Page 5
K ylie let herself into her small house, dropped her coat and her sketch pad, the one she kept as a spare in the office, and kicked off her shoes. Walking into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of red wine, carried it outside to the deck, and collapsed onto the huge oversized deck chair she kept there. To say she was exhausted put it mildly. To say she was overwrought was just another way of saying the same damn thing. And yet none of the words conveyed the torment of her soul right now.
When her doorbell rang a few minutes later, she groaned, momentarily wondering if she should just not answer it. When it rang again and then again, quite insistently, she frowned, not sure she wanted to go at all now. She stood and headed to her front door. Peering through the peephole, she saw a very disturbed Porter staring back at her.
“Open the damn door,” he snapped.
“And why the hell would I do that?” she asked, still eyeing him through her peephole, “especially given the mood you’re in.”
At that, his eyebrows shot up, and his hands fisted on his hips. She couldn’t see below that as he was too close to the door. “Obviously I won’t hurt you.”
“Obviously I don’t know that because of the mood you’re in,” she snapped right back. “I can’t see anything about the way you’re acting that makes me want to let you in.”
He closed his eyes, took several deep breaths, then repeated, “Please just let me in.”
“Oh, as if that’ll work,” she muttered, glaring at him. He just continued to glare at her. Deciding that he wouldn’t go away, so she might as well deal with whatever the hell he was angling for, she opened the door. “Jesus Christ, what the hell are you even doing here?” she muttered. “My day is over.”
“Yeah? My day is over too, but it’s not as if anybody has that opportunity to stop working.”
“I do,” she argued. “I did what I was asked to do, and that was it.”
He frowned at her and asked, “Can you really turn it off?”
“No, of course I can’t turn it off,” she snapped, “but that’s hardly the point.” She was fuming on the inside still.
“Maybe,” he muttered, as he looked around her place, “Where were you sitting?”
“Outside on my deck,” she replied, not sure what he was getting at.
“Good.” Then he nudged her toward the deck. “I’ll follow you out there.”
“And why the hell would I want you out there?” she muttered, glaring at him.
“Because I’ll pour myself a glass of wine too,” he snapped. “It’s not as if you’ll be friendly enough to offer me one.”
“No, I probably won’t.” She raised her hands but turned and headed back out to the deck. When he rejoined her, he did bring a glass of wine with him. She sighed. “So, did you just come here to mooch my wine?”
“This cheap shit?” he asked, holding it up. “Hell no.”
“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to drink it,” she retorted, shooting daggers. “It’s not as if you were invited, after all.”
“The chance of your inviting anybody is pretty-damn slim.”
She stared at him, surprisingly hurt by that remark. “I’m not completely antisocial.”
“Maybe not, but you’re not in any way social either.”
“I don’t have to be social,” she replied. “You guys are all work colleagues, but that doesn’t mean you have to be my best friends.”
He walked out farther onto the deck and turned to look at her. He had a sip of wine, while he assessed the seating.
She knew what was coming next. “Don’t even think about it,” she warned.
He shrugged. “Already thought about it. Only one place to sit, so I guess I’ll join you.” And, with that, he sat down in the oversized chair beside her.
She scrambled to her feet and glared at him. “You just take the cake,” she snapped.
He smiled. “Sometimes, yes.”
“What the hell are you being so obstreperous for?”
“Obstreperous?” he repeated slowly.
“Oh, don’t give me that. You know what I mean.”
“Difficult, cranky, miserable. Yeah, I’ve heard all those complaints before, but yours is not a common one.”
“Doesn’t matter if it’s common or not.” She glared at him. “Stop making fun of me.”
“Now that… I would never do.”
“So, what the hell are you doing here then?”
“I saw your sketchbook,” he replied abruptly.
She winced. “Oh, great, just what I wanted to hear.”
“You knew I would see it. I told you I wanted to see it, at least twice.”
“I figured you would at some point in time. I didn’t realize the captain would go running to you so quickly.” His gaze narrowed at that, and she raised her hands, palms up. “So, what if you did see my sketchbook?”
“That’s what I’m here about. You’ve seen crime-scene sketches before. I’ve seen crime-scene sketches before,” he began. “I have never seen anything quite like yours.”
She frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
He eyed her. “Surely you can’t possibly misunderstand what I’m saying.”
“I don’t really know what you’re saying,” she declared, “so I guess I am. What are you talking about?”
“They’re phenomenal,” he said, pausing, as if trying to find the right words. “They’re also painful.”
“It’s a painful subject,” she stated, her tone deliberately short, wishing he would quickly move past this. And she was sorry for having asked.
“I just don’t understand it, so help me out, okay?” Still, she frowned at him plainly. “I think you were more affected than all of us, yet you still managed to create those amazing sketches.”
“It’s what I do,” she said, as she walked to the edge of the deck and sat down on the steps, turning to face him.
He smiled. “Nice chair you’ve got here.”
“Yeah, it would have been,” she replied, but she pivoted to stare out at her backyard, knowing that he was here and wouldn’t leave until he got to the bottom of whatever. “So, what about my drawings?” she asked, with a wave of her hand. “You knew I was working on them.”
“Yes, I did. I had no idea you would create something like that though.”
Frowning, she turned to study him, but he appeared to be sincere. She shrugged and turned again to stare out at her backyard, but she was acutely aware of everything he did. When he got up and walked closer, sitting down on the steps beside her, she couldn’t help herself and shifted away from him.
He nodded to himself. “That’s what I thought.”
“What is what you thought?” she asked, glaring at him.
“It’s not just me,” he replied. “It’s everybody. When you get a chance to move away, you do.”
She flushed. “So what? I don’t like people in my personal space.”
“If only that, it would be okay,” he clarified, “but it’s not only that.”
“So what if it isn’t only that?” she asked, staring at him. “Will you go dig up and pry into everybody else’s business? How do you think that’s okay?”
“No, most of the time I can’t stand being in anybody else’s business,” he stated, “but this job doesn’t really let me off the hook.”
“So, go deal with your casino shooter.”
“I would love to,” he replied, shaking his head, “but apparently, not only has the shooter killed his mother and is on the run right now, with hundreds of cops out there after him, I’m also very concerned with that second-to-last drawing in your sketchbook.”
She stiffened and then slowly relaxed, hoping he hadn’t noticed, but of course he had. He was a fucking detective, and she never expected it to go unnoticed.
“Exactly. That one,” he noted. “We’re still waiting for the crime-scene photos to come our way, but I did go down to forensics to see if they had any, and they did have one—one like that—and it was similar but not exactly the same.”
She frowned at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“There were slight differences. Technically speaking the details were all there, but some things were different.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked, staring at him. “I drew what I saw.”
He nodded. “Except I suspect that, with this particular sketch, you drew what your third eye saw, not what you saw at the crime scene.” She stared at him and blinked. He smiled. “Yes, I’m the one who told the captain about you. He told me that you were rather anxious to know who had asked him to have you brought on board.”
“Why the devil would you tell him that?” she asked, staring at him in shock, still reeling from what he’d just said.
“Maybe I’ll reconsider it at some point,” he acknowledged, “but it was my professional opinion that you would be a huge asset to the department, and that second-to-last picture you drew just reinforced it.”
“God no,” she argued. “It’s just a drawing from the crime scene.”
“Not quite,” he countered. “I compared the two renditions myself, your hand-drawn scene and the camera-generated picture. The two are very close, but yours is clearer, crisper, and far more detailed.”
“Meaning that I filled in information that wasn’t there?” she asked, abruptly affronted that he would accuse her of that.
“No, I’m not saying I think you made it up. Absolutely not. I’m thinking maybe somebody adjusted the body and changed something in the context of that woman’s death between the time of your sketches, which happened first, and the time the photographs were taken. That is a consideration.”
She pondered that, feeling some of the shock inside her easing back at his words. “I guess that’s possible,” she relented. “Such madness filled that casino. Everybody was busy doing their own thing, and it seemed as if one million people were running all over the place.”
“And there probably were,” he agreed. “However, that doesn’t change the fact that whatever you drew is different from what the camera noted. Not all of it,” he clarified, waving a hand, “just a little bit.”
“So?” she asked, watching the tic in his jaw as he studied her.
“So, I want to know more about your sketch.”
“Everything you want to know is on that sketch,” she stated. “I just drew what I saw.”
