Page 25

When Jalbert arrives at the Manitou police station the next morning—fresh pair of dad jeans, fresh shirt, same lucky black coat—he sees Ella Davis waiting for him on the front step, smoking a cigarette.

When she sees him coming, she drops it and steps on the butt.

She thinks of telling him he looks tired, rejects the idea, and instead asks him what he knows about Coughlin’s truck.

“Clean,” Jalbert says, and sets his briefcase down between his sensible black shoes.

“Which means we’ve got a little more work to do.”

“It could also mean Yvonne Wicker wasn’t his first.

Have you thought of that?”

Of course he has.

Serials often botch their first one, but if they’re not caught they learn from their mistakes.

He could tell Davis there was no bleach residue in the truck, meaning Coughlin didn’t use it to clean up blood, other fluid, or touch DNA, but the idea doesn’t cross his mind because it doesn’t matter.

Coughlin did her.

The dream story was either a half-assed effort to show off—like an arsonist showing up to help fight the fire he started, as Davis said—or because the guilt has gotten too much for him and he wants to confess.

Jalbert thinks the latter, and will be happy to help him in that regard.

“Miss Yvonne stayed at a shelter in Arkansas City on the night of May 31st,” Jalbert says.

“Her signature is in their ledger.

Next morning she buys coffee and a sausage biscuit at a Gas-n-Go near the intersection of I-35 and… help me.”

“State Road 166,” Davis says.

“She’s on the security video.

Big as life.

Clerk saw her picture in the Oklahoman and called it in.

Gold star for him.”

Jalbert nods.

“June 1st, just past eight AM.

Off she goes to hitch a ride on 35.

And that’s the last time anyone saw Miss Yvonne until Coughlin drives out to Gunnel and reports the body.

We together so far?”

Davis nods.

“So when we question Coughlin, we have to ask him where he was and what he was doing between the 1st of June and the 24th, when he made that call.”

“He’ll say he doesn’t remember.

Which is reasonable.

It’s only on TV that people remember where they were.

If you asked me where I was on June 5th… or the 10th… I couldn’t tell you.

Not for sure.”

“He punches a clock at the high school where he works, that takes care of some of the time.”

She starts to say something and he raises those two fingers to cut her off.

“I know what you’re thinking, a time-clock doesn’t know what you do after you punch in, but he’s got those two boys working for him.

We’ll talk to them.

See if he left them on their own for a few hours, or even a whole day.”

Davis takes a notebook out of her big bag and begins to scribble in it.

Without looking up she says, “School was still in the first week of June.

I checked the calendar online.

Plenty of people will have seen him, if he was there.”

“We’re going to talk to everyone,” Jalbert says.

“Just you and me, Ella.

Find out as much as we can about where he was during those three weeks.

Find out where the holes are.

The inconsistencies.

Are you up for that?”

“Yes.”

“That’s if he doesn’t confess this morning, which I have a feeling he might do.”

“Only one thing bothers me,” Davis says.

“How he looked when you told him the perp left semen.

What I saw on his face—and his body, that too—was relief.

Gladness, almost.

He couldn’t wait to give me a cheek swab.”

Jalbert raises his hands, palms out, as if to physically push the idea away.

“Why would he worry about DNA? He knew it was a bluff because he put on a prophylactic before he raped her.”

She says nothing, but there’s a look on her face that makes him frown. “What?”

“It was relief,” she repeats.

“Like he didn’t know about the rubber.

Like he thought a DNA compare might really let him off the hook.”

Jalbert laughs.

“Some of these bad boys are exceptional actors.

Ted Bundy had a girlfriend.

Dennis Rader fooled his own wife.

For years.”

“I suppose, but he wasn’t very clever about the burner he used, was he?”

The frown reappears.

“Come on, Ella, he wanted us to find him.

Now are we going to get justice for Miss Yvonne this morning?”

She considers this.

Jalbert has been an investigator with KBI for twenty years.

She’s been an inspector for five.

She trusts his instincts.

Plus the story of the dream is such obvious bullshit.

“We are.”

He pats her on the shoulder.

“That’s it, partner.

You hold that thought.”