Thorne’s stomach roiled just looking at them. ‘Yeah. How did you know?’
‘Because they look rich,’ she murmured. ‘Like the tourists that used to hire my father to take them crabbing in the summer.’
Thorne was surprised. Gwyn rarely mentioned her family, and never her father. There was bad history there and she’d never told him what had happened. Whatever it was, she’d run away from home at sixteen.
‘Your father was a crabber?’ Phil asked curiously.
She nodded once. ‘Folks like the Lindens would come from the city to play for the day, dressed in clothes that cost more than my family made in a year, snapping their fingers like we were their servants.’ One side of her mouth lifted as she tapped Richard’s face. ‘He looks like Draco Malfoy.’
Thorne found himself chuckling, because Richard did resemble the bully from the Harry Potter stories. ‘We just called him Richie Rich.’
Both sides of Gwyn’s mouth had tipped up when he’d chuckled. ‘And Richard’s father? Was he as bad as Draco’s papa in the book?’
‘Worse.’ Phil was unsmiling, his whole body gone tight. ‘He testified against Thorne. Painted his little darling Richard to be such a martyr. Painted Thorne to be a . . .’ he swallowed hard, ‘a hardened criminal who would kill without remorse. He fabricated threats that he claimed Thorne made to his son in his presence. Linden Senior sat on the stand and lied without blinking an eye, except to dash away a crocodile tear.’
Gwyn bit her lip again. ‘He perjured himself? Why? I mean, I get that he wanted justice for his son, but was the prosecution’s case so thin that he thought he had to lie to make sure the jury found Thorne guilty? Or was he unbalanced?’
‘More the first one,’ Jamie said. ‘The case should never have gone to trial to begin with. The state’s case was weak, but the police commissioner and the prosecutor pushed it through. Nobody wanted to make enemies of the Lindens.’
Gwyn looked up from the photo. ‘But they had enemies? Other than Thorne?’
‘I’m sure they did,’ Jamie said. ‘You’re wondering who else had a motive to kill Richard? I pressed that back then, but hit a brick wall every time I turned around. Linden wanted Thorne found guilty and he did not want anyone else even considered. Yes, I thought it suspicious back then, but no, I couldn’t find anyone who’d talk to me.’
‘But,’ Phil added, ‘maybe someone will be willing to talk now.’
‘Who’s on your list?’ Thorne asked, more out of curiosity than any real hope. The chances of getting to the bottom of a nineteen-year-old murder were slim to none.
The look Phil gave him was mildly reproving, like he knew exactly what Thorne was thinking. ‘The detective who worked the case, for starters. Prew is his name.’
Gwyn blinked at them, surprised. ‘You suspected the cops were complicit?’
‘Not Prew,’ Phil said. ‘But he’s a good place to start because he might be able to shed light on Linden Senior’s enemies. Jamie hit a brick wall, but Prew may have found something.’
‘Makes sense,’ she said, leaning toward Phil to see his list. ‘Who else?’
Phil glanced at Thorne and pointed to the next name. ‘The young woman you tried to defend the day everything started. Angie Ospina. Also Richard’s three friends who beat you up because you forced him to stop groping her.’
Thorne’s gut churned. None of these were people he ever wanted to see again. ‘I have no idea where they are. Any of them.’
‘I do,’ Phil said. ‘Some of them, anyway. Detective Prew has just retired from Montgomery County PD. He’s expecting us tomorrow. He’s invited us for coffee.’
‘You called him already?’ Thorne asked, surprised.
‘I called him as soon as I heard Patricia was the victim,’ Phil said. ‘I had time in the waiting room and not much else to do except worry. Plus, I’ve known Prew for years. He’s not a bad guy. I taught one of his sons. Not at Ridgewell Academy, but later, when I went to the next school. Another of his sons is a history teacher today, so we’ve kept up too. He has two sons of his own now. Twins, just about a year old. Expect the detective to take a few moments to show us photos of his grandchildren.’
