Suddenly he was anxious to get home. He had a reason to see Ashley.
As he drove, he called Blake, letting the captain know his intentions and receiving a reminder that he wasn’t working the case alone, and that Blake wanted every step of his investigation duly noted on his report. He admitted to Blake that the call might have been a hoax, but if so, it had been a hoax perpetrated at the prison. And if it was real, it seemed that Bordon was afraid of everyone except for his confidant. Either way, Blake agreed that he had to go.
As soon as he finished his conversation with Blake, who had been in the middle of algebra homework with his daughter, Jake called the prison and made arrangements to see Bordon privately first thing in the morning.
Bordon held the key. He knew it.
Hours of interrogation had never made the man give up his secrets. Threats of the death penalty, of years of incarceration, had never made him break his silence. Oddly, now, the prospect of being free had made him willing to talk.
Jake felt his palms grow damp as he drove. He wondered if he would be able to keep his hands off the man if Bordon admitted his complicity in the murders of the young women.
And Nancy.
Ashley had thought she was so tired that she could go to sleep without even getting ready for bed. But instead, her mind was racing. Restless, she rose. Tonight, of all nights, when she was anxious to question Sharon, she and Nick were out doing the town. She couldn’t get hold of David Wharton, and Karen still wasn’t home or returning any calls.
She called the hospital and asked about Stuart’s condition, which was unchanged. She tried calling David Wharton again but got no answer. As she hung up, it occurred to her that Jake might have learned something.
And even if he hadn’t, the night would still be better if she could see him.
She let herself out by the door that led to the docks, looking down the line of boats to Jake’s Gwendolyn. She hesitated, then crossed the little patch of sand and grass to the docks, scissored over the ropes and headed down the dock. She hesitated when she saw that Jake’s cabin door was ajar.
“Jake?”
The door opened fully. She recognized the man coming out. The case he was carrying was familiar, as well. She had met him during her whirlwind tour of forensics the other day. His name was Skip Conrad, and he was a fingerprint expert.
He saw her as she walked over to the boat. “Hey, Ashley,” he said a little awkwardly. “You live here, too, huh?”
“Nick is my uncle.”
“Nick is your uncle?” He was a slim man, with thinning brown hair, dimples and a boyish look, despite the shiny circle on his pate. “Go figure. I didn’t know Nick’s last name was Montague.”
“Well, the signs do just say ‘Nick’s,’” she said with a smile. “You’re working late. Very late. You’re usually day shift, right? You dusted Jake’s boat for prints?”
“Not officially,” he said.
She smiled. Maybe she was paranoid, but so was Jake Dilessio—and he was a seasoned homicide detective. “I know he thought someone had been on the boat. He’s a friend.”
“Jake’s a friend of mine, too,” Skip said with a shrug. “No matter what he’s got going, he takes time if someone else is in trouble, so…well, I figured helping him unofficially was the least I could do.” He shrugged again. “Can’t say as how I’m really going to help him, though. I didn’t get much of anything. Looked as if everything on his desk had been pretty carefully wiped clean—which is what I think he suspected. I’ve got a few prints, but I bet good money that they’re going to prove to be Jake’s.”
“Well, anyway, helping him out is good of you.”
“Yeah?” He looked relieved that she apparently didn’t intend to tell anyone else at headquarters what he’d been up to. “Since you live here, you can give Jake back his key for me, right?”
“Sure.”
“Actually, will you lock her up for me, too?”
“No problem.”
“Well…good to see you.” The way he looked at her as he handed her the key, she wasn’t sure he was glad to have seen her at all.
“Nice to see you, too, Mr. Conrad.”
He grinned then. “Actually, I am ‘Officer’ Conrad. But call me Skip.”
“You went all the way through the academy before getting into the forensics department?”
He shook his head, offering a rueful grin. “I hopped into this position the first opportunity I had. When I became an expert everyone seemed to need, I finished up my studies. You’ll do it, too. And congratulations. I hear we’ve hired Rembrandt.”
“I’m not that good,” she assured him.
“Well, we’re glad to have you anyway. Good night.”
He waved and walked off the boat and down the dock. Ashley turned to lock up, then took a look inside the cabin and winced. Fingerprinting was a messy exercise. She hesitated, then decided that she should clean up.
She wondered if he would be angry that she was invading his realm.