He nodded slowly. “Somebody posed the woman after death, even with everybody around, amid all the craziness, yet before the official photographs were taken,” he suggested, “which is a little bit disconcerting, considering so many cops were around. Yet somehow you picked up a bit of extra information and put that into your picture.”
“Could be a lot of things, and none of it is my concern.”
“It is my concern. The question is, did you see anybody around the victims who wasn’t supposed to be there?”
“How would I know that?” she asked, striving for calm, her mind racing as she wondered if she had come up against somebody who had posed the body differently. “I did have one reporter tossed out, but we were at the backside of the casino, not near the staged woman. Everybody else had jackets with some official emblem on them or ID tags around their necks, designating them as supposed to be there.”
“That’s very true too,” he agreed.
“So, that woman, who was she?” Kylie asked.
He sighed. “She was a senator’s daughter.”
She stiffened, then turned and looked at him. “Seriously?”
He nodded. “Which is also why we’re wondering what the hell is going on.”
She shook her head. “And you’re expecting me to tell you?”
“I’m not expecting anything.” He waved his hand about. “Yet you did definitely bring up something that needs to be questioned.”
She groaned. “It’s what happens when I work,” she muttered. “Everything goes to hell all the time.”
He smiled. “So, you can see how we’re wondering if we have a second shooter.”
As she thought about it, she nodded. “That would make sense. And yet it’s such a horrific act that it doesn’t make sense, and who else was there who could have done this?” she asked. “And did one of the two shooters then kill the other shooter?”
“All very good questions,” Porter noted, “and believe me that I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“I’m glad to hear that… because, right now, it’s all looking pretty confused.”
“Yes, and no. We were happy to lump the senator’s daughter into this mass shooting for the moment, but eventually we would have come to the same conclusion, once we compared your sketches to the crime scene photos.”
“And yet you said those crime scene photos didn’t show that.”
“No, they didn’t.” Porter frowned as he took a sip of wine and stared out across her backyard.
“And if that’s the only reason you came to see me,” she pointed out, “I can’t help you.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” he mumbled, still staring off, as if processing information.
She groaned. “I won’t get rid of you very easily, will I?”
He laughed. “No, you sure won’t.”
“Damn,” she muttered.
“You could be easier to deal with.”
“I could be, but I won’t be.” She just shook her head and waited.
“So,” he began, “the next issue then is,… if, indeed, we have two shooters or two killers in this mess, did they work together?”
Immediately her mouth opened. “No.”
He studied her and nodded. “That would be my guess as well, but, in your case, you spoke as if maybe it wasn’t a guess.” She glared at him, and he nodded. “I think I would agree with it anyway. I can’t see them working together if the one guy’s only doing one killing.”
“No, but then the other guy, the mass shooter, he’s proud of his work,” she stated. “At least somebody is proud of their work. There was a sense of artistry to some of it.”
“Some of it, yes, but then the question is, who and what?”
“That is beyond me,” she declared. “I have no idea.”
“And, of course, that just brings up more interesting questions. If it wasn’t meant to be that way, who else would be targeted?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said.
“I’m just wondering if this young woman, the senator’s daughter, was targeted, and the mass-murder shooter was set up to prime the pump so the second shooter could kill a single woman.”
“And then what? Did both shooters leave together? I would think there would be videos of it,” she guessed. “It’s a casino, for Christ’s sake. They have massive security systems in place to catch the card counters. Supposedly cameras would be everywhere.”
“Yes,” Porter agreed. “They do have cameras, and, of course, not all of them worked.”
She stared at him, the color draining from her face as she whispered, “But that means…”
He nodded. “It means a couple things. It could mean that it was an inside job, but that would be way too easy to suggest,” he noted in a laconic voice. “What do you think?”
“Or it could just mean that they knew some power outage had happened, or they created a power outage or something that would take down part of the security systems. Or maybe they paid somebody, or… I don’t know,” she said, raising her hands.
“Exactly. The casino hasn’t reported any losses or sustained outages at the same time.”
“Oh, good God,” she muttered. “Are you saying that the shooter could have been camouflaged for something else completely?”
“When you think about it, while all that carnage was going on, consider how much damage could have been done to their security systems, and how much money could have been stolen.”
“And the casino people are not speaking about it, I suppose?”
