As Salazar’s hand clamped down even further around her arm, the drug rep gave one last dimpled smile to the Latino agent, spun around, and stalked toward the exit, her heels clacking out her anger on the tiles of the floor.
Once Ms. Capson had left, Salazar hissed in Sariah’s ear. “I don’t know what that was all about, but if it happens again, I’ll write you up.” He released her arm abruptly, the blood flowing back into the lower half of her limb.
“Salazar, I’m telling you, it was her. Her reaction to—”
Making a chopping motion with his hand, Agent Salazar cut her off before she could go any farther. “This was barely a lead. And there’s no way she’s our killer. We’re working on the nurse.”
“But—”
“Look, do what you want, dig your own grave here, but stay away from that drug rep. Anyone talks to her again, it’s gonna be me.” Salazar stormed off in the direction of the BAU operations room.
Had let out a deep breath and then turned to face Sariah. “I’m just guessing here, but you’re not going to listen to a single thing that idiot just said, right?”
“Damn straight.”
“Good,” Had said. “Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.
* * *
Going through older case files was maybe not how Kyle would have chosen to spend a normal workday. But today was anything but a normal workday, and these case files were of homicides that had happened right here in his backyard.
He was surrounded by the vaguely vanilla scent of paper that had been sitting around for a while. Didn’t seem to matter how long a case file had been tucked away, a week, or years and years, they all smelled the same. It was a comforting scent, somehow. The crimes detailed on the pages were horrific, but the smell was the same as what you’d find in a second-hand bookstore.
It might be uncomfortable to admit it, but Kyle loved his job. And he was having the time of his life working this specific case.
And the company didn’t hurt, either.
“Hey, Had, did you call in the request for Brynn Capson’s financials yet?” Agent Cooper asked.
“Yep. Just waiting to get them back. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”
“Drug reps usually make enough money to be able to afford nice things. Doesn’t really make sense that she’s wearing cheap stuff, you know?”
Coop had kicked off her shoes and was sorting through the evidence from the first of the murders. Kyle had made a beeline to the most recent of the files, but the agent had gone in the complete opposite direction.
“So, Coop, I need you to explain something for me,” Kyle said, peering over the edge of the pages he was poring over.
Agent Cooper glanced up from her work, her eyebrows lifting. “And what exactly would you like for me to explain, Officer Hadderly?” She grinned at him, her teeth blinding against her ebony skin.
Kyle closed the file he was holding and placed it on the desk in front of him. “Why go to the oldest of the murder cases? Seems like the latest ones are going to be better for finding stuff that may have slipped through the cracks.”
“If you’re looking for simple evidence, you’re right.” Coop rubbed at the bridge of her nose and leaned back in her chair, cracking her neck on both sides. She reached over and scooped up her Diet Coke, taking a long pull from the can. “But I’m looking for something else here.”
“Do tell.” This was the reason Kyle had been so excited to work this case with the BAU. They were world renowned for their profiling skills, and there were very few things that fascinated him more.
“The first case for a serial murderer can be telling for several reasons.” Coop ticked them off on her fingers. “The original crime is usually less thought out. It’s more emotional, so it can lead us to the driving motivation that informs all of the other crimes. Finally, they’re not as experienced, so the process they follow is sloppier and can leave behind more loose ends.”
“Okay, I’m convinced.” Kyle shoved the file in front of him to the side and stretched his arms wide. “What are you seeing there?”
“Not as much as I’d like. She was careful. No prints or DNA left behind, even with all the digging she must have done in that garden. No witnesses. No clear link to the other victims. That was all pretty much expected. But I’m not finding any clear motivators, either.” Agent Cooper sighed. “Just because looking at the first case sounds like a good idea doesn’t mean it always is.”
Kyle grabbed for his drug of choice, a half-consumed bag of Sour Patch Kids, and pulled out a green one. Lime. His favorite. “Hey, just the local cop talking here, but what you said sounded good to me. Maybe if we look at it together?”
