The Soul Catcher - Alex Kava [68]
When nobody spoke, Maggie said, “The evidence is inconclusive.”
Senator Brier stared at her, then shook his head. “You need not spare me. I need to know.”
Like hell he needed to know. Gwen stopped herself as Maggie caught her eyes. Maggie looked to Cunningham as if for permission to proceed. He sat, eyes straight ahead, his hands folded over each other on the table, no indication that he wanted her to stop.
Maggie continued, “We did find some vaginal semen, but there was no bruising, no tearing. Is it possible Ginny may have been with someone earlier in the evening?”
Gwen saw Cunningham shoot Maggie a look of warning. He obviously hadn’t expected her to ask the question. But now Maggie was no longer paying attention. Instead, she focused on the senator, waiting for his answer. Gwen wanted to smile. Good for you, Maggie. The senator looked flustered. He seemed more willing and comfortable talking about his daughter’s possible rape than he did about her normal sex life.
“I don’t know for sure. Some of her friends might know.”
“It would be helpful for us to find out,” Maggie continued, despite Cunningham fidgeting at the end of the table.
“You can’t possibly believe some boyfriend of hers did this to her, can you?” Senator Brier leaned forward, a hand twisting into a fist, crumpling a piece of paper. “That’s absolutely absurd.”
“No, we don’t believe that. Not at all, sir,” Cunningham said, jumping in. “That’s not what Agent O’Dell meant.” He looked at Maggie, and Gwen recognized the scowl that barely transformed his always stoic face. “Is it, Agent O’Dell?”
“No, of course not.” Maggie appeared calm and unflustered, and Gwen was relieved. “What I meant was that we will need to determine whether or not Virginia did, in fact, have consensual sex that evening. Otherwise the semen could be important evidence in finding her murderer.”
The senator finally nodded, then he sat back an inch, maybe two. Gwen imagined this was his style on the Senate floor, too, always ready, never relaxed.
“On that same note, Senator Brier,” Cunningham said, pushing up his glasses and planting his elbows on the table, “I have to ask you, is there anyone you know of who would want to hurt you or your daughter?”
The senator flinched, stunned by the question. He rubbed at his temple as if warding off a headache. When he finally spoke there was an unmistakable quiver. “So you are saying this wasn’t random? That it may have been someone Ginny knew?”
Chairs creaked with the shifting of uncomfortable bodies. Nervous fingers rustled papers. Without knowing much about the case, even Gwen realized that, whether it was a crazed boyfriend or not, no one around the table believed Virginia Brier had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. No one, that is, except for Senator Brier, who either believed it had been random, or wanted badly to convince himself that it had been. Gwen watched the man wring his hands as he waited for Cunningham to tell him the obvious.
“We don’t know anything for certain, Senator. We need to eliminate all possibilities. And, yes, we’ll need a list of all your daughter’s friends, anyone who may have seen or talked to her Saturday or even Friday.”
There was a muffled knock at the door and a tall, handsome black man came in, apologizing as he went to the senator’s side without waiting for an invitation. He leaned down and whispered something in his boss’s ear, a gesture that appeared familiar and comfortable for both men, despite the audience that waited quietly around the table.
The senator nodded and without looking up at his assistant said, “Thank you, Stephen.” Then he looked across the table