Page 50 of All He Takes
"Harold?" Nicky asked. "Harold, look at me."
He didn't look up. He just kept staring at his lap.
"Harold?" Ken asked. "Hey, Harold, if this is another lie, you're going to get arrested and go to prison. Four people are dead. Four people. You could be going to prison for a long time, Harold. A long time. We're going to arrest you in a minute. Think about that."
Harold just sat there, motionless. "Call Adaline. I'll give you her number and address. Call her."
"Oh, we'll be talking to her," Ken said.
"Call her right now," Harold said, lifting his head and looking at Nicky. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like he might cry again. "Call her, so you can confirm it. Then I'll tell you anything you want to know."
Nicky said nothing--only turned around and opened the door.
Harold Smith was a piece of shit. But if his alibi checked out, then he wasn't the killer.
Which meant the real killer was still out there, prowling the streets--maybe hunting his next victim.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Nicky sat in the briefing room at the police station, rubbing her temples in frustration.
Harold Smith's story--as nasty as it was--checked out. Adaline Jones confirmed his alibi. Adaline herself had confessed to her husband, who had confirmed he'd been suspicious for a while, as he worked nights, just like Harold's wife.
Unless Adaline and Harold were conspiring to kill innocent women--which seemed highly ludicrous--then Harold Smith was not their guy.
They'd had no choice but to let him go. Cheating on a wife wasn't a crime. Being a horrible father wasn't a crime. As much as Nicky sometimes wished it could be, these things were just… terrible things that happened sometimes.
The entire thing left a bad taste in her mouth, but she had bigger problems. It was inching closer to one a.m., she was growing tired, and they now had no leads.
She didn't believe this guy was just going to go to sleep and move on with his life. No, at the rate these murders were escalating, Nicky felt sure he'd already have a new subject for his photography--or he was out hunting someone at this very moment.
They needed another lead. They needed anything.
Just then, the door opened, and Nicky looked up to see Ken walking in, the phone to his ear. "Okay... okay, and there's nothing suspicious? Good. Let us know if anything comes up."
Nicky watched as Ken hung up the phone. He let out a sigh and briefly locked eyes with her before sitting down.
"Any news?" Nicky asked.
"The other Harolds seem clean," Ken said. "The officers have nothing to suggest they're involved, and they seem to have solid alibis for the placement of the body."
Damn it. Nicky had thought she'd been onto something with the Harold Smith/Smithson theory, but what if she was wrong? Three men had been cleared now... and here she was, with no other lead to follow down.
"Maybe I was wrong about the name thing," Nicky said. "Maybe it's not somebody named Harold Smith or Smithson."
"It's a lead, though," Ken said. "It's the only lead we have right now. You can't just let it go."
"I'm not letting it go," Nicky said. "I'm just saying--maybe I've been looking at this wrong."
She thought back to what Dr. Graham had said. Nicky did tend to focus too much on one thing. But the name seemed like the ticket.
Maybe it still was... but maybe they were looking at it the wrong way.
She thought of Charles Dumond, the antique store owner, and his new identity. His real name was Richard Fanson, and yet he'd changed his name.
Maybe Harold Smith or Smithson was someone else's name?
Nicky's mind raced down this rabbit hole of thinking. Maybe he was paying homage to someone else named Harold Smith, or maybe he was related to a person with that name? Some other, less obvious way of leaving his mark on the crimes? Nicky wasn't sure... she knew that all of this had to do with art, and photography, and antiques. All of these were hints at the killer's identity. And so were the names.
