Chapter Sixteen

Andrew handed the report to Olivia so she could read it. He pressed a few buttons on the computer and pulled up Lincoln's file.

Olivia set the report back on Andrew's desk and fell into the chair behind her. "So, he's a victim now?"

"I don't know. It wasn't a lot of blood. He could have gotten injured somehow. That DNA sample doesn't rule him out as a suspect." So why did he feel as if he missed something? Lincoln was involved in the rapes somehow. That fact sat in the pit of his stomach.

"So his truck breaks down out in the middle of nowhere. No signs of any crime. Except for the blood. Why was he out there?" Olivia wasn't asking him but just talking out loud. It sometimes helped figure things out.

"Did you know he was a murder suspect last year? DNA cleared him." The report in Lincoln's file didn't say anything about the case, but Andrew was interested enough to want to know what happened.

"Yep. It was Harbor Shire's case, but we assisted. Drug deal gone wrong. The victim struggled for the gun and was shot in the process. We found DNA under his fingernails, which didn't come back to Lincoln, although we suspected him because of his past drug charges. The guy who committed the crime wasn't a resident of Pickleville." Olivia stood.

Andrew turned away from his computer because he had a feeling the case Olivia informed him of had nothing to do with their rapes.

The phone rang in the other room.

"Find everyone Lincoln knows and interview them."

Andrew opened his mouth, but Stella came into his office. "There's another victim."

Stella had a look on her face that Andrew couldn't decipher. He didn't know her well enough.

"Tell me." Andrew followed Olivia out of the office. Stella kept pace with him, filling him in on his way out the door.

"Nicole Freeman's daughter didn't come home from school like normal, so she went out looking. She found her a block from the middle school."

Andrew almost hated to ask, fearing the answer. "How old?"

"Fourteen."

"Shit." Andrew took Olivia's arm as he headed out of the door. "Let Foley and I get this one. You find and interview every single one of Lincoln's friends and family."

Olivia wanted to argue. Her expression went from outrage to resignation quicker than Andrew would have thought, but she nodded. "You think one of Lincoln's friends is involved too."

It wasn't a question, but Andrew answered anyway. "Yes, and we need to find him." He turned to her. "It's a kid this time, Olivia. And I need someone good at reading people. You're the best lie detector I have."

Stella saw them out the door like a concerned mother seeing her kids off to school. Foley and Andrew drove separately out of habit more than anything else. Olivia went her own way, ready to knock on doors and hunt down liars.

Mackenzie Freeman had fought until the drugs hit her system. She wasn't conscious, but all evidence suggested the perpetrator had forced the drugs on her. She'd most likely been awake through most of the assault. The only good news was the perpetrator hadn't been as careful.

The paramedics were there by the time Andrew and Foley arrived.

Her mom had found her a block from school between a metal fence and a garage. Vines had wrapped around the fence rungs for a six feet section. The foliage was so thick the metal wasn't visible, and neither was she to the neighbors on the other side.

Andrew didn't need to ask the mother how she'd seen the girl. It was the middle of the day, and the kid had on a bright pink coat that looked unnatural in the setting. The mother might have had to look in the exact, right direction to spot the girl, but for a frantic mother, it probably wasn't hard to pay attention to every pink thing on the street and in every nook and cranny.

Andrew had gloves on when he used a cotton swab to wipe up what appeared to be semen on the grass. The lab would expedite the results on the semen, just like they had on the blood. Andrew would use the victim's age to their advantage in that regard. He picked up a cigarette butt and put it in a bag next. It was all excellent evidence.

The evidence was almost too good. If the average criminal made twenty-five findable mistakes, the rapist left twenty-six. There wasn't a condom. The perpetrator hadn't cleaned up the scene the same way they had in the past. The girl had blonde hair cut shoulder lengths, and she still had a roundness to her that spoke of youth. Nothing about her fit. So either it was a crime of opportunity, or it wasn't the same guy.

The air was cold and getting colder. Andrew could see his breath each time it exited his body. It wouldn't be long before winter stopped playing games with them and set in for the long haul. Yesterday had been a little warmer than today.

The paramedics had thrown a blanket over the girl's exposed bottom half, warming her legs as best as they could while they prepared her for transit.

Andrew worked next to them and the girl, searching for evidence. He wasn't but a foot away from her. He tried not to think about it, but just do his job. He needed to concentrate on the evidence, fitting the pieces together so he could catch the guy.

