Dave sat on the edge of the desk. “We need to talk about this Min Wong guy, or Jonathan Drysdon. Isn’t that the same name Melanie Wilson found on the temp agencies?”
I was hoping Greg would return before we ran out of things to look for. Damn Frederickson and his hidden cash. “We’re meeting Greg’s brother tonight. With the FBI resources, he’ll have a much easier time locating something on him than we would. We’d be wasting time.”
“That’s not what I mean. We sat on Frederickson for weeks after your kidnapping. We scoured through all our past cases. We came up empty—until now. What happened to you two years ago is linked to what happened to Kyle.”
I’d come to the same conclusion earlier. “That still doesn’t help us, because I didn’t know what Kyle was doing. And I don’t think he knew I was kidnapped.”
“Maybe it does. After we get Sevier wrapped up and meet with Stevens’s brother, let’s sit down and figure out what was happening right before you were kidnapped. We can even go back a few months before and list everything we can think of.”
A loud knock sounded on the front door. I didn’t agree or disagree with Dave. I’d already wracked my brain, trying to remember what had changed before and after. The truth was nothing had changed. The only way we would get answers was if we were lucky enough to nab Wong before he killed me. “I think that’s our ride.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The CSI team arrived thirty minutes later, and I handed over the warrant. “We’ll send you a copy of the pictures we took. We found the cash before we got started. There’s probably more.”
Stevens was motioning for us to hurry. I waved at the stacks of cash and grinned. “Have fun counting that, guys.”
I followed Dave to the front. “What’s up?”
“Park called. They’re ready to go in.”
“Do you think Marcone told the truth, and this is our guy?” Dave asked. “If they kill him, we’re never gonna know.”
“I don’t think Marcone plays games. He wouldn’t have given us the name and location unless he was positive Sevier killed Officer Moore.”
Dave grunted something unintelligible as we buckled up. The familiarity I’d felt with Marcone still plagued me. I trusted him, and that wasn’t something I did often. “I would never hurt Miss Lang.” Why would he say that? “Something’s been bugging me about Marcone. Have we met him before, Dave?”
“Not that I know of, but now that you mention it, I got that feeling too. We ever get caught up, we’ll take a look at old cases and see if he’s been here before.”
“I think we should look into him anyway.” Stevens was roaring past slow vehicles. “Before we trust the information he’s giving us, we need to know where he comes from and what he’s done in the past.”
“We’ve got more important things on our plate right now.” I grabbed the door. “Staying alive being one of them. In case you’ve forgotten, Dave has a head injury.”
Stevens slowed, but I was positive it was more because of the roadblock up ahead than my words having any effect on him. The address Marcone had given us was a run-down shack in West Englewood, about a block from where we’d picked up Simon. At least we won’t have to worry too much about innocent civilians getting in the way. Now all we have to worry about is the local residents shooting at us. “Something’s happening up ahead.” I strained to see around the vehicles. “Pull over and park.”
“No place to park here.” Stevens stopped in the middle of the road.
“Stay here, and I’ll be right back.” I headed toward the officers milling on the sidewalk, fully expecting to hear Dave’s or Stevens’s footsteps behind me.
Park was at the head of the crowd, grinning from ear to ear.
“Sorry we’re late, Commander.” I glanced around to where the SWAT team was loading up. “What happened?”
“Bastard surrendered.” Park nodded toward the man in the back seat of the lead cruiser. “You up for interrogation?”
It’s not that easy. Park had to realize cop killers didn’t walk out with their hands up. Either Marcone had lied to us, or Sevier was more afraid of someone else than he was of us or life without parole. “Yes, sir. We’ll meet you back at the station.”
Park nodded. “That was good work on this one, Detective Lang.”
“Thank you, sir.” I made my way back to our car, weaving through officers high-fiving and slapping each other on the back. They were all adrenaline junkies at the moment, but when they crashed, the same questions running through my mind would run through theirs. Catching a cop killer without having to fire a bullet or charge into a building with bullets flying was worthy of a celebration. It didn’t happen every day. Damn it, that never happens.
Stevens rounded the cruiser and opened my door. “Is it over already?”
“Yeah. Sevier surrendered.” I met Dave’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Not a shot fired.”
“Marcone lied to us. Only explanation I can think of.” Dave sighed and jerked on his seat belt.
“Where to?” Stevens asked.
“Park wants us to handle the interrogation.” I turned around and smiled at Dave. “He said we did a good job.”
Dave didn’t answer, and Stevens backed out of the lane and turned around. Partners shared a bond that was similar to husbands and wives. I could read Dave’s thoughts by looking at his face, body language, and attitude. We would get the truth out of Sevier if it took us all night.
“What do you guys want me to do while you’re handling the interrogation? I could look into Marcone.”
“Marcone can wait. You want to be a detective. The only way to learn is to take part. We can use you in the interrogation room.”
Stevens’s eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Dave?”
“We could use him if we’re gonna break this guy. If he is our killer, then we want to know who hired him. If he isn’t, we want to know who got to him before we did.”
