The Competition

74

Graden drove me home. I invited him to come up to my room even though we were both fried. I needed to connect with something positive. The insanity I’d been immersed in for the past week had reached a crescendo with those notebooks.

I poured us each a glass of Ancien Pinot Noir. “Do you want to order room service?”

Graden studied his glass. “No, I don’t want anything to get in the way of the buzz.”

I turned on the CD player and we sat on the couch. The lazy-sweet strains of Stanley Turrentine’s “Little Sheri” softly filled the room. Graden clinked his glass against mine and we took a sip. He put an arm around me, and I kicked off my shoes and curled up next to him. “You know, it’s funny,” he said. “I’ve seen you more during this case than I ever do, but it sure doesn’t feel that way.”

We hadn’t had the chance to really connect because we were always running ninety miles an hour. “It is kind of a tease.”

He smiled. “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of that before.” He put down his glass, lifted my chin, and kissed me. A long, slow kiss. “Better?”

I was a little breathless. “Even more of a tease.”

He took my glass and put it down on the coffee table, then stood up and pulled me to my feet. Ten minutes ago, I’d have bet serious money that nothing could put me in the mood. But all it took was five minutes alone with Graden to completely change my mind. I followed him into the bedroom and we fell into each other as though we’d been apart for months.

I woke up Thursday morning feeling rested for the first time since I’d caught the case. Graden was already out of the shower and trying to dress quietly. “It’s okay, I’m up.” My voice was still hoarse with sleep.

He smiled and came over to sit next to me on the bed. He pushed my hair out of my eyes. “What’s on tap for you today?”

“We’ve got to meet with the shrinkers about those journals.”

“Did you get a look at that note he wrote to Amanda?” he asked.

“The one asking her to keep the notebooks for him? No.”

Graden shook his head, his features stony. “He worked her but good. Said, ‘You’re so special. You’re the only one who gets me. That’s why I trust you with these. They’re the most important things to me-other than you, of course.’ It’s incredible how that monster can mimic human behavior.” Graden picked up the remote. “Since you’re up, mind if I turn on the news?”

“Nope. And you can order us breakfast while you’re at it. Two eggs over medium and a bowl of mixed fruit.”

“I’ll go rattle some pots and pans.”

I kissed him and headed for the shower. I’d just finished drying my hair when I heard my name coming from the television. I ran into the bedroom and saw a news reporter standing in front of the St. Julien, where Bailey and I had stayed in Boulder. I turned up the volume.

“…and now we’ve learned that prosecutor Rachel Knight and Detective Bailey Keller paid a visit to someone here in Boulder yesterday. Officials have refused to answer questions about why they were here or who they saw, but it had to be something big to take them out of Los Angeles with at least one killer still at large. Back to you, Andrew.”

Graden had walked in during the newscast. He looked at me, worried. “How the hell did they find out about your trip?”

“Could be someone at the airport, or at the hotel. Who knows?”

Room service arrived. Graden started toward the door, then abruptly stopped. “Wait…Evan-”

“Will know we were talking to Amanda.”

Graden pulled out his cell. “Yeah, Sandy, get me Boulder PD right now.”

The captain of the Boulder Police Department took about ten seconds to guarantee immediate, round-the-clock protection for Amanda and her family. We barely spoke as we ate, each of us consumed by our own thoughts. When we’d finished, I brushed my teeth and grabbed my raincoat and scarf. The sun was shining, but I didn’t trust it-the trees were swaying in a strong wind.

Graden pulled me in for a quick hug before we went out into the world. “Let me know what the shrinks say.”

“I will.”

He gave me a little smile. “And hey, thanks for last night.”

“No, thank you.” I wrapped the scarf around my neck and opened the door. “Your money’s on the nightstand.”

Graden gave me a shove. “Get out.”

We headed downstairs. Graden, unlike Bailey, always had Rafi park his car, and he tipped well. His car was waiting at the curb. Bailey pulled up, and Graden waved as he drove off. She raised an eyebrow at me as I buckled up. “I see you’ve been putting in some overtime.”

“How original of you.” I told her about the newscast and getting protection for Amanda.

“I’d be surprised if Evan bothered with her at this point, but we should ask the shrinks about it.”

I intended to. “Did you get a copy of Evan’s journals out to Jenny and Michael?”

Bailey nodded. “Made them myself last night. Sealed them up and had them hand-delivered early this morning.”

“Do you ever sleep?” Bailey gave a grim smile. It was a drag of a chore, but she was wise not to trust anyone else with it. If those journals leaked, there’d be mass panic. “You talk to Harrellson yet?” I asked. “Hear anything about that San Diego kid, Mark…?

“Unger, yeah. He’s got a solid alibi. Kid’s been in school and at work at the local Jamba Juice every day for the past month. So at least we know we’re only looking for one psycho.”

“Good,” I said. “Did you ask Harrellson if he ever found that uni report saying witnesses had seen Evan in the gym?”

“I did. He can’t find it, and now he thinks he must’ve been hallucinating.”

“But Evan did go to homeroom,” I said.

“Yeah. But if they had all their stuff stashed close by, he could’ve ducked out when everyone else headed to the gym. It’s not that hard.”

Exactly what I’d figured. Now that I thought about it, I’d snuck into the girls’ room to ditch assembly a time or two myself. “I assume by now someone’s told Evan’s parents that we’ve got an arrest warrant out for him?” Bailey nodded. “How’d they take it?”

“The mom fell apart, but the dad refuses to believe it. Said Evan was never violent and never showed any interest in guns.”

“Did anyone ask them how Evan was acting just before the Fairmont shooting?”

“Yeah, and they said he acted completely normal. A little busier than usual; he wasn’t around much. But that was it.”

I had a hard time believing it. How could he possibly be that well controlled? Maybe later, when the shock wore off, his parents would be able to sift through their memories and find the clues that were escaping them now. But those clues had to have been fairly subtle for the parents to have missed them to begin with.

“Has the tip line blown up?” I asked. Now that we’d identified Evan Cutter as the shooter and released his photo, I expected a flood of calls.

“Of course. But nothing solid yet.”

Releasing Evan’s identity was a double-edged sword. The upside was that people would be on the lookout. The downside was that now he’d know he had to act fast to put on his big “finale.” And that meant the pressure was on like never before.

I put in a call to Eric to bring him up to speed.

“Hey, Rachel, I just heard about Evan being your suspect. What the hell?” I gave him the whole story in abbreviated form. “I have never seen a case like this in my life.” Eric gave a long sigh. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Vanderhorn wants you in ASAP for a debriefing.”

“Tell me he didn’t actually say ‘debriefing.’”

“Unfortunately, he did. I wouldn’t push you on this, but there’s a big memorial planned for the Fairmont High School victims, and he’s planning to attend.”

“Of course he is. There’s bound to be a ton of press.”

I could hear Eric smiling. “So Vanderhorn wants to know as much as possible, just in case he has to give a statement.”

Just in case. He’d chase them down and tackle them if they didn’t ask for a statement. This was one of the few moments when I really hated my job.

“Okay. But I’ve got a meeting with the shrinks first.”