Ashe was hunched over the stack of case documents again, reading through them a second time when his cell phone rang. It broke the silence and thought, startling him nearly out of his seat. Regaining his composure, he grabbed phone. Before answering, he looked at the display and the number that appeared.
Oscar.
“Oscar?” he quickly asked into the phone.
“Yea,” Oscar replied.
He waited for Oscar to continue. But it only led to seconds of silence.
“You there?” Oscar asked.
“I’m here,” Ashe replied. “What is going on?”
“I’m still here at Lincoln Park,” Oscar began. “And we do have two shooting victims. It’s pretty violent, too. Ugly. The report about the YSU leather jacket was right on the money. On the left breast is the name SCOTT WALTERS,” Oscar replied. “What are the odds it belongs to some other person?”
“Little,” Ashe replied. “None. Damn.” Another set of bodies tied to his son. He had told his friend that Scott did not have it in him to kill anyone, but he had been proven wrong. And the fact dug into him like a dull knife.
“We’ve tried to talk to those who are squatting here in the park,” Oscar began, “but we haven’t gotten a whole lot of cooperation. Cops are not exactly welcomed with open arms around here, but you already know that. A couple people did speak of a possible confrontation, raised voices before the gunshots.”
“Self-defense?”
“Looks like a good possibility,” Oscar replied. “I know these two guys,” he admitted. “Far from top notch citizens, if you know what I mean. Young. Reckless. They have been in trouble with the legal system since getting out of diapers. Dipshits. They probably confronted Scott about something and Scott defended himself. At least it looks that way.”
“That jacket.”
“What?”
“They wanted Scott’s leather jacket,” Ashe clarified. “They tried to take it from him.”
“But they are dead,” Oscar pointed out the obvious. “And yet the one is wearing Scott’s jacket. Whether they were shot before or after trying to take the jacket, Scott should have it now. Why leave it behind?”
Ashe took a second to think.
“Proof,” he figured. “He wanted to leave behind proof that it was self-defense.”
“Maybe,” Oscar agreed. “But why?”
Ashe sighed.
“Maybe he wanted these deaths differentiated from Owen,” he said. “They were not the same. Or at least the circumstances were not the same. I can’t say for sure. He just wanted to prove that the shooting was self-defense.”
“And the gun? Why leave the gun behind? The ballistics are not in, yet, but I’m sure it’s the same gun that killed Owen.”
“Because he is done,” Ashe replied.
“Done?”
“He doesn’t want to get into another circumstance where he had to kill,” Ashe explained. “But that only leaves him helpless.”
He sighed again.
Shit.
“Did anyone see where Scott went?” Ashe asked.
“It was dark,” Oscar replied. “No one could say for sure which way he ran.”
Ashe sighed for a final time.
“Where do you think he would be heading? Out of town?” Oscar asked.
“I wish I knew.”
“Me too,” Oscar admitted. “Sit tight, Ashe,” Oscar told him. “I will call when I have more.”