It was impossible.

His stomach knotted the entire time he combed the area, meticulously collecting everything he could. He had to fall back on his training because it was all he had. Everything else went toward wanting to protect the girl—call it a parental instinct or maybe just plain humanity. Still, everything else took a backseat to the point that he watched every move the paramedics made out of the corner of his eye just to make sure they were doing their job correctly. No one would hurt her ever again. He'd make sure of it.

Andrew heard footsteps behind him. Foley spoke. "I tried to interview the property owner. They aren't home from work yet. Not for another hour, according to the neighbor on the left, Mrs. Brunetti."

"Did she see or hear anything?"

"No. But she had a few negative things to say about the kid across the street. Edna Brunetti is a busybody who loves to gossip, but I think it's worth asking questions. I interviewed the neighbor on the other side as well, but they didn't hear anything because they just got home from work."

"We'll interview everyone we can until we find something useful." The DNA testing would take a while, even if they expedited it. And Andrew wanted to get the guy as soon as possible. Even a few days was too long. "I'm almost done, so I'll help with that. We'll start with that kid the neighbor mentioned."

Andrew stood and turned, meeting Foley's gaze. "I think this one was someone else."

Foley drew his eyebrows together. "Another guy?"

Andrew nodded and followed Foley out of the space and into the driveway. He put the collected evidence away. "I think the guy saw the girl walking and took advantage of the situation. He probably thought he could because of the other rapes. The dumbass left his semen behind, so we got him either way. If he's already in the system, anyway."

They walked across the street together.

"Got a feeling it's one of those Lincoln clan. None of them are right." Foley pointed to his head before knocking on the door.

Their conversation ended when a small grey-haired woman answered the door. She looked like everyone's favorite grandmother if he missed the coldness in her eyes. "I don't know anything about what's going on across the street."

"Okay." Andrew drew out the word because of her closed-off answer. "Did you see anyone suspicious?"

"Just my grandson's shithead friends."

"Is he home?"

"Been here all day and night. Hasn't left the house. Probably won't until later. That kid's never been good a day in his life. His mama doesn't care about anything but her drugs. Shoved him off on me, and I don't want him. Do me a favor and take him to jail. Lord knows he's done enough."

Andrew raised his eyebrows. "Has he been in trouble before?"

"No. But he's no good. His mother fucked him up." The curse word sounded foreign coming out of her mouth. It might match her angry-with-life attitude but not so much the outer shell.

"Go get him, ma'am." He had a feeling she would bitch about her life for hours longer if he didn't get her moving.

"He's lived with me for four months and hasn't done anything but mess around with the lowlifes in town." She pointed to Foley. "You know the ones. No secret who they are."

"Go get your grandson. Now." Andrew's mood wasn't great because all he wanted to do was follow the ambulance to the hospital and maintain bodyguard status outside the girl's hospital room, which was the second-best thing to want to do anyway. But the first best thing was to catch the fucker who hurt her, so he did his job instead. He was losing his patience fast because of the conflicting emotions.

Her eyes narrowed, and she left her doorway, walking somewhere inside the house. She left the door open.

"The cops want to talk to you. You better not have done something wrong. I'll whoop your ass if you did."

Andrew's eyebrows went up, and he met Foley's gaze. "Sounded like a threat to me."

Foley nodded and entered the house, his hand on his gun holster. "We're coming inside, ma'am."

They entered a kitchen that wasn't anything gourmet or worth writing home about, but it was clean and tidy. The sink was clear of dishes and nothing but a tea kettle sat on the stovetop. Matching canisters sat on one corner of the counter. They probably had flour and sugar inside. Next to the containers, there was a blue plastic bin filled with prescription pill bottles.

The woman came around a corner, gripping the arm of a teenage boy who looked as if he had one too many verbal beatdowns. He might have had even worse experiences a time or two. She pushed the boy toward Foley and Andrew. Foley stepped forward and caught him when he stumbled.

"Are you okay, son?" Foley asked the kid.

The kid nodded but didn't say anything. He shrank into himself when his grandmother started talking.

"I never said you could come inside. Don't you need a warrant for that?"

"No, ma'am. Not when you threatened the boy in front of us. That's probable cause."

"I didn't threaten him." The grandmother pointed to the boy. "This is your fault."