Coop scooted her chair in closer. “Sounds fine by me.” She flipped open the file, glancing down the list of accumulated evidence.
Kyle scanned it, as well. “You’re right. Doesn’t seem like there’s much of use here. Body doesn’t tell us much, if anything. Location of the garden was different than any of the others. Doesn’t seem to be any pattern to the choices, either. Blech.” He ran his finger down the page. “The victim was a bank teller, right? Nothing there.”
“See what I mean? This one’s sharp. Not giving us much of anything about anything.” The agent took another gulp of her Diet Coke.
“What about at the actual bank? I know we didn’t get much from her coworkers before, but maybe now that we have more cases to draw from, we might draw something out?” Kyle sorted through the file, looking at the interviews he and his fellow officers had conducted so many months ago.
“That might yield some results, true.” Coop pursed her lips as she continued to study the list of accumulated evidence. “Wait. What about this?” She stabbed her finger at one particular item.
Kyle glanced over her shoulder. “The security camera footage? We looked through all of it. Didn’t find anything out of the ordinary.”
Coop shook her head, her face excited. “But you didn’t know what you were looking for. This time we’re scanning for something specific.”
“Okay. Cool.” Kyle paused, waiting. “Wanna let me in on the secret?”
“This time we’re looking for a drug rep wearing a cheap suit.”
Easy peasey, lemon squeezy. Now why hadn’t he thought of that?
CHAPTER 5
It didn’t take long to locate the attractive drug rep on the bank security cam video footage. Sariah stood behind the chair that sat in front of the monitor, with Had at her side, looking at a grainy image of the put-together saleswoman. They now had a clear link from her to the first victim. But that link wasn’t nearly enough to hang a case around.
Hadderly had called in a lip-reading specialist, who was sitting in the chair with his nose about six inches from the screen, mumbling to himself and occasionally jotting down notes on a pad in front of him. They had called in Dr. Roger Hammel from the local Speech Pathology Department of the University of Michigan’s North Campus here in Ann Arbor.
Somehow, Sariah would have thought the process would be a bit more high tech.
The near-sighted professor peered over his shoulder at them, apparently trying, without success, to readjust his focus. He craned his neck forward and then back, finally seeming to find some sort of equilibrium.
“There’s not much of interest here, honestly.” He pointed over his shoulder at the monitor. “I’ve lip-read much more interesting conversations at a university fundraiser. And let me tell you, those things are murder.” Dr. Hammel paused, appeared to reassess what he’d said, then continued. “That was, perhaps, an unfortunate word choice.”
Had stifled what sounded like either a laugh or a cough. Sariah gave him a brief glare before she returned her attention to the professor.
“What was said?”
“The only parts that didn’t directly involve the transaction itself were about fingernail polish and the teller’s engagement ring.”
Officer Hadderly shrugged and looked at Sariah. “He’s right. Not much to g
o off of there.”
“Maybe,” Sariah conceded. She turned back to the professor. “Can you take us through it piece by piece?”
The professor backed up the video to an earlier segment. “Here the patron says that she loves the teller’s ring. The teller replies that it’s far too big for her tastes.”
Had nodded. “It is a honker. Look at that thing. You could land a plane on it.”
Pressing the fast forward, Dr. Hammel sped to a later part of the footage. “Right before the end of the transaction, the teller asks the patron where she got her fingernail polish. There’s a short conversation about it before the patron admits she purchased it at Walgreens. That’s it, I’m afraid.”
Sariah blew a breath out. “Like you said. Not much.”
“Sorry, Agent Cooper,” the professor stated. “I wish I had more for you.”
“Hold on a sec,” Had interjected. “Could you go through that fingernail polish thingy a little bit better?”
“‘Fingernail polish thingy’?” Dr. Hammel quoted. “I can give you the entire conversation verbatim if you would like.”
