There was other physical evidence that tied Cameron Johnson to his crimes as well. The black paint on Kacey’s Ford an
d Elle Alexander’s minivan had matched the custommade spray-painted bumper guard that had been hidden in a shed and fit perfectly on Johnson’s truck. A cache of stolen plates had been located, which explained some of the difficulty they’d had in ID-ing the damned truck.
Pescoli leaned back in her chair until it squeaked in protest and she heard, muted softly, the sound of voices raised in song ...
“I heard the bells on Christmas Day . . .”
Pescoli checked her watch. It was almost showtime and the stage was set.
A few things about the case still bothered Pescoli and scraped at her brain, tickling her into believing there had to be more than they’d already unearthed, even though all leads pointed to Cameron Johnson. As Kacey Lambert had insisted, Pescoli believed that Johnson had been the man who had attacked her in the parking garage in Seattle years before. And now, rumor had it the good doctor might be moving in with Trace O’Halleran, just like that, when Pescoli couldn’t commit to a man she’d been in love with for years.
Now Pescoli closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, thinking hard, running over the loose ends. She was pretty sure she had it figured out. Cameron Johnson had been a whack job with a capital W. No doubt about that. Also, he’d definitely been unraveling, more and more taking risks, but that didn’t explain everything. How had he gotten all the information on the clinic and the victims? Had he really uncovered that information himself? She didn’t think so.
Another thing: it looked like Leanna O’Halleran had stolen the gun that she’d used that night, and that gun was Clarissa Werner’s. Pescoli had interviewed Clarissa and her husband and they both believed Leanna has specifically taken it as a kind of ‘up yours’ to the Johnson clan as a whole. And it looked like Leanna O’Halleran’s special touch of irony was that she drove a BMW, same make and model as Clarissa’s, to also point a finger in the Johnsons’ direction.
Maybe. Or, maybe not. But there were other issues about the case that needed to still be addressed ...
Glancing at her watch again, Pescoli made a sound of impatience. Alvarez looked up, her brows lifted.
Earlier in the day, while they were grabbing coffee at Jolt, she’d asked her, “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope.” Pescoli had sprung for a triple chocolate mocha with a sprinkle of peppermint, just because it was the holidays.
Alvarez had ordered green tea.
Disgusting.
But Alvarez had been interested then, as she was now. “What are you planning?” she asked.
“I’ve already done it. Gerald Johnson is coming in, in about fifteen minutes, and I think he’s bringing his favorite attorney.”
“Judd?”
“Um-hmm. And I’ve got a surprise for him.”
“Can’t wait,” she said.
“C’mon, then,” Pescoli said, and Alvarez followed her to the front desk. Right on cue Gerald and Judd strode into the department. Judd was dressed as if he were going to try a case in court, Gerald in a sweater, ski jacket, jeans, and a world-weary expression.
“I don’t understand why you insisted on coming here,” Judd was saying to his father. He glanced at Pescoli and added, “I’ve told you everything I know about my brother.”
Pescoli led them into an interrogation room and Judd stiffened.
“What’s this about?” he demanded.
“The truth.” Pescoli turned on the recorder. “I’ve been doing some checking. A few things still don’t add up. Maybe you can clarify them.”
“Be glad to,” Gerald said.
Judd wasn’t as helpful. “Dad,” he warned his father, his expression brooking no argument, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Pescoli ignored him and waved them into the side chairs as Alvarez closed the door behind them. “When we were talking about Aggie’s accident, years ago, there was some discussion,” Pescoli began. “You said she got tangled in her blankets and tripped and fell down the stairs.”
“No,” Judd said, “I remember Cameron brushing up against her and she fell. No one could catch her.”
“You also said that she was pushed,” Pescoli reminded, from her chair across from them.
“Well, it was a little of both, I think.” Judd’s eyes narrowed and his shoulders stiffened slightly. “I don’t understand.”