my pet.
I promise.
Seven
Two hours later, Emilia sipped coffee, but the warm liquid didn’t dispel the chill in her bones. The killer was still out there and he was coming for her. Worse, if they didn’t stop him, he’d murder three other women.
She couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t.
Emilia gripped the coffee mug. The Fulton County Sheriff’s Department was a buzz of activity. The sheriff had called in extra hands to process the crime scene and track down leads. Emilia weaved her way through the bullpen to the observation room. The door was cocked open, and she slipped inside.
Bennett stood in front of the one-way glass watching John pace the interview room. The business man had given an initial statement and agreed to wait while the information was verified. John was still dressed in his running clothes. Mud stained his shirt and pants from the tangle with Bennett.
Emilia leaned against the wall. Bennett had changed into fresh pants and a new button-down shirt from a spare set he carried in his truck. The scent of his aftershave wafted toward her. Emilia breathed it in and the tension in her shoulders loosened.
She took another sip of coffee. “The news was on in the break room. Someone leaked details about the murder to the media. They’ve connected Kathy’s death to the ones from last year. The reporter theorized that Derrick was not the Holiday Slasher.”
Bennett scowled. “I hate that name. The Holiday Slasher. It gives the killer notoriety, which is exactly what he wants.”
He was right. She hated the nickname too.
Bennett raked a hand through his hair. “This is going to be a media circus.”
“No use crying over spilled milk. We’ll just have to deal with it. Did you arrange for a sketch artist to sit down with Peter?”
“Yes. We should have something by tonight. The poinsettia along with the note have been sent to the state lab as well, although I don’t think they’ll get prints from either item. The killer is smart enough to have worn gloves.”
Claire walked into the room. She closed the door behind her. “I spoke to John’s secretary, Velma. She verified John runs on that path every day, including Sunday. Weekdays, it’s in the morning. Sunday, it’s in the afternoon. He’s strict with his schedule and exercises like clockwork. I also asked about Derrick Jackson. According to Velma, John and Derrick regularly had lunch together. She described them as friendly.”
Bennett rocked back on his heels. “John didn’t tell us that in our first interview with him. He claimed to barely know Derrick.”
Emilia jerked her chin toward the one-way glass. “John could’ve given the letter to Peter before hitting the running trail.”
“He consented to a search of his car,” Claire said. “We didn’t find a hat or scarf. I’ve also got deputies searching the trash and area around the parking lot, but so far we’ve come up empty-handed. There’s no indication John is the same man who approached Peter. Besides, if he’s the killer, why run right past the crime scene? It draws our attention to him, which seems counterproductive.”
“Arrogance.” Emilia kept her gaze on John still pacing the interview room. “The killer is confident, Sheriff. He’s not afraid to take risks. What else do we know about John?”
“His criminal record is clean. Business finances are in good shape. Both parents are deceased, and he doesn’t have any siblings. John’s secretary described him as demanding but a fair boss.” Claire crossed her arms. “He doesn’t have an alibi for Kathy’s disappearance or her murder. John lives alone, so no one can verify he was there.”
“I want to interview him.” Emilia turned to Bennett. “Alone, this time. It’ll be easier to study his reaction to being around me.”
His mouth flattened, but he nodded. “We’ll be here watching.”
She met his gaze for a moment. Warmth spread through her chest. Bennett wanted to protect her, but he didn’t try to talk her out of interviewing John. He knew when to treat her like a friend and when to treat her as a professional. She appreciated the delicate balance.
Emilia squared her shoulders and took a deep breath before entering the interview room.
John paused in his pacing midstep. “Oh, thank goodness. Have you spoken to my secretary? Did she confirm I normally run on that trail?”
“Yes, Mr. McInnis, she did.” Emilia gestured to a chair. “Please, take a seat. I have a few more questions. But first, I’m going to review your rights.”
She ran through the Miranda warning. John had signed away his