Lena patted him down, asking, "I'm not going to find any needles, am I? Nothing that would hurt me?"

Gordon groaned, "No," as she reached into his front pocket.

Lena smiled, pulling out a bag of white powder. "This isn't sugar, is it?" she asked Jeffrey.

He took the bag, surprised that she had found it. This would certainly explain Gordon's appearance. Drug addicts weren't the most conscientious groomers in the world. For the first time that morning, Jeffrey was glad to have Lena around. He would never have thought to frisk the boy.

Gordon glanced over his shoulder, looking at the bag. "These aren't my pants."

"Right," Lena snapped. Spinning Gordon around, she asked, "When was the last time you saw Julia Matthews?"

Gordon's face registered his thoughts. He obviously knew where this was leading. The powder was the least of his problems. "We broke up a month ago."

"That doesn't answer the question," Lena said. She repeated, "When was the last time you saw Julia Matthews?"

Gordon crossed his arms in front of his chest. Jeffrey realized instantly that he had mishandled this whole thing. Nerves and excitement had gotten the better of him. In his mind, Jeffrey said the words that Gordon spoke aloud.

"I want to talk to a lawyer."

Jeffrey propped his feet on the table in front of his chair. They were in the interview room, waiting for Ryan Gordon to be processed. Unfortunately, Gordon had kept his mouth closed tighter than a steel trap from the minute Lena read him his rights. Luckily, Gordons roommate at the dorms had been more than happy to allow a search. This had yielded nothing more suspicious than a pack of rolling papers and a mirror with a razor blade lying on top of it. Jeffrey wasn't sure, but judging from the roommate, the drug paraphernalia could have belonged to either boy. A search of the lab where Gordon worked did not add any additional clues to the pot. The best-case scenario was Julia Matthews had realized what an asshole her boyfriend was and split.

"We fucked up," Jeffrey said, resting his hand on a copy of the Grant County Observer.

Lena nodded. "Yeah."

He took a deep breath and let it go. "I suppose a kid like that would've lawyered up anyway."

"I don't know," Lena answered. "Maybe he watches too much TV."

Jeffrey should have expected this. Any idiot with a television knew to ask for a lawyer when the cops showed up at your door.

"I could have been a little softer," she countered. "Obviously, if he's our guy, he wouldn't exactly be happy to have a woman pushing him around." She gave a humorless laugh. "Especially me, looking just like her."

"Maybe that'll work some in our favor," he offered. "What about I leave you two alone here while we wait for Buddy Conford?"

"He got Buddy?" Lena asked, her tone indicating her displeasure. There were a handful of lawyers in Grant who took on public defender work for a reduced fee. Of them all, Buddy Conford was the most tenacious.

"He's on the rotation this month," Jeffrey said. "You think Gordon's stupid enough to talk?"

"He's never been arrested before. He doesn't strike me as particularly savvy."

Jeffrey was silent, waiting for her to continue.

"He's probably pretty pissed at me for slapping him," she said, and he could see her working out an approach in her mind. "Why don't you help me set it up? Tell me not to talk to him."

Jeffrey nodded. "It might work."

"Couldn't hurt."

Jeffrey was silent, staring at the table. Finally he tapped his finger on the front page of the paper. A picture of Sibyl Adams took up most of the space above the fold. "I guess you saw this?"

She nodded, not looking at the photo.

Jeffrey turned the paper over. "It doesn't say she was raped, but they hint at it. I told them she was beaten, but she wasn't."

"I know," she mumbled. "I read it."

"Frank and the guys," Jeffrey began, "they haven't found anything solid from the known offender list. There were a couple Frank wanted to look at seriously, but nothing panned out. They both had alibis."

Lena stared at her hands.

Jeffrey said, "You can leave after this. I know you probably need to get some things together for tonight."

Her acquiescence surprised him. "Thank you."

A knock came at the door, then Brad Stephens poked his head in. "I've got your guy out here."

Jeffrey stood, saving, "Bring him in."

Ryan Gordon looked even more puny in the orange jailhouse jumper than he had in his black jeans and shirt. His feet shuffled in the matching orange slippers, and his hair was still wet from the hosing down Jeffrey had ordered. Gordons hands were cuffed behind his back, and Brad handed Jeffrey the key before leaving.

"Where's my lawyer?" Gordon demanded.

"He should be here in about fifteen minutes," Jeffrey answered, pushing the kid down into a chair. He unlocked the handcuffs, but before Gordon could move his arms he had cuffed him back through the rungs of the chair.

"That's too tight," Gordon whined, pushing his chest out to exaggerate his discomfort. He pulled at the chair, but his hands stayed tight behind him.

"Live with it," Jeffrey muttered, then said to Lena, "I'm going to leave you in here with him. Don't let him say anything off-the-record, do you hear me?"

Lena cast her eyes down. "Yes, sir."

"I mean it, Detective." He gave her what he hoped was a stern look, then walked out of the room. Jeffrey took the next door down, entering the observation room. He stood with his arms crossed, watching Gordon and Lena through the one-way glass.

The interview room was relatively small with painted cement blocks for walls. A table was bolted to the center of the floor with three chairs spread around it. Two on one side, one on the other. Jeffrey watched Lena pick up the newspaper. She propped her feet up on the table, leaning the chair back a little as she opened the Grant County Observer to an inside page. Jeffrey heard the speaker next to him crackle as she folded the paper along the seam.

Gordon said, "I want some water."

"Don't talk," Lena ordered, her voice so low Jeffrey had to turn up the speaker on the wall to hear her.

"Why? You gonna get in trouble?"

Lena kept her nose in the paper.

"You should get in trouble," Gordon said, leaning over as much as he could in the chair. "I'm gonna tell my lawyer you slapped me."

Lena snorted a laugh. "What do you weigh, one fifty? You're about five six?" She put the paper down, giving him a soft, innocent expression. Her voice was high-pitched and girlish. "I would never hit a suspect in custody, Your Honor. He's so big and strong, I'd be afraid for my life."

Gordon's eyes narrowed to slits. "You think you're pretty funny."

"Yeah," Lena said, returning to the paper. "I really do."

Gordon took a minute or two to refigure his approach. He pointed to the newspaper. "You're that dyke's sister."

Lena's voice was still light, though Jeffrey knew she must have wanted to climb over the table and kill him. She said, "That's right."

"She got killed," he said. "Everybody on campus knew she was a dyke."

"She certainly was."

Gordon licked his lips. "Fucking dyke."

"Yep." Lena turned the page, looking as if she was bored.

"Dyke," he repeated. "Fucking clit licker." He paused, waiting for a reaction, obviously irritated that there was none. He said, "Gash grinder."

Lena gave a bored sigh. "Bushwhacker, eats at the Y, dials O on her friend's little pink telephone." She paused, looking at him over the paper, asking, "Leaving any out?"

While Jeffrey felt an appreciation for Lena's technique, he said a small prayer of thanks that she had not chosen a life of crime.

Gordon said, "That's what you've got me in here for, right? You think I raped her?"