“I haven’t really found the right person to loosen up about it,” Porter clarified. “I was thinking that maybe you could help me there.”
She shook her head. “Oh no, no, no, that’s not happening.”
He just smiled and waited, as he sipped his wine.
“What the hell are you even going on about?” she snapped, glaring at him. “That’s not the shit I do.”
“Oh, it’s not the shit that you’ve agreed to do in the past. I can confirm that,” he declared, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not something you might agree to do in the future.”
She frowned. “I’m not saying what the future will bring, but I am saying that isn’t the work I want to do.”
“Of course not,” he murmured. “Who the hell would?”
“You, apparently,” she shot back. She hopped to her feet and paced the pathway in front of him. “That would be incredibly diabolical, to set up somebody who is primed and ready for a shooting like this, then take advantage of the chaos to go kill somebody he needed to take out for whatever reason,” she noted. “But to do it in such a way that involved robbing the casino or something like that is just way too far out.”
“Is it?” he asked. “I’m not saying that they were robbed. I’m just saying that potentially a window of opportunity existed that might have kept somebody else’s mouth shut.”
“Well, shit.” She ran her fingers through her hair and then shook her head. “No, it doesn’t feel right.”
“What doesn’t?” he asked, eyeing her intently.
“The whole crime scene thing, that doesn’t feel right.”
“Why do you think that?”
“It was a different killer for that poor woman,” she stated, “and yet I agree it’s possible that this mass murder could have been set up as a way to just target the senator’s daughter. God help her and her family for that because that’s one of those memories you’ll never, ever get rid of.”
“Of course,” he said.
“And now you must catch two killers.”
“We’re on it,” he replied, “the trouble is getting anybody convinced that there are two.”
“But I took sketches of it.”
“But the crime scene doesn’t have any evidence of it.”
She frowned at him. “You think that I staged that woman’s death?” she cried out in shock. “Is that what you’re suggesting? That I set up and changed things at a crime scene?” Shocked, stunned, and horrified, she could only stare at him in complete shock.
“No,” he snapped. “That’s not what I’m suggesting at all. But I am suggesting that maybe somebody saw you sketching the senator’s daughter, and somebody decided it was a little too obvious or recognized what was happening or what all of that meant, then disturbed that particular death themselves. That would explain why your sketch is different from what the crime-scene photographer caught on film just half an hour or so later.”
She sank back down onto her deck steps. “You mean, somebody who would be offended, somebody who would be angry?”
“Or somebody who thought the dead woman’s pose was sacrilegious,” he added. “A woman lost her life there, and I’m sure it would have upset a lot of people to think that she was intentionally posed in such a seductive way.”
Kylie didn’t know what to say to that. Just so much shock was involved that it made no sense to her, but since when did anything ever make sense in this stupid world? This world that she somehow got on the wrong side of. “I don’t know. I don’t even know exactly what it is you’re suggesting.”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” he replied. “I’m working through a problem with your help.”
She glared at him. “Then why do I feel, if I don’t say the right thing, you’ll lock me up?”
“I would never lock you up,” he stated. “That happened to my sister, and it sure as hell is something I would never allow to happen to you.”
She stared at him dumbly. “You want to explain that?”
“Nope, not right now at least.”
“Do I know you, like from before?”
“No, you don’t,” he stated. “It would have been nice if we had known each other though,” he noted, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “It would have made some of this easier.”
“Were you—” She stopped, then realized what he’d said. “Your sister, why was she locked up?”
“Because they considered her crazy, completely unstable, and not safe to be on her own.”
“And was she?”
“She was certainly unstable, though she was doing much better on her medication. Now she’s doing a whole lot better.”
“And what do you mean by that?”
“She’s working with somebody specifically to help her.”
“That’s good. That’s what therapists are for.”
He smiled. “In this case, it’s hardly a therapist.”
“Oh God.” She stared at him, suddenly realizing something about his sister.
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I know it’s a word you don’t like. A word you try hard to never voice apparently, but, yes, she is psychic and is working with a group trying hard to help her stabilize, and it’s been amazing. She’s done a complete 180 and is doing phenomenally.”
“I’m really happy for her,” Kylie whispered, “but that has nothing to do with me.”
