“What?”
“Her twenty-two. We had it in custody downstairs.”
“Really?”
“Really. But still can’t run a ballistics test without probable cause. I tell you those constitutional rights are making our job more difficult every day.” D.D. continued to stare down at the notes, frowning.
Rosalind Grant. Carter Grant. Charlene Rosalind Carter Grant.
Why those names? What was Charlene trying to say?
“I like her,” she murmured. “Who knew, but I actually like the girl, and would prefer not to arrest her for murder.”
Detective O sat back, steepling her hands in front of her. “Want to hand over the case? I could take the lead.”
D.D. nearly laughed. “What, don’t they keep you busy enough in sex crimes? First you want on the case, now you want to lead it.”
“I take my responsibilities seriously.”
“And I’m a slacker?”
“Well…you have other obligations now.”
“Is that the politically correct way of saying I’m a working mom?”
“Fact of life: Baby’s gotta get picked up when the baby’s gotta get picked up.”
“Another fact of life: The trick to this job isn’t working hard, it’s working smart.”
“Is that a politically correct way of saying I’m not as experienced as you?”
“Yes.”
Detective O opened her mouth. Detective O closed her mouth.
“Touché,” she said at last.
“Let’s review.” D.D. forced her gaze off the wall clock and back on her upstart new partner. “Charlene Rosalind Carter Grant. Obviously knows where the second victim, Stephen Laurent, lives, as I found her in the neighborhood. Has a permit for a twenty-two, same caliber as the murder weapon, and has stated she can hit a bull’s-eye at fifty feet.”
“Physically fit,” O supplied. “Also tiny, nonthreatening. If a pedophile opened his door to her, he wouldn’t automatically assume the worst.”
“Relatively young,” D.D. continued. “And with an almost childlike build. Even more reason for perverts not to slam the door right away.”
“She would have ability to research pedophiles through her police dispatch job. Maybe hear about them on the scanner or via incoming calls, but also, she can log on to police databases, registered sex offender lists.”
“Access to information would not be a problem,” D.D. agreed.
“And in terms of the profile developed by the graphologist—”
“Our daily dose of quack.”
“She fits the requirements of being anal-retentive.”
“Though I appreciate the help with my pictures.”
“Definitely a bit of a control freak. What’s the deal with the hair anyway? She’s not just wearing a ponytail, she’s basically seized the strands in a choke hold. And none shall ever escape.”
“Very controlled hairdo, but very sloppy clothing. Oversized, baggy. Maybe her way of trying to look larger and tougher than she really is?”
“Pretty blue eyes,” O commented. “Hair down, better clothes, she could talk her way into most men’s apartments, pedophiles or not.”
“But would she leave the puppy?” D.D. asked.
“Pardon?”
“In Stephen Laurent’s apartment. The killer left a young puppy to fend for itself. It’s one thing to kill a suspected pervert. It’s another to abandon a puppy without food or water. Charlene must have some sympathy for dogs, as it appears she’s adopted a street mutt. So would she leave the puppy behind?”
“Calculated gamble. Odds are the victim’s body will be found soon versus later, and the puppy rescued.”
“Possible,” D.D. said, but the detail bothered her. Felt not as right to her as the other variables.
“She suffered abuse as a kid,” O continued, “making it easy for her to identify with the victims.”