Last Girls Alive (Detective Katie Scott #4) - Jennifer Chase Page 0,73
investigating the homicides of Carol Harlan and Mary Rodriguez. Did you know that?”
“I don’t know them.”
“It says in the police report that you’re being charged with drug possession, being a possible accomplice to murder, and impeding a murder investigation. What do you think about that?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Do you know Carol Harlan?”
“No.”
“Do you know Mary Rodriguez?”
“No, I don’t know those women.”
Katie was warming up for the real questions she wanted answered. “Have you ever been part of a murder investigation before?”
“No.”
“You seemed fairly competent when your crew found the body of Carol Harlan. You knew what to do: stop the work and keep everyone away from the murder scene. That says a lot, don’t you think?”
“I’ve seen enough TV to know that you’re not supposed to disturb a crime scene.”
“I see.”
“I have a daughter about that girl’s age.”
“You have two daughters,” she said. “What do you think they think about what’s going on right now?”
The mention of his daughters made him break and cry.
“These young women are murdered. Do you understand that?”
“Please, I don’t know those women and I didn’t kill anyone.”
“Maybe you did, maybe you didn’t. It’s not up to me to say if you’re innocent or guilty. It’s up to a jury. What do you think they’ll say?”
He sat and stared at Katie as if to discern why she was being so mean to him. Leaning back, trying to push himself out of the way—as if he could disappear.
“This brings me to the big question. Can you explain why you had a lock of woman’s hair with a pink bow in your car?”
“I…”
“Did you take evidence from the crime scene at Elm Hill? When we get back the DNA report—who do you think we will find the hair belongs to?”
“You don’t understand—”
“Did you take evidence from a murder scene?”
“It’s just—”
“Tell me, did you take evidence from a crime scene?” Katie paused. She saw in her peripheral that McGaven had scooted forward a couple of inches, making it extremely uncomfortable for Bramble.
“I have a problem,” he said.
“A fetish? A perversion? What would you like to call it?”
“I can’t help myself. I take pretty things from women.”
Katie was taken aback, not expecting that answer. It didn’t initially occur to her that he was more creep than serial killer.
“Explain to me. How does that work? What triggers you? What goes through your mind?”
“It’s…”
“I’m listening.”
“It’s hard for anyone to understand.”
“Try me.” She knew that he was embarrassed because she was a woman but he would have to deal with it.
“I can’t help it. I’ve had this problem since I was young. I love girls. It makes me want something of theirs. Anything,” he said, trying to compose himself, shifting in his chair. “I collect things. A discarded cup they’d been drinking from, a piece of fabric from their clothes, a barrette, sunglasses, anything connected to them.”
Katie took two steadying breaths and lowered her intensity. “Take me through the events from when you found the body until the police arrived.”
“Okay. It was a pretty stressful morning. One of my men came to me and said they had found something horrible. I saw it was a woman’s body so I moved closer to see her. That’s when I saw her naked body… I saw the fingernail but it was too close to some of my men that had gathered around.” He paused.
“Go on,” she said. “The more you tell us about that day, the better prepared we are to investigate and find the real killer.”
“I wanted the fingernail. Badly. I ached to have that beautiful pink nail from that once beautiful girl. But I couldn’t let my crew see what I do—what I am…” He picked up his hands and banged them on the table. “I turned and saw the lock of hair held by a pink ribbon. It was so pretty…”
“And so you stole it from a crime scene?”
He nodded.
“Did you realize what you were doing?”
“Yes, I knew. I always know. Don’t you get it?”
“And the twine and calligraphy pens?”
“I… I… wanted to pretend… to re-create in my mind that it was me that tied her up and wrote on her back… I bought those things after the crime scene—I have a receipt.” He wept. “I didn’t kill anyone. I can’t even kill an insect.”
Katie sat down and flipped through the file again. There was a quick background check done on him, showing where he went to school from kindergarten through college.
“Where did you live when you were in high school?”