Chapter 17 #2
An officer escorted Dalmont out of the room, and Gary waited for Riley to show. He wanted to hear Dan’s reaction too.
“Is it me, or did he not seem all that upset at finding out his boyfriend had someone else in their bed?” Lewis commented. “And I know for a fact the officers who contacted him didn’t mention how the body had been found. All they told him was he’d been murdered.”
“This feels off,” Gary murmured as Riley and Dan entered the room.
“That’s what I said.” Riley gestured to Dan. “And we both felt it.”
“He’s hiding something,” Dan blurted out. “That’s what I meant when I said he was wearing a mask.” He shuddered. “When he said Robin was the seventh victim… I felt it most strongly then.”
“I thought you had to touch something to know all that,” Lewis remarked.
“He said sometimes he gets visions,” Riley retorted. “I’m guessing this is one of those times. Like Dan said, it’s not exact.”
Lewis widened his eyes. “Whoa, there.” He glanced at Dan. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a fan.”
Gary let out a sound of exasperation. “Now I know why I keep thinking of Agatha Christie. There was this one book where a serial killer was bumping people off alphabetically. I think he got as far as D before Poirot got wise.”
“What’s that got to do with this?” Lewis demanded.
“What I’m getting at is the whole point of the story was that the best way to hide a murder was in the middle of a bunch of murders. Okay, in Agatha’s story, the killer bumped off three random people to hide the one murder that mattered. This is the other way around.”
Dan’s eyes gleamed. “You think Dalmont murdered Robin. That he took advantage of all these killings to make it seem as if Robin was the next victim.”
“That’s why there’s no letter,” Riley announced. “Because he didn’t know about those.” He frowned. “But there’s no motive. Why would he kill Robin? They were engaged. Dalmont had no reason to kill him.”
“Yes, he did,” Dan murmured. When they looked at him, he lifted his chin. “You just haven’t found it yet, because it’s hidden.” He cocked his head to one side. “I know Robin Fields was a wealthy man, but was he a greedy one?”
“Why do you ask?” Gary frowned.
“Because that was part of what I was picking up in that apartment—greed.” He met Gary’s gaze.
“You need to find out what kind of man Robin was. How he died. Who benefits from his death. And whether Dalmont painted an accurate picture of the state of their relationship.” Dan crumpled a little.
“Sorry, but….” He looked as if all the energy had drained from his body.
What overwhelmed—and shocked—Gary was the need to get closer to him. Something in Dan tugged at him, the irresistible pull of invisible yet strong-as-steel threads slowly bringing them together.
Into a collision.
He had to make do with comforting words. “This has wiped you out. Do you need to go back to your hotel?”
“Maybe for an hour? I could come back this afternoon.”
Gary smiled. “Sure. Go recharge your batteries. I think we’re going to need them.”
Dan nodded. “See you all later.” He walked toward the door.
“I’ll walk you to your car.” Riley followed him from the room.
Gary turned to Lewis. “Okay. Start doing some digging. Let’s see what we can find out about Robin Fields—and Dalmont too.” When Lewis didn’t respond, Gary arched his eyebrows. “Something wrong?”
“I agree, Dalmont is kinda suspicious, but don’t you think you’re relying too much on what Porter says?”
Gary went over to the door and closed it. “Okay, let’s have this out. What have you got against him? You’ve been on his case since he arrived. He’s already proved he’s on the level. How else could he have known about Cory?”
“That’s easy. Someone in the department told him.”
Gary stilled. “You really believe that?”
Lewis snorted. “I find it easier to believe that than some crap about having visions and knowing things just by touching.” He aimed a hard stare at Gary. “And the fact that you aren’t even considering my suggestion tells me your judgment is cloudy when it comes to him. Now why would that be?”
Gary ignored the question, although his pulse quickened. “And what if he’s right? What if it turns out Dalmont did kill Robin?”
“What if is a fool’s game. I’m going on record to say I think this is a bad idea, putting all our eggs in one basket.”
“Duly noted. Except we’re not. Let’s assume Robin Fields is victim number seven, and the absence of both a letter carved into his back and a soiled condom means the killer was having an off day.
So we go down the same route as all the others: Grindr, phone records…
.” He paused. “Was Robin’s cell phone at the scene? ”
Lewis nodded. “On the nightstand.”
“Okay, so we chalk that up as yet another anomaly. What does that leave us with? A killer who murders six men in exactly the same way, his MO not wavering in the slightest, and then suddenly ditches said MO for his next victim?” He peered at Lewis.
“We explore both avenues. We check everything, like we always do. So go check. But before you do….” He drew himself up to his full height and looked Lewis square in the face.
“I get that you have pretty fixed opinions about some things. I’m not saying you should keep them to yourself.
But if I were to repeat some of those opinions—to Travers, for instance—I’ve got a good idea what he’d say. ”
Lewis froze. “Yeah? Never mind Travers. What do you say?”
“That you’re exhibiting borderline intolerance.” For God’s sake, tell him. “No, that’s not right. I think you’ve already crossed the line.”
Lewis said nothing, but his face tightened.
“So maybe it’s time for you to decide if you’re going to be part of the solution of these murders or a problem to be dealt with.
” He lowered his voice. “You’re a good cop, Lewis.
Or at least you were until this. I want to work with the guy who had flashes of inspiration, the one I could rely on.
Don’t make me take this further up, okay? ”
He swallowed. “Gotcha.” Lewis walked out of the room.
Gary sank into one of the chairs, his gut feeling as if it were in a twist. They were the same rank, but damn it, someone had to put Lewis straight, and it had to be better coming from him than from Travers. One point Lewis had made had struck home, however.
Is he right? Is my judgment skewed where Dan’s concerned?
One thing was certain. Dan Porter messed with his head.