CHAPTER 6
I’M GLAD YOU MADE it,” August Ryan says to me, and he’s short and slight, with braces on his teeth, his hair curly and gray.
He doesn’t come across as intimidating in the least, and that works well for him, I have no doubt. People tend to underestimate him, to let their guards down, assuming he’s sensitive, even gentle. It’s rather much the antithesis of how they react when Marino shows up.
“Just so you’re aware, Doctor Scarpetta, nobody’s been in here besides Fruge, me, and the crime scene guys who did the walk-through,” August says.
He steps on a sticky mat, suited up in white Tyvek from head to toe. I figure this is as good a time as any to mention my new forensic operations specialist.
“Pete Marino is with me and waiting in the truck,” I let them know, as if it’s a given. “He’s former Richmond P.D., and also worked with numerous other law enforcement agencies and my various offices over the years. Now he’s a private consultant who’s assisting my office, and I’ve asked him to take a look.”
“The fewer people in here the better,” August says, and what he really means is, hell no, he doesn’t want Marino around.
“He lives two doors down and has been inside this townhome before.” I cover my phone with a protective film. “I’ll let him elaborate on what he knows about problems Gwen Hainey allegedly was having with a former boyfriend before she moved here from Boston last month.”
“Well, that sounds important,” August replies, his interest kicking up.
“What kind of problems?” Fruge wants to know. “Because an estranged boyfriend might make sense. Obviously, she turned off the alarm and opened the door to whoever it was. It was locked when I got here, the alarm off. Everything was locked except for the door near the kitchen that leads into the garage.”
“I’m waiting for a callback from the alarm company,” August adds. “To get the history, see when she turned it on and off last.”
“Marino has information I think you’ll find helpful, and he can fill you in himself.” I won’t take no for an answer.
“If that’s what you want, Chief.” August isn’t happy about it. “We’ve set up a pup tent, and he can suit up like the rest of us. But I want you to walk through first, see what you notice.”
“I gotta call the manager back and find out how much she was paying in rent.” Fruge steps outside, shutting the door behind her.
“What about the security gate’s video recordings?” I ask August.
“That’s a good question.” He gets quieter, more serious.
“I assume you’ve reviewed them?”
“We got an unusual situation here,” he says. “There’s an hour of Friday night’s video that has no images, only audio. In other words, the cameras were covered for an interval.”
The microphones picked up the sound although it’s muted, and August describes seeing something being slipped over one camera, then the other.
“As the video is blacked out, you can hear a quiet crinkly noise, maybe some type of plastic bag,” he explains.
This occurred at 5:13 P.M. Two minutes later the code 1988 was entered to open the entrance gate. The year Gwen Hainey was born, and a stupid code for her to pick, August says.
“I’ve got to admit I’m wondering if it’s possible she orchestrated all this herself.” He grabs a pair of gloves out of a box as we continue suiting up inside the townhome’s entryway.
“Gwen covered the cameras, then open and shut the gates? How would that make any sense?” White Tyvek makes a rustling sound as I pull the hooded jumpsuit over my boots and clothing.
“It wouldn’t unless she’s staged something elaborate because she wanted to disappear,” he suggests. “And she’s trying to make it look like something happened to her.”
“There’s nothing staged about the dead woman inside my cooler,” I remind him.
“If it’s her.”
“It’s certainly looking like it so far. Did the cameras continue recording audio after they were covered?”
“Yes. But all you hear is the gates opening, and this creepy music, like someone was playing it inside the car really loud.”
“But you don’t hear the sound of an engine?” I double up on face masks, and a plastic shield goes over them, the visor flipped up for now. “Because that’s rather odd.”
“Well, the mics were covered, and maybe the engine’s a quiet one,” he says as I wonder what kind of car Gwen’s ex, Jinx Slater, drives. “Maybe the labs will pick up something when the recordings are enhanced.”