“It’s an apartment building, and you don’t have any children living here?”
He frowned, studied the hallway, as if mentally clicking through his renters, and said, “I’m not so sure there is right now. In the past we certainly have, but it’s an older building, and there aren’t any amenities for kids.”
“That just means the lower-income families could live here,” she said.
“He came with references, and I was asked to take him in, so I did,” he said. “This isn’t on me.”
“Who asked you to take him in?”
He hesitated.
“A preeminent psychologist, by any chance?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said, answering with relief. “I figured, if he came with that kind of reference, he was good to go.”
“Except in this case, it was a family member,” she said.
He looked at her in shock. “What?”
“His twin sister,” she said. “Have you ever seen him around any children?”
“No, I haven’t. Look. To be honest, he’s been quiet, stays out of trouble, and hasn’t been an issue.”
“Does he have a storage locker?”
“Everybody does. Downstairs,” he said. “They’re allowed to do pretty much whatever they want with that space.”
“What number is his?”
“Just a minute.” When he came back, he said, “Eighty-four.”
“How do I get into it?”
“I can lead you there,” he said. Then he took her down a set of stairs, followed along the main hallway here, a series of plywood-looking cages on each side. “His is at the far end,” he said.
She followed him to the locker in question to see it was mostly sealed up. She noted the lock on it, looked at him, and asked, “Do you have a key?”
“No,” he said. “This is their private property.”
She nodded, pulled the pick from her back pocket, and popped it open in seconds.
“You do have a warrant, right?” he asked nervously. “I can’t let you do this if you don’t.”
“Yes, of course I do,” she said. She jerked up on one of the metal gates and pulled open the door. Then she stopped. Turning, she faced him and said, “Please go back to your apartment, and stay there for further questioning.”
He looked at her, then tried to peek into the storage locker, but she stepped into his view.
“Now!” she snapped.
He looked at her resentfully, shrugged, and said, “Fine. But I’ve done everything you’ve asked. None of this is on me.”
She watched him leave, then turned to look at the storage locker. They might not have anything on the apartment manager, but this sure as hell put some things on the pedophile’s shoulders. The space contained children’s toys, clothes, beds, and all kinds of paraphernalia that went along with having children. Only this guy had no children. So what in the hell had he used all this stuff for? And where?
*
Thursday, Almost Noon
As days went,Simon felt pretty damn good about this one. He didn’t dare contact her, but he felt too good about the night they’d spent together to not be thinking about her. He went about his business from jobsite to jobsite, happy that, for once, things were moving along and functioning well. For a little while he could put all the nastiness behind him. When his phone rang, he looked at it, realized it was almost noon. “Yale, what’s up?”