Porter smiled and nodded. “I know that’s not how you want the world to think of you, but you’ve got to realize that sometimes people out there see things, and it’s not just you.”
*
Porter was certainly dancing around the issue, unsure if Kylie would freak out if he shared that he’d seen her at the same hospital where his sister had been admitted. Kylie had been working the angles very hard to get herself out of there, and he sure as hell couldn’t blame her. And Stefan had mentioned something about her too. Apparently she was incredibly strong, untrained, willful, and very locked down, after being raised by her aunt, where love and affection had no place, and having raised her to adulthood, then promptly kicked her out.
Porter never understood people like that, and where the hell did people ever end up raising a child who needed so much more? But Kylie had survived, and she had become incredibly strong. According to Stefan, Kylie’s aunt had been 100 percent against Kylie having any abilities and had been extremely dominant in all aspects of her life in order to shut down Kylie’s gifts. Kylie’s aunt had been horrified to think that her young ward would have any abilities that would come in to question God’s will. Therefore, her aunt had been inclined to shoot it down very early. Only after several incidents did Kylie end up exploring it at all, and, even then, she felt nothing but fear because her aunt had been extremely violent in an effort to discipline the child.
Porter studied the young woman beside him. Kylie had honey-gold hair that fell in large ringlets, pulled into a ruthless bun at the back of her head right now, as she struggled to comprehend the changes that had just happened in her world. He’d seen more of her gift when he’d seen her drawings, and her gift had been unmistakable. He just didn’t realize that she had no clue about her gift, even as an adult. Stefan had been extremely vocal about Kylie’s abilities as a child, to the extent that neither Kylie nor her aunt wanted to deal with Stefan. Kylie’s aunt was afraid to even have Kylie around because Kylie’s gifts must have appeared at a very early age.
Up to this point Kylie had been able to keep them somewhat under control. However, the casino crime scene and the violence there was enough to shake up any veteran, including himself. So Porter hated to shake her up as badly as he was. Yet it was important because now they had a second killer—and this second killer would get away scot-free if somebody didn’t figure out who he was and what else he was up to.
And, yes, there was a chance that the first shooter had already taken down the second shooter, or vice versa, but Porter wasn’t so sure that was the case. It felt as if something sly, something deep and dark was involved in this case. This was not just the random shooting by somebody who had gone off his meds and had decided to destroy the world just because he could.
There were people like that all over the world, and, yes, in many instances they could do exactly what they threatened to do, but this case?… It didn’t feel that way. It didn’t have that same sensation. Definitely something was off about the whole thing, not that it would help Porter right now. What he really needed rather desperately was for Kylie to acknowledge what she could do to help them. But, from the looks of it, all she wanted to do was kick his sorry ass out the door. “Stefan says hello, by the way,” he added. She startled and frowned at him in shock. “He’s helping my sister,” Porter added.
“Good God,” she muttered, staring at him. “I’ll never be rid of that man, will I?”
He smiled. “Why would you want to be? He seems to add a bit of sanity in a world gone crazy.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know about that, but definitely nothing is easy about any of this.”
“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I thought anything would be easy,” he noted, “because I would agree with you that none of it is easy. Yet it doesn’t have to be all chaos and confusion.”
“It doesn’t?” she asked, with a mock smile. “Because that’s exactly what it feels like.”
“I’m sure it does. In fact, I’m sure that all this together just makes you want to roll up in a ball and cry.”
“I didn’t want to until I went to the casino,” she admitted, “and now I can’t get anything but that in my head.”
“I’m sorry, but it’ll be the same for all of us for a very long time.”
He saw the tears well up in her eyes, and he realized just how hard that would have been for a person as highly tuned and sensitive as she was. No way his sister could have gone into that casino. It would have torn her to shreds, and she would never have been able to stay calm or conscious through the entire assignment there. He loved her to bits, but she was so fragile in a world gone wrong, and she just didn’t do well where other people thrived. She could never do his job in any way, and she kept telling him that he was losing his soul to his work and that he needed to get out while he still could.
He wasn’t sure he even had an option to get out. It seemed as if that option was long gone, yet maybe it was just his own sadness and depression that brought it out.
“Why did the captain send you?” she asked abruptly.
