“That’s right. I’ve gotten his DNA swab, and tomorrow he’ll come into the station so we can get his fingerprints.”
“Is August Ryan aware of what’s happened?” I ask her.
“Besides you, the only person I’ve told is your DNA guy, Rex Bonetta,” she replies as we stop in a parking lot by her police SUV.
“Be careful out there, Fruge,” Marino says as she climbs out. “And hey, good job.”
“What?” She stops in her tracks. “You talking to me?”
“Good job getting the stuff from the dumpster and being smart enough to take it straight to the labs,” he says, and she couldn’t look more pleased. “You know, before the Feds made off with it.”
“Exactly.” She unlocks her SUV. “I thought maybe we could get some real answers for once.”
“What do you think?” he asks me as we watch her crank the engine, the headlights going on.
“That I’d like to check out what’s in the evidence room,” I reply, and most of all, I want to see the hands.
“No kidding, you and me both.” He follows Fruge out of the park.
The road leading in and out crosses the railroad tracks, and the lights are flashing, the gate arm going down. It’s nine o’clock on the nose, and we watch the silvery train thunder by, its passengers clearly visible in the lighted windows. Some are looking out and talking, others reading or busy with their phones, and I can imagine the killer watching the same thing we are.
“The best of both worlds,” I comment, the last cars passing, the rhythmic clatter fading.
“What are you talking about?” Marino asks as the lights stop flashing, the gate arm going up.
“Dumping a body by the tracks,” I answer as Fruge drives across them, and we’re right behind her. “Nobody sees what the killer’s doing inside the park at night. Then when it’s showtime, he has a built-in audience as the commuter train goes by.”
“And you’re thinking that’s what he had in store for Cammie, too. But his plan went off the rails, so to speak.”
“Very possibly,” I reply.
We’re back on the parkway, traffic much lighter at this hour, and my phone starts ringing. I don’t recognize the number but it’s the area code for Richmond, and I answer.
“Talk about a ghost from the past.” Greta Fruge’s pleasantly modulated voice sounds over speakerphone. “What a lovely surprise when Blaise told me you were trying to get hold of me.”
“Thanks for getting back to me. I’m with Pete Marino, and we’re driving,” I let her know.
“Hello, Pete. Imagine how pleased I was when I heard both of you were coming back to Virginia.” She sounds like she means it.
But then she sounds like she means everything she says, and that’s part of her danger and her charisma. During our early years, I trusted her too much and ended up in a few rough spots. Like her daughter, Greta is a talker, and now and then has a greater need to tell a secret than to keep it.
“I’ve been meaning to reach out,” she adds, and I can hear the murmur of TV news playing in the background. “I heard about Lucy. That’s so awful, so terribly sad, and I’m shocked and very sorry. Especially when it’s people so young.”
“And I’m sorry about your husband,” I reply. “I know that had to be terribly hard.”
“Life can deal us quite the hand, and we get reminded of our place in the grand scheme of things,” she says with surprising humility, and maybe tragedy has mellowed her. “One minute, Frank and I are planning a second honeymoon to Hawaii. The next, he’s fallen off the roof, ends up with a hangman’s fracture, and you know all about those.”
“A devastating injury. Life-changing for everybody.”
“Well, it certainly changed the trajectory of many things.” Greta clears her throat several times, her voice touched by emotion. “But enough about me, what can I do for you, Kay? And by the way, I’ve seen you on the news trying to escape Dana Diletti and her crew. You’re looking good, haven’t aged a bit. What’s your secret?”
“A career of being exposed to formaldehyde.” I repeat my tired old joke.
CHAPTER 34
MY SECRETARY SAID SHE left you a message a few hours ago, and I’m wondering if you got it,” I say to Greta.
“I don’t believe so,” she says over speakerphone. “But if you’re talking about Maggie then I’m not surprised. We’ve had our differences in the past when Doctor Reddy was a little too quick to accommodate some of his constituents. You know, maybe the alcohol level wasn’t really that high. Or maybe it was higher, depending on who he’s trying to help or screw at the moment.”