Andrew stepped in front of the kid. "You did. It is against the law to threaten to hurt a child. I will and can take you to the station where you'll need someone to bail you out. So back off before I make good on my threat."

The woman took a step back, sitting at a table just outside of the room. She looked pissed off but sat there quietly otherwise.

When Andrew turned back to the boy, his thin shoulders came up to his ears. "I'm Andrew, police chief here in Pickleville. Your grandmother tells me you just moved to town."

"Yes, sir."

"What's your name?"

"Robyn."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"So, you might know Mackenzie Freeman."

Robyn drew his eyebrows together. "I don't think so, sir. But I...I don't always remember names."

"She's a fourteen-year-old girl who got hurt this afternoon on her way home from school."

Robyn's eyes widened, and he visibly shook. "Hurt, how?"

Andrew knew one thing. Robyn didn't have anything to do with the girl's assault. He might've known something, but he hadn't hurt her. "Assaulted. Do you know anything about that?"

Robyn shook his head and averted his gaze. "I-I didn't hurt her."

"But you know who might have."

Robyn didn't meet his gaze when he nodded. "I-I buy pot from Dominic Lincoln."

The grandmother came out of her seat faster than Andrew would have thought, given her age and apparent poor health if the prescriptions were any indication. As she closed the distance between her and Robyn, she raised her fist. "You're just like your mother. Worthless little shit."

Andrew didn't have to say anything. Foley was already moving toward the woman with his handcuffs out and ready. "Turn around, ma'am."

She started yelling and cursing as Foley led her out of the house. The more she fought, the more they could charge her with, and that kept her away from the kid. Foley recited her Maranda rights as he took her out of the house.

The kid looked as if he couldn't breathe as he watched Foley take her away. "She'll go to jail? Even though she didn't hit me."

"Threatening someone is a crime. Especially a child. Even one who's seventeen. Now, tell me about your drug dealer."

Robyn took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm only telling you because the rapes are…" He shook his head. "They're bad, man. Real bad. But he was over here this afternoon. Came in the back door. Met me right after school. The timing works out, and Dominic…he'd do something like that."

Dominic Lincoln. "Do you know the rest of his family?"

Robyn shook his head. "We're not friends or anything. And…Dominic will hurt me if he finds out I snitched."

"You'll stay safe. But you have to trust me."

Robyn averted his gaze, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans, but eventually, he nodded.

Andrew changed topics. He knew just the person to help a kid like Robyn. He just had to jump through a few hoops and make a few phone calls. But he needed to hear it from the kid's mouth that his assessment was right. "How often has your grandmother gotten violent?"

Robyn shrugged. "Some. I can handle her."

Andrew reached out slowly, putting his hand on Robyn's shoulder. He waited to see if his touch was welcome before pulling Robyn into a hug. "You shouldn't have to."

Robyn nodded.

"Why don't you come to the station? You can hang out while I make a few calls."

"I can't stay here?"

"I got a better place for you. One where no one will hurt you. You'll have space to be a kid, but you gotta give up the drugs, mijo."

Robyn pulled away from him. "I don't…I don't know."

No way would he coddle the kid. "Do you want out from under them or not?"

Robyn closed his eyes. He visibly shook again. "Yes, sir. Yes. I do."

"Are you addicted?"

Robyn shrugged, which meant that he was but didn't want to admit it.

"Use words, Robyn."

Robyn sighed. "Yes. Probably. I take pills. Not just the pot. Okay? But I'm not like my mom. I'm not. And I can wean myself off." Robyn gestured to the door. "If she'd quit with her rants and stop hitting me like I'm her punching bag, it would be easier."

Andrew got a lot more with that answer than he thought he ever would. The most important thing was Robyn trusted him. Maybe it was the badge on his belt, or that Andrew had said the right things. Or it could have been a combination of both.

Robyn wasn't innocent. The adults in his life had made sure he grew up faster than he should. But he was still na?ve enough to blame his addiction on his abusive grandmother, and maybe that was part of it. But not having good coping and problem-solving skills led him down the path he walked—nothing else.

"You take the pills. Own it so you can move on." Andrew let Robyn go ahead of him. "I'll come back for your things later."

"I…um…I have drugs in my room." At least he didn't lie.

"Which I'll ignore when I'm packing for you." And he wouldn't let Robyn go back and get it either. "I have your back. You just focus on the next few minutes, mijo."