magazines were scattered on the floor, hinting at a struggle. The desk was mostly empty, though there was a clean, rectangular spot surrounded by a layer of dust, a sure sign that a laptop had recently been there.
“TV is still here,” Ryan noted. “So is the gaming console. Seems like an odd decision for a thief to leave that stuff.”
“Laptop is gone though,” Jessie noted. “Anyone find a cell phone?”
“Not yet,” Officer Webb said.
“Did you get her number from the roommate so we can try to track it?” she asked, trying not to let her impatience show.
“The roommate has been a little on the hysterical side,” Costabile said. “We’ve had trouble getting much of anything out of her other than her name, Elizabeth Polacnyk. The EMTs have her in the ambulance outside. They were going to sedate her.”
“Okay,” Jessie said. “But don’t let her leave until we’ve had a chance to speak to her.”
Costabile still looked put out but nodded for Officer Lester, who was still near the front door, to convey the demand. As he did, Jessie finally turned her attention to the girl on the bed. She was already in the body bag, though it hadn’t been zipped up. The sight of it was infuriating to Jessie.
“Did anyone take photos before her body was disturbed?” Ryan asked, speaking aloud the question in Jessie’s head.
A crime scene tech raised his hand.
“I managed to snap a few just before she was loaded in the bag,” he said.
The deputy medical examiner on the case walked over.
“Hi. I’m Maggie Caldwell. We tried to hold off on bagging,” she said apologetically. “But we were instructed otherwise.”