The Soul Catcher - Alex Kava [114]
“Why do you say you almost hope not?” Racine broke the silence.
“What?”
“You said you almost hope it’s not the way the murders happened.”
“Because I hate to believe one man can incite a group of boys to do something like this. That one man could convince a group of boys to rape, brutalize and possibly murder women simply on command.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time in history. Men can be such bastards,” Racine said, letting some anger slip through.
Maggie glanced at her. Perhaps her anger came from personal experience. Perhaps it came from spending several years on the sexual assault unit. Whatever the reason, it seemed a bit personal, and not something Maggie wanted to know.
“It means Everett is much more dangerous than we ever thought,” Maggie said, then added in almost a whisper, “Eve was right.”
“Who’s Eve?”
“An ex-member I talked to. Cunningham and Senator Brier were able to set up the meeting. I thought she was being silly for being so paranoid.”
“So what do we do now?”
Maggie finally began to sort through the pile of stuff Garrison had left behind when he’d emptied the duffel bag. He had been in such a hurry to leave that he had taken only his camera and a lens. She pushed aside the strange metal contraption, a smelly T-shirt and sweatpants and reached for the manila envelope. She opened it and spilled its contents—more photos—onto the table alongside the Boston ones. These all looked like shots from Ginny Brier’s crime scene. They had to be from the roll of film he had kept for himself—leftover prints from what he had sold to the Enquirer.
“I still can’t believe I was so stupid,” Racine said as soon as she saw what the prints were. “Chief Henderson is so pissed.”
“You made a mistake. It happens to all of us,” Maggie told her without accusation. She felt Racine staring at her.
“Why are you being so understanding? I thought you were still pissed at me, too.”
“I’m pissed with Garrison. Not you,” Maggie said without looking over at Racine. Instead, she sorted through the photos of Ginny Brier. Something about the close-ups bothered her. What was it?
“I meant the DeLong case.”
Maggie stopped at a close-cropped shot of Ginny Brier’s face, but she could feel Racine’s eyes on her. So the DeLong case was still bothering her, too.
“You were pretty upset with me.” Racine wouldn’t let it go. Maybe she was feeling she needed some absolution. “I made a mistake and some evidence got leaked. Is that why you’re still so pissed at me?”
This time Maggie glanced at her. “It almost cost us the conviction.” She went back to the shot of Ginny Brier’s face, the eyes staring directly out at her. Something was different about this photo, about her eyes. What the hell was it?
“But it didn’t cost us the conviction,” Racine insisted. “It all worked out.” She wasn’t finished. “Sometimes I wonder…” she hesitated. “Sometimes I wonder if that’s really why you got so pissed at me.”
Now Maggie looked at her, meeting her eyes and waiting for Racine to get whatever it was she needed off her chest, although she had a pretty good idea what it was. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“Are you still pissed at me because I made a mistake and leaked evidence? Or are you still pissed at me because I made a pass at you?”
“Both were unprofessional,” Maggie said without hesitation and without any emotion. “I have little patience for colleagues who are unprofessional.” She went back to the photos, but she could feel the detective still watching, still waiting. “That’s it, Racine. There really isn’t anything more to it. Now, can we get on with this case?” She handed her the photo. “What’s different about this one?”
Racine shifted her stance, but Maggie could tell the woman wasn’t quite comfortable about moving on. “Different how?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Maggie said, rubbing at her own eyes and feeling the effects of too much Scotch from the night before. “Maybe I need to see the other crime scene photos. Do we have those handy?”
But Racine didn’t make an attempt to search. “Do