“We’ll let him stew in the interrogation room for a few minutes. Why don’t you jot down some questions you think we need to ask, and Dave and I will look them over before we go in. We’ll let you handle the first part of the interview.”
Stevens parked in the station lot and turned off the motor. “Thanks, I think.”
Dave chuckled. “I don’t know if the kid looks like he won the lottery or he saw a ghost.”
I glanced at Stevens and opened my door. “I was thinking he needed to change his underwear before we start.”
“Look at the size of the arms on that guy,” Dave whispered.
I would have been seen as prejudiced in profiling if I voiced my thoughts. Zavier Sevier looked like a professional killer. His head and face were cleanly shaved, and tattoos covered the visible parts of his body, but it was the muscular build that drew my attention first. Officer Moore’s neck had been broken, and one look at Sevier’s arms suggested it was with one quick twist. Dave and I studied him through the monitor as we waited on Stevens to finish his first run of questions. “Why are you whispering? He can’t hear us.”
“Guy gives me the creeps.” Dave shuddered beside me.
“I don’t know… He does have Mother tattooed on his left arm.”
“Yeah, right below that picture of the devil surrounded by cobras.”
The door opened, and Park joined us. “His lawyer is here.”
“Who’s his lawyer?” The tone of Park’s voice should have warned me, but to say I wasn’t prepared for the answer was an understatement.
“Fabian Marcone. He’s asked to meet with Detective Lang alone before you question his client. He’s waiting in Interrogation Room One.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I removed my gun and passed it to Dave. “Might be better if I don’t take that in with me. That way if he pisses me off, I’m not tempted to kill him.”
Dave was huffing and puffing, his face an unhealthy shade of red as his blood pressure rose. “This is crazy, Kacy. I should be in there w
ith you.”
“Go over Stevens’s list of questions. This won’t take long. We don’t make deals with cop killers.” I took a deep breath and opened the door.
Marcone was seated at the head of the table, a file folder in front of him.
“Would you like something to drink, Mr. Marcone?”
“No thank you. This won’t take long.”
I closed the door but didn’t take a seat. “If you’re looking for a deal for Sevier, you’re wasting your time.” I met his gaze. “And mine.”
“Is this a safe room?” Marcone glanced at the cameras mounted on the opposite wall.
Attorney visits with clients were privileged, and the cameras and audio were always turned off. It wouldn’t surprise me for Dave or Park to insist on listening in. “At the moment, yes. But I would guess in a few minutes, the answer would be no.”
Marcone smiled, his brown eyes twinkling. “Honesty. A rare quality in today’s world, and one I admire. We need a safe room, preferably one with either a computer or TV-DVD set up. I have something you need to see.”
“What?” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the door.
“The evidence you need to convict Sevier.” He stood up and picked up the file. “If you don’t want it, then we might as well go see Zavier.”
“Whoa!” I held up a hand. “Why would you give us the evidence to convict your client?”
“The contract on my representation hasn’t been signed. I told Zavier I wanted to hear what you had on him before I agreed to represent him. You don’t have anything, do you?”
He’d hit the nail on the head of what had irritated me with the earlier celebrations. No matter how much we suspected Sevier had killed Officer Moore, we didn’t have one damn shred of real evidence. “No, but we’re good at getting confessions.”
“Men like Sevier don’t confess.” He took a step toward me. “And they don’t surrender without a reason.”
I couldn’t take my eyes from his face, and my feet were rooted to the spot. “Then why did he surrender?”
“Because he knows you don’t have anything, and he thinks I’ll walk him out of here a free man.” He glanced at the camera as a small red light blinked. “I don’t believe our room is safe any longer. There are no tricks here. I’m honoring our part of your deal with Mr. Lenglases.”
“Give me a minute.” I opened the door and quickly closed it behind me. Stevens was positioned outside. “Where are they?”
“Monitor room.”
Never underestimate your opponent. Dave was the one who had taught me that. In situations where we didn’t want the witness to know they were being taped, we moved them to a spot where the camera couldn’t be seen. Marcone was too smart for that, which was why he’d chosen the head of the table. Park might be ignorant of that fact, but Dave should have known it.
I jerked open the door to the monitor room. Dave looked up as I entered, and Park moved away from the monitor. “Turn it off.”
Dave shook his head. “And leave you in the room with a dangerous man and nobody watching? Not gonna happen. How do we know he didn’t kill your brother and Officer Moore?”
Trying to convince Dave was useless. I turned my appeal to Park. “There’s no doubt in my mind that Sevier killed Officer Moore. We don’t have anything to prove that, and unless we get a confession, he’ll walk out of here. We’re good, but we may not be good enough. Marcone says he has the evidence we need, but he’ll only give it to me if he can talk in a safe room. We need that evidence.”
Dave growled something, but the wheels were turning in Park’s head. All it would take was one more push. “We need a room with a DVD player, sir. He could be lying, but maybe he isn’t. I’m willing to take that chance.”
“All right. Use Interrogation Room Four.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Dave shoved his chair back. “I’ll be outside that room. He lays a hand on you, and he’ll never walk out of here alive.”
“I was counting on that.”
