“It’s just a theory. With so little evidence, everything is in play.”
No love lost here, Greening thought. Zo? must have made a real impression on these guys, as he didn’t feel they were giving her the benefit of the doubt. He could see Solis’s predicament and possible resentment. He had a case built on vapors. There was nothing solid for him to hang his investigation on. He didn’t have a crime scene, and he didn’t have a victim, per se, because everything hinged off a single, unreliable witness. Holli Buckner’s disappearance said something had happened that night, but without some other piece of evidence, the case had stalled.
“In light of a potential new victim, what’s your read now?”
“Nothing’s changed—yet.”
Greening smiled. “If I drove out there, do you think you could show me around?”
“Not sure that I can show you anything that would help your case, but you’re welcome to visit.”
Ogawa walked into the office, carrying a newspaper and a pissed-off expression. Greening thanked Solis and told him he’d be in touch.
Ogawa parked himself on the corner of the desk. “I’ve got good news and shit news.”
Greening leaned back in his seat. “Give me the good.”
“We have an ID on the Jane Doe—Laurie Hernandez. She made it easy for us. She has a rap sheet. Check her out for me.”
“And the shit news?”
Ogawa tossed the newspaper on Greening’s desk. “Someone talked, because the press has given him a name.”
Greening found the name easily in the story. Because he numbered his victims, they were calling him the Tally Man.
CHAPTER EIGHT
At Urban Paws, Marshall Beck was catching up with the morning news in his office. He scanned the headlines for updates on Laurie Hernandez. He didn’t expect the police to show their hand, but he did expect them to reveal a few case details to quell any public tension. As yet, the police hadn’t revealed Laurie Hernandez’s identity or that of his little runaway, Zo? Sutton. He found it interesting that the cops hadn’t revealed her name or said much about her. None of the network affiliate websites or SFGate.com had reported any updates on her breaking through the police cordon last night, and none of the police statements mentioned her. He took their radio silence as a sign they believed her. She’d persuaded them that she was of value. A tingle of fear passed through him, but he knew he had nothing to worry about. She couldn’t tell them anything. If she’d been able, the police would have tracked him down long ago.
SFGate.com might not have mentioned Zo?, but they did mention him—by nickname. Inspired by the numbers he’d carved into the women, the press was now calling him the Tally Man.
Talentless hacks, he thought. They’d boiled down what he did to a catchy moniker to sell more newspapers. With unimaginative thinking like that, no wonder journalism is in the state it is.
He reined in his contempt. As much as the dumb label irritated him, the revelation that someone had worked out his marking system irritated him more. The Tally Man name was a journalistic invention, but he had his doubts they’d figured out his numerals. That was a police discovery, which meant the SFPD had leaked the numbering of the punished to the press. He didn’t think that was smart of them. Now he knew they were on to him and his point of view. No matter, though; it wouldn’t change anything. He would keep on numbering the punished. Now that it had been revealed, maybe the public would understand what he was doing.
He smelled Kristi Thomas’s perfume a second before she leaned over his shoulder. He hated it when she did that. He didn’t like people invading his space. It was a minor irritation, not serious enough to earn her a number. The woman had dedicated her life to saving animals, after all.
“Isn’t it terrible what happened to that woman?” Kristi said.
“Yes, terrible.”
“They say she was flogged and branded.”
They. What trash. The unnamed sources always knew more than anyone. He hadn’t branded anyone.
“Have the cops worked out who she was?” Kristi asked.
“No, not yet. Can I help you with something?”
“It’s that time of the month—payroll,” she said with a smile. “Is it ready for me to sign off on?”
“Not yet. By lunchtime.”
“Lunchtime.” She nudged him with her elbow, which he didn’t like. “You’re slipping.”
A cacophony of barking exploded throughout the center. It was angry and hostile. Kristi raced out of the room. Beck chased after her.
Dogs in the viewing areas barked in their pens, but that wasn’t the epicenter of the commotion. That was coming from the Assessment Annex. It sounded as if a war had broken out in there. Beck’s thoughts turned to Brando. Had he been provoked?
Kristi pounded on the door. “Is everything OK in there?”
She was smart. If one of the fighting dogs had gotten free, the last thing she could afford to do was let it loose in the visitors’ area.