“No, no. Please no. Not the whole thing. Just from where the teller asked about the polish,” Had clarified.
“What’s in your head?” Sariah asked him. “You seeing something?”
“Possibly. Gimme a sec.” Had motioned for the professor to continue.
“Well, the patron replied at first that she wasn’t sure where the polish had come from, as she’d had her nails done at a salon. Then the teller said that there must have been some touch-up done on it, as there was a spot of polish on her cuticles. Observant girl,” Dr. Hammel murmured.
“Very,” Had replied.
“Anyway, the patron seems a bit put off by that, but finally gives in and tells her where she got the polish.” The professor brushed his hands together and looked up at the two behind him. “Anything else you need from me?”
“No, thank you,” Sariah said. “Just send over the transcripts as soon as you can.”
Dr. Hammel nodded and gathered his things before exiting. Had continued to stare at the screen, his brow furrowed.
Sariah nudged Had, causing him to blink and turn his gaze toward her. She pointed at the screen.
“What is it? You’ve obviously got some thoughts about this bouncing around in your head.”
“I think so. Maybe. I took a look at the financials that came in for Ms. Capson.” Had pulled up an email and showed it to her. “This is where all her money was going. To this private mental facility, where her brother’s been staying since their parents passed away.”
“That explains how she’s going through all her money. It also…” Sariah allowed her voice to trail off. “I see where you’re going with this. I’m going down to evidence to check on something. Meet me out at your car in ten.”
“And then?”
“Then,” Sariah said, moving toward the door, “We go have a talk with a killer.”
* * *
It hadn’t been hard for Kyle to get Ms. Capson’s schedule for the day. Pretend to be a doctor interested in a new medication, and voila! Nothing like the promise of more revenue to loosen the lips of even the most careful receptionist.
And sure enough, as they pulled up outside of the offices of the private practice where the receptionist had said Ms. Capson would be, the drug rep strolled out, heading toward the blue Lexus parked in front. Kyle pulled up behind the vehicle, effectively blocking her exit.
As he and Coop stepped out of the car, their suspect didn’t waste any time with idle chitchat. “That’s it. I’m calling Agent Salazar.” She pulled out her cellphone.
Agent Cooper called out to her, “You are free to do that, Ms. Capson. But I would hear me out first, if I were in your place.”
The saleswoman sneered, but Kyle noticed that she didn’t open her phone. “What do you want? I’m late for my next appointment,” she snarled at them.
“Actually, you’re not,” Kyle replied. “You’ve got at least an hour before your next meeting, which is only ten minutes from here. Plenty of time to squeeze us in, wouldn’t you say?”
The woman’s face went still, her expression careful. “Who gave you my calendar?”
“Is that really the question you want to ask us, Ms. Capson?” Agent Cooper asked her. “Not curious as to what it is we want to talk to you about?” Coop held up her hand to cut the drug rep off as she opened up her mouth to speak. “I think you’re not curious because you already know.”
“I know what you think,” the woman responded. “You made that clear enough the last time we spoke. But since I had nothing to do with any of that, I’m not sure what talking to me will accomplish, other than getting you into a lot of trouble with Agent Salazar.”
“Tell you what,” Coop stated, her tone challenging. “Why don’t you go ahead and call him? And make sure and explain to him just why you lied to him.”
“I never—”
“The bank teller. Your first victim.” Coop held out a picture of the young woman. Kyle watched as the drug rep’s eye flashed to the photo, then back to Agent Cooper’s face.
“I didn’t lie. I have no idea who that is.”
“There’s a small problem with that, Ms. Capson.” Coop’s stance was easy, her body seemingly without any tension. Kyle couldn’t claim the same thing. He felt like his entire being was one big jangle of nerve endings. The BAU agent continued. “We have you on the surveillance footage from the bank.”