‘All right,’ Thorne said. ‘What about Angie?’
‘I don’t know where she is,’ Phil said. ‘I’m hoping Prew will know.’
‘And the assholes who beat Thorne up?’ Gwyn asked sharply. Thorne had to smile at her fierce loyalty, despite the hollowness in his chest.
Phil pulled another piece of paper from the stack on the table. ‘We found two of them. Darian Hinman is the VP of his father’s shipping business.’
‘Of course,’ Thorne said bitterly, clearly remembering the boy Hinman had been.
Phil shrugged. ‘Old money, Thomas. You know it exists and the privilege it allows.’
‘Hey,’ Jamie said with mock outrage. ‘I’m old money.’
Thorne’s mouth bent up. ‘Most of which you give away.’
Jamie waved that statement aside. ‘Let’s withhold judgment on young Hinman until we meet him. Maybe he’s grown up.’ Because Jamie himself had. He’d been an impetuous youth. Some of that was natural rebellion, but a lot had been a need to press his physical limits past the chair he’d used since he’d been old enough to sit up.
Phil looked unconvinced at his optimism. ‘We’ll see. Friend number two, Chandler Nystrom, is now a cop.’
Thorne’s mouth fell open. ‘No fucking way. He was a thug, the worst of them.’ He gritted his teeth, knowing full well that some cops sought the job for specifically that reason. They wanted to be legal thugs.
‘Hopefully he grew up too,’ Phil said philosophically, ‘otherwise he’s a thug with a badge and a gun.’
‘And the third?’ Gwyn asked.
‘Colton Brandenberg,’ Thorne said quietly. ‘I never knew what to make of him. I remember being surprised that he’d thrown any punches at all. He seemed so gentle when he wasn’t with Richard. You don’t have a location for him?’
Phil shook his head. ‘No, not yet. Again, I’m hoping Detective Prew has some ideas.’
Thorne pulled the other folder closer. ‘This is your file, Jamie?’
‘So far. Mostly I just have the photos that Gwyn took. I don’t expect to see anything from Lieutenant Hyatt regarding the official crime scene photos unless you’re formally charged. So, again, good job, Gwyn. If you hadn’t been so quick-thinking, we wouldn’t have shit right now.’
Thorne opened the folder and spread the enlarged photos across the table, wincing a little at the sight of his own bare ass. ‘They just had to strip me,’ he complained.
‘Well, you were supposed to have had a woman in your bed,’ Gwyn said.
Thorne glanced up and saw no accusation in her dark eyes. No anger. She believed him and he was grateful for that. ‘Yeah, well,’ he muttered, ‘they could have left me a little modesty, for God’s sake.’
She pulled one of the photos closer, grimacing. ‘Whoever did this didn’t just stab her. They cut her open.’
‘You don’t need to look at those.’ Jamie started to take the photo from her, but she rolled her eyes at him.
‘I took the photos, Jamie. I saw her live.’ She winced. ‘Or dead. Plus, I was Thorne’s paralegal, don’t forget. I’ve seen worse than this. Unfortunately.’ But then she frowned. ‘Thorne, what’s this?’ Rising from her chair, she pushed the photo toward him, leaning across the table as she followed it. ‘It’s . . . I don’t know what it is. I didn’t notice it this morning.’
Thorne looked where she pointed. And his blood ran cold. ‘Phil.’ He had to clear his throat. ‘Do . . . do you still have that magnifying glass you use for coupons?’
Phil got up to rummage in a drawer, retrieving the magnifier and handing it to Thorne without a word.
Hand trembling, Thorne placed the glass over the photo and shuddered out a breath. ‘Motherfucking sonofabitch,’ he said quietly, then looked at Jamie. ‘It’s a medal. And a key.’
Jamie’s eyes went wide. ‘What the fuck?’ He lurched from his chair to grab the photo and magnifier before sliding back to sit. ‘Holy shit,’ he murmured.