Matty said, “We’re waiting for the forensics on some hair and fingerprints from the salon, but to be honest, we don’t hold out much hope for a match. This guy was pretty thorough.”

“We’re looking for his Bronco,” Niki said. “They found a tire print on Nicollet Island, so we may get something there.”

Andi looked at Lila. “Arrange a meeting with Ms. Vauk. I want to see what kind of a witness she’ll be. I’ll charge this out, but I’m telling you now, if this is all we have to give a jury, he may walk.”

Chapter 22

The jail smelled of old sweat and dust, and it clattered with the voices of unbathed men socializing in the common area as if it were just another Thursday morning. Gavin awoke from sleeping on a concrete bed for a second night, although to call it sleep would be overstating it. The grind of his thoughts kept him awake through most of the night, as did the tormented howls of one of his neighbors down the row.

It angered Gavin to be in jail, not so much for the loss of his freedoms but because Detective Vang had slipped one past him. Summoning his lisp to clench the lineup had been a smart move, and in doing so, Niki had proved herself a worthy opponent. Finding a way to put Vang in the river would become a special project for Gavin once he got out.

He was also angry to be there because of someone as common as Sadie Vauk. He should have kept his mouth shut that night. Exposing his lisp to her, even if what he said had been a truth she needed to hear, had been a lapse in judgment, and he could not afford such mistakes.

When he’d first arrived in jail, Gavin introduced himself to the inmate residing in the cell next to his, a guy in his forties named Gideon Doss, who had a tattoo of a dragon that snaked up his pale left arm. Doss seemed peaceful enough, even though he had once done a four-year stint in Stillwater for—as he put it—beating the tar out of a spic. His current charge was stabbing his cousin over a girl. He wasn’t one of the chatty ones, which Gavin appreciated, and he came across as a bit of a dullard, which Gavin suspected might come in handy for him.

Gideon took pride in having been through the system before, and he warned Gavin about going to his bail hearing without an attorney. “It’s not fair,” he said. “They have lawyers talking about why you need to stay in jail, and you ain’t got nobody to talk for you. And once your bail’s set, it’s near impossible to get it changed.”

But for Gavin, choosing an attorney was the cornerstone of his plan. It had to be a certain type of attorney. Gavin had the resources to hire the best in the Twin Cities, but he didn’t need the best. He didn’t even need competent. What he needed was an attorney who would take orders, one willing to bend a rule here or there. It would take some time to find the right man—and it would be a man. Gavin’s mother had long ago shown him to never trust a woman.