Marcone studied the room before he took a seat.
“It’s clear. It’s a safe room for attorneys to meet with their clients.” I sat in the chair across the table from him. “I’d like to see that evidence now. I have another interrogation after Sevier.”
“Mr. Frederickson, I presume?”
“Don’t tell me you represent him too?”
“I could arrange it if you like, but no, he’s not on my client list.” He opened his folder and retrieved a DVD. “Video provides such damning evidence.”
“Only if the chain of evidence is followed. Where did you get it?”
“It’s the hospital video from the time Officer Moore was killed.”
I rolled my eyes. Dave was right—Marcone was wasting my time. “Every detective and officer in this station has watched that video at least once, and most of us twice. There’s nothing on it.”
Marcone smiled and rose. “May I?”
“Be my guest.”
He turned on the TV, inserted the DVD, and picked up the remote. “The problem with video is you see what you expect to see.” He started it rolling. “Like here. A slightly overweight nurse walking by the station and moving down the hall, pushing a cart of meds.”
“She doesn’t go into Room 323.”
“No, she goes into Room 324.”
I continued to watch, waiting for the great revelation he seemed to think I was going to see.
“Here, Officer Moore enters Room 323, and two minutes later, our nurse leaves Room 324 with her cart and enters Room 325, where she stays approximately two minutes before going back down the hall.” Marcone stopped the video and returned to the table. “Were you able to interview this nurse?”
“Dave and I didn’t work that part of the case. I’d have to look at the evidence, but they interviewed all the nurses on the floor. I’m not sure what you’re getting at. She didn’t go into Room 323. Which saved her life.”
“You might want to check out the hospital personnel again. Room 323 and 324 have a connecting bathroom. If I were a detective, I would want to know why Mr. Strong was put in that particular room.”
It was one of those rare heart-stopping moments that detectives hope for. I sat up as blood rushed through my body. “That implicates the nurse, but it doesn’t give us anything on Sevier.”
Marcone smiled. “I’m assuming Sims and Gardner were put on Officer Moore’s murder investigation. I think if you’d been on it, you would have solved it by now.” He pressed the play button. “Next time, they should retrieve the parking lot video also.”
I found it hard to breathe as my eyes locked on the scene rolling in front of me. Sevier walked out of the emergency room exit and through the parking lot to a silver Alfa Romeo.
“Many people aren’t aware that the parking lots are videoed during the day. I printed a couple of pictures for you.” Marcone passed two eight-by-ten glossies across the table.
Fear and excitement cause similar adrenaline rushes, creating a momentary high. Like all highs, the low that follows drains a person quickly. “It doesn’t help us. That places Sevier at the hospital. We still have to place him inside that room, and we can’t.”
“I wouldn’t waste your time showing you this, Miss Lang, if we couldn’t place him inside the room.”
Marcone restarted the video, and once again, I watched the nurse push the cart down the hall. She reached the door to Room 324, knocked, then entered.
“Did you find it odd the nurse was wearing gloves?” he asked.
“We questioned it, but the patient in Room 324 has HIV. Nothing unusual about that.”
“Let me show you what is unusual.” Marcone rolled the DVD back to right before the nurse entered the room. “When she raised her hand to knock.” He stopped the video. “Do you see it?”
“Son of a bitch!” I saw it and could have kicked myself for not seeing it before. “Can you still-shot that?”
“I already have.” He took anothe
r eight-by-ten glossy from the folder. “If you compare the tattoo to the one on Sevier’s right wrist, I believe you’ll find a perfect match.”
It may have been unprofessional, but I couldn’t stop the huge grin that spread across my face. We’ve got you, you slimy bastard.
“You look like your mother when you smile.”
I gave an unladylike snort and picked up the photos. “I look nothing like Katherine Lange.”
His voice changed from professional to a softer tone. “Katherine Lange isn’t your mother.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The room was silent. Gone was the jubilation I’d felt only moments before, and I wished I’d kept my gun. “Who are you?”
“You’re a good detective, Miss Lang. In time, you’ll figure it out.” He moved toward the door. “I think it’s time we questioned Mr. Sevier. Your partner must be getting anxious by now.”
I blocked his path, not caring that he stood a foot taller than me and outweighed me by eighty pounds, most of which appeared to be muscle. “How did you know my mother?”
“When your brother started looking into the missing children, he was noticed by certain individuals with an interest. That’s all I’ll tell you at the moment.”
“Did you kill Kyle?”
“No. But I won’t be leaving Chicago until I find the person who did.”
A knock sounded on the door. “We’re not finished with this conversation, Marcone.”
He smiled, and I felt that tug of familiarity. “I’ll look forward to seeing you again. I’ll be bringing Mr. Culver in for his confession in the morning.” He reached around me and opened the door. “I’d like to meet with my potential client for a few minutes if you don’t mind.”
Dave and Stevens were both positioned outside the room. “He’s in Interrogation Room Two.”
“Follow me.” Stevens started to walk away, and Marcone stopped him.
“I know the way. I believe Detective Lang would like to speak with the two of you. I’ll let you know when we’re ready.”
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