“He didn’t,” he replied, Kylie just staring at him, trying to push back the tears still threatening to spill down her cheeks. “He didn’t send me at all tonight. I mentioned you a while back.” When she frowned at him, he shrugged. “There was just something very powerful about your artwork.”
“No,” she replied, “nothing is powerful about my artwork at all. It’s just me, crazy, uncontrollable me.” She stood and looked at him. “You need to leave now.”
Surprised by her sudden about-face, he rose and added, “You don’t have to keep hiding from your aunt anymore.”
Shocked, she stared at him and asked, “You investigated me?”
“It wasn’t hard,” he noted, “and I’m sorry for what happened to your family that put you in such a position, but again… that’s not your world. That’s not what you have to live in right now.”
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered, staring at him. “You think you know everything, but you don’t know anything at all.”
“Then tell me,” he urged. “Let somebody inside your world.”
“No. You’re just somebody else who wants to take advantage, and I have to protect myself from that at all costs.” She motioned him toward the front door.
He added, “It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“Yes, it absolutely does.”
Frowning, he made his way to her front door, which she opened all too quickly. There he stopped and whispered, “If you ever need a friend…”
She gave a startled laugh. “You aren’t a friend. At the moment, I don’t want to know if you’re an enemy either.”
And, with that, she shut the door in his face. He stood there on the front step for a long moment, wondering what he could or should do before slowly walking down the steps to his vehicle. He got in and sat there for a long moment. He never wanted to move, considering the way he left things, and just then Stefan called him.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m all right, but I can’t say I’ve ever had a meeting with somebody that went like that.”
“You went to see her anyway, didn’t you?” Stefan asked, with half a laugh.
“I’m not sure how to avoid it,” Porter noted. “That’s just too bizarre to walk away from.”
“I’m sure she didn’t appreciate it.”
“No, she sure didn’t, and basically ended up kicking me out,” he shared, with a sigh.
“Did she say anything about her sketches?”
“No, not anything that was helpful, but I think I got her thinking about some things at least.”
“Even that might help,” Stefan noted, with a chuckle. “She’s very powerful, but again she’s untrained, and, because she’s untrained, she also doesn’t have the proper boundaries around her. Instead she’s got the opposite, fears upon fears of what would happen if she crossed the line.”
“I saw that,” Porter shared, “and I saw her in the hospital, before she managed to get control and to present herself as someone the doctors were totally okay to release.”
“I’m not at all surprised. She is good at it, a coping mechanism she’s had to use her whole life.”
“And yet my sister didn’t know how to do that at all.”
“Your sister is very sensitive, and for her to manipulate her own personality in the ways required to get out of there were far too hard for her. She wasn’t nearly strong enough.”
“And yet Kylie did just fine. She is okay, right?”
“What do you think?” Stefan asked.
“I think she’s incredibly strong, but I think she’s also terrified.”
“And that is very true,” Stefan agreed. “So, you might get some cooperation from her, and you might not.”
“We need her,” Porter stated forcibly. “She definitely saw something.”
“Just because she saw something doesn’t mean she knows what she saw,” Stefan pointed out. “You’re talking to her like she’s a cop, and you can’t force a memory like that. Maybe she saw the person who changed the crime scene. Maybe she didn’t.”
“What if she did it herself?” he asked.
Stefan was shocked for a minute. “Are you thinking she was involved?”
“No, no, and yes.”
“That’s as clear as day,” Stefan replied thoughtfully.
“I know it’ll sound very strange, but what if she was following somebody else’s instructions?”
“That would be an interesting thing because you’re assuming she did it without anybody knowing or without even knowing herself.”
“Yes, that’s what I was wondering, if it were possible.”
“I suppose it’s possible, and we’ve certainly seen a lot of things happen that caught even the best us by surprise, but I don’t think Kylie would take kindly to such a suggestion.”
“No, I don’t imagine she would,” Porter acknowledged, “and that in itself is hard too.”
“Of course it is. But, all other topics aside, she’s a good person, with a good heart. Give her a chance, and she will come to you.”
“Yes, but will she come to me in time?” Porter asked.
“In time for what?” Stefan asked, his tone sharp. “You’ve already had the shooting. Aren’t you all collecting evidence and doing whatever needs to be done?”
“Sure, but this shooter, whoever he is, whether it’s one or both of them,… we both know he’s not done.”