“By process of elimination, I’ve taken care of most of the ones, at least the ones who live within a fifty-mile radius.” When she was about to ask a question, he said, “It’s a computer app that crosschecks known people and their addresses.”
“Big brother.” She eyed him. “There’s a reason we get a bad name, you know.”
“And a reason we need information. Protect and Serve. Remember.”
“Yeah, yeah, so what did you find?” She was intrigued enough to get out of the chair and round his desk to stare at his computer screen.
“There are several pictures of the woman Kara described.” He pulled up three group shots where he’d highlighted the woman with long coat, scarf and colored glasses, though in most shots she was turned away from the camera. “There’s a resemblance.”
“Okay, I guess.” She leaned closer, then studied the digitalized picture. “Could be.”
“I was hoping to see one of her getting into a car or talking with someone who might know her, just find some sort of connection. Someone we could ID and talk to.”
“Did you?”
“No, but if you notice there’s this other woman near to her. The redhead with the ponytail. But they’re never together, the redhead is in the background, but no matter where she moves to, the redhead is nearby.”
Johnson shrugged. “So?” Just then a cell phone chimed outside the doorway and someone said, “Hello,” footsteps approaching, then fading.
“Take a closer look at her,” Thomas suggested, enlarging the image.
Johnson leaned in.
“Now look at this.” He cut the screen in half and scrolled through images taken twenty years before, pictures of the people who had testified or made statements in the McIntyre Massacre trial. Eventually he stopped scrolling at a shot of a teenaged girl with a pixie face and long red hair parted down the middle.
“Oh, God.” She glanced at Thomas. “Brittlynn Cadella?”
“Right. Chad Atwater’s secret girlfriend, the one he eventually married.”
“His alibi.” She straightened and trained her gaze on the screen where the image of the Marlie look-alike was.
Thomas pulled at his collar and said, “I can’t help but wonder what she’s doing at the protest. You’d think she’d want to be as far away from Jonas McIntyre as possible, to lay low.”
“Apparently not. She and Chad live up on the mountain, not far from the ski resort where he teaches lessons. Let’s go and see what she has to say for herself.”
“And for Chad.”
Thomas scooted back his chair and found his jacket hanging on a hook near the door. “Maybe this time he’ll speak for himself.”
Johnson laughed. “Ten to one she’s his alibi again.”
“If they need one. I can’t see either of them being involved in killing Margrove,” he admitted, unable to tie all the loose strings together.
“Unless Margrove dug up something we don’t know about, something that Chad is worried will incriminate him in the massacre to decades ago.”
Slipping his arms through the sleeves of his jacket, Thomas admitted, his frustration growing, that he felt that they were closing in on something, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “I just don’t understand a motive here. But there’s one way to find out. Want to take a trip up to the mountain?”
She nodded. “Thought you’d never ask.”
They were on the way out of the building, Thomas with keys in hand, when they ran into Gleason’s secretary, Lorna Driscoll, who was carrying two water bottles toward the lieutenant’s office. “Oh, Detective Johnson,” she said, “Lieutenant Gleason is looking for you.” A glance at Thomas. “You too,” she added quickly, hurrying along the short corridor.
“What is it with you and Gleason?” Thomas asked under his breath as they turned to follow Lorna down the short hallway.
“Uncle Archer?” she said, her dark eyes glinting.
“He’s not your uncle.”
“No, but he and I share a common interest,” she said, winking. Then, “Don’t get the wrong idea. It’s through a charity for disabled kids.” She was no longer teasing but didn’t elaborate as they walked through the doorway.
Gleason was seated at his neat desk, sports paraphernalia still in place. “I saw the detectives in the hallway, thought you wanted to talk to them.” Lorna deposited a bottle on the corner of the lieutenant’s desk.