Page 97 of An Evil Heart
“He deserved it.” I take another sip of rye, thankful for the burn this time, and the pleasant buzz pressing into my brain.
His gaze latches on to mine. “You don’t think he did it.”
“I don’t like Vernon Fisher. I think he’s a rapist and a smug little son of a bitch.” I sigh. “Tomasetti, I don’t think he murdered Aden Karn or Paige Rossberger.”
“Do you have someone else in mind?”
“I wish I did.”
He considers a moment. “The crossbow bolts are pretty damning, especially if they contain Karn’s DNA.”
“I know. And I can’t ignore that. I won’t. But it would have been incredibly stupid for Fisher to hide those bolts at his residence when he could have shot them into the woods, burned them, or even buried them.”
“You think someone planted them?”
“All I’m saying is that this was way too easy.” I look down at my tumbler of rye, think about refilling it. “That’s not to mention the fact that all of this came to fruition on the basis of an anonymous tip.”
His gaze sharpens on mine. “Any chance you can get any info on the caller?”
“Our phone system isn’t exactly cutting-edge. Believe it or not, that might work to our advantage in this case. We might be able to ascertainwhere the call originated. Margaret is working on it. Even then, the information may or may not be helpful.”
“I don’t have to tell you Rasmussen wants to run with Fisher.”
“Considering the amount of evidence against him, and everything we know about him, I think we should.” I wrap my hands around the glass, twirl the amber liquid inside. “But I don’t think we should close the investigation just yet. Does that make me crazy?”
“Crazy like a fox, maybe. There’s something to be said for a cop following her gut.”
“That’s kind of noncommittal,” I say. “You’re not a noncommittal kind of guy.”
“I like Fisher for this, Kate.”
“Do you think he murdered Paige Rossberger?”
He considers a moment. “You have all those young males out there, drinking every night, probably doing drugs, looking for trouble. According to Emily Byler, things get out of control on a regular basis. So one night, one of them calls a hooker. She shows up. There’s a disagreement. An argument ensues. Things get physical.” He grimaces. “It wouldn’t be the first time a woman in a vulnerable position paid the price.”
“I think someone planted those bolts. Someone not opposed to seeing Fisher fry.”
“Then you should follow your gut. Fisher is in custody; he’s not going anywhere. I sure as hell don’t have any sympathy for the guy.”
“It just feels a little too… tidy.” I reach for the bottle of rye and splash another two fingers into my glass. “I hope I’m wrong. I’m pretty good at that sometimes.”
Setting down his tumbler, Tomasetti takes both of my hands in his, waits until I look at him. “You’ve got good instincts, Kate. Follow them. Look at every piece. Shake it up. Mix it up. Turn it inside out. Do whatyou need to do because if you’re not one hundred percent convinced we’ve got the right guy, it’s going to eat at you.”
“I guess you know me pretty well.”
“Just between us, Ilikeyou pretty well, too.” Rising, he pulls me to my feet.
I smile at him and for an instant I feel like a fool because my vision blurs with tears. “You don’t agree with me and yet you’re telling me to pursue what I believe is right.”
“That sort of goes with the I-like-you part.”
I go to him, fall against him, put my arms around his shoulders. “I don’t make it easy, do I?”
“Well…”
Playfully, I punch his shoulder. “In three days, we’ll be married.”
“You’re not getting cold feet again, are you?”
