“It’s more a counteroffensive. Give the press something to write about with quotable sound bites, so that the more expansive story takes a few days to coalesce. The scene itself, with the vehicles smashing through the gate and wall, gives them dramatic visuals. They’ll run with the stolen-vehicles angle as part of the lead.”
The humor in her faded, and David knew why, simply nodded. “I appreciate the light touch, but it’s okay. I know much of what happened to get us to this point. Lay out for me what’s known.”
Evie turned pages in her pad. “Andrew was tipped off by a friend in Indiana that cops were at his house looking for him, were asking about Virginia Fawn. That came from his phone texts. You want an answer for why this ended so dark, I’m guessing that’s the reason. He wasn’t going to get arrested for the girls’ murders.”
“Go on,” he said.
“All three vehicles were stolen in the hour prior to the gate breach. Chicago cops have the driver of the dump truck in custody—one of Andrew’s friends from his detention days. They’re still looking for the other two. According to the friend in custody, a Tom Stanford, Andrew showed up just after five p.m. with an address and the idea of ramming the gate to get onto the property. He says they went along with the scheme because they were bored. They were in the middle of stealing the vehicles when Andrew, quote, ‘got weird on them, angry about something on his phone.’ The timing matches his getting tipped off about the Indiana cops.
“He changed plans, told the others not to come back for him, he’d leave his car nearby and walk away after he had photos of the evening’s adventure. That’s how he was referring to this—‘the evening’s adventure.’ He sent a rather cryptic text to his mother minutes before the gate was breached that could be read as a farewell. Chicago cops found the assistant hairdresser, Tina Newel, unconscious in the trunk of her car and with three broken fingers. Andrew would have gotten Maggie’s address from her.”
“Still alive?” David asked, surprised.
“Yes. It looks like he tried to smother her with a towel. He may have gotten interrupted or was in a hurry, but he didn’t finish the job. She’s in serious but stable condition, has a good chance of pulling through.”
“Thanks for that blessing, God,” David said quietly. Then to Evie, “Okay, what else?”
“They’re serving the warrant on his home in Indiana in about ten minutes. They’ve held off while this side sorted itself out, didn’t want to walk into a possibly booby-trapped house if weapons or explosives were used here. If you want to see live video, the FBI can link us in.”
He was tired enough that he didn’t particularly care if he saw it or just read the report, but he had a feeling Evie wouldn’t watch it unless he did also. They still didn’t have evidence on connections to Jenna’s death. They needed that house to yield useful information so Evie’s case could move beyond simply reasoned speculation. “I’ll watch it with you.”
David heard footsteps on the stairs and glanced over as Charlotte Bishop came up to join them, carrying a large mug of the tea she favored. “I can sit with her, David. I promise, she won’t wake up alone in a strange house.” Her two golden Irish Setters had trailed behind her and now sat politely on either side, each studying him with solemn eyes.
Maggie would be in safe hands. “I’d appreciate it, Charlotte. An hour or so should clear away much of what I need to finish up.”
“I’ll text you when she wakes. Until then, go get the answers she’ll want to hear. The more of her questions you can respond to when she asks them, the easier this will be.”
David accepted the wisdom in her words. “Thanks again, Charlotte.” He nodded toward the stairs, and Evie led the way down.
“How bad is the press situation?” he asked.
Evie stepped into the living room, picked up the remote, and turned on the national cable news channel.
David winced. “Aerial shots? Really?”
“They went live about two hours ago. The world now knows where Margaret May McDonald lives.” Evie left the commentary on mute. They knew far better than the anchorperson what had happened.
The three vehicles and the break-in through the stone wall and gate looked even more catastrophic from the air. Andrew had managed to get within feet of the garage with his truck, circled around the house on foot, and shattered the patio door to gain entry. “What’s the elapsed time?”
“Two minutes, seven seconds from first impact to the patio door breaking. Figure another thirty seconds to cross the living room, run up the stairs and to the master bedroom. I’m glad Maggie didn’t hesitate.”