The saleswoman snorted. “You saw me talking to a bank teller? Wow. Alert the press.” She shook her head at them. “That means nothing. The last teller you spoke with, would you be able to recognize her now? That makes me a suspect along with every other person in that same line with me.”
Agent Cooper nodded, her face grim. “That would seem to be the case, wouldn’t it? But, see, we know some things about you. Things that only start to make sense when you put them all together.”
“We know about your brother, Ms. Capson,” Kyle stepped in, drawing the suspect’s attention his way, attempting to throw her more off guard. “We know how much you’re spending to keep him there.”
A flash of irritation showed in the woman’s face. “That’s no secret. If you had asked I probably would’ve told you, even though it’s no one’s business.”
“You’re right,” Agent Cooper agreed. “And normally I wouldn’t think anything of it.” She pulled out a piece of paper, showing it to Ms. Capson. “But I did some digging. Every single one of the victims was wealthy. Well, almost.”
Brynn Capson threw her arms up in the air in seeming exasperation. “This is making absolutely no sense. What in the world does my brother being in an institution have to do with the victims being wealthy?”
“Oh, I think you know, Ms. Capson,” Kyle answered. “And it all started right there in the bank. I checked the transaction you made with that teller. You were withdrawing money from your account, but there wasn’t enough, was there?”
“That happens to everyone. Besides, it was an easy fix. I just pulled out less.”
“Oh yes,” Agent Cooper confirmed. “You did. But not before talking to her about her enormous engagement ring. And getting upset when she asked you about your nail polish.”
“You are insane. Both of you.” The drug rep glared at Kyle, then back at Coop.
“Let’s look at the evidence,” Coop stated. “You’re living on next to nothing, trying to keep up your image with fake designer clothes, touching up your own nails, coloring your own hair. You have access to OxyContin without having to account for every pill, something no one else in Ann Arbor can claim. And your flexible schedule and constant travel makes it almost impossible to nail down a timeline for you.”
Brynn Capson smirked at that. “That’s hardly compelling.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” the agent responded. “I have no intention of arresting you.”
That seemed to be the first thing to give the saleswoman pau
se. She stepped back, studying Coop’s face. “What do you mean?”
“I’m giving you a choice, Ms. Capson.”
The attractive brunette straightened her shoulders. “You’re not in a position to give me anything of the sort, Agent Cooper.”
“Oh, I think I am.” Coop gave the woman a sad look. “This won’t be the end of this. You’ll kill again. And it’s only a matter of time before you get caught.”
Kyle watched as the woman backed up several steps, her hand raised as if to ward off Agent Cooper’s words. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Perhaps so, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Coop reached out a hand to the drug rep, her expression kind. “You get caught, and your brother is out on the street. Think for a minute about what that would look like for him, in the state he’s in.”
Ms. Capson shook her head, her eyes shining. “Let’s say that all of this was true. That would just mean it would be all the more important I never get caught. What you have means nothing. It would never hold up in court, and you know it.”
“I do,” Coop admitted. “That’s why I need you to confess.” Kyle did a double take. That was not at all what he had expected. Apparently, the saleswoman hadn’t either, as her mouth gaped open. She stood there for a long moment before a sharp bark of laughter broke from her lips.
“I’m sure Agent Salazar will be fascinated when I tell him of your unique approach, Agent Cooper.”
“You’re out of control, Brynn. I saw you with those photos. It may have started out as jealous rage, but you enjoy it now.”
The rep stepped in closer to Coop, her face contorted. “You think you have me figured out? Because I’m poor and some rich bitch at a bank was rude to me?”
“She wasn’t rich. She lived in a tiny little basement apartment and didn’t have a car.”
“What do you mean? She was wearing a fortune on her finger!”
“Yes,” Cooper responded. “She was. A ring that was given her by her wealthy fiancé. But she was dirt poor.”
“Then why would she make fun of my nails?” Brynn Capson was shaking her head, as if trying to negate everything Agent Cooper was saying.
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