Guilty Photographs

by S I Taylor

This was the first time he found himself helpless.

  Chapter 42

  McKinley sat on the side of the road, still talking to Coolidge, fiddling with the GPS.

  “McKinley, for what I have to tell you we need to be face to face. Meet me at the sheriff’s office.”

  “According to this GPS I can be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Great. Later.”

  They both ended the call.

  He drove on the freeway, rushing to find out what Coolidge had to tell him. If she wanted to see him then whatever she had to say was important. However, he felt shame in what he’d done and how she would perceive him when she saw him and looked into his eyes.

  There was something impersonal about talking to Coolidge on the phone, but in person she almost made him feel uncomfortable, like he needed to prove something to her. Maybe because he saw her as a sister and felt like if Monroe was there, he would want her to be proud of him.

  He didn’t like the disappointed tone Coolidge had given him once he’d explained everything to her. Except for the kiss and the way he and Barbara felt for one another—that part he’d left out.

  He arrived at the sheriff’s office a little after twenty-five minutes later due to traffic.

  “Hey, Claire.” He waved at her and she waved her bright orange nails and flashed a grin at him before she punched the bell to let him in.

  “Hi, Agent McKinley, nice to see you today. I haven’t seen you in a few days,” she said, almost mesmerized to see him even though his shirt was stained with motor oil and his lips busted from his earlier fall.

  “Yeah, I was busy. I had a lot of things to do. You know this case isn’t going to solve itself. I got to get out there and be proactive,” he responded as he swung the door open and hurried to the conference room where he usually met with Coolidge.

  “I hear ya,” she shouted from the distance and continued with her filing.

  McKinley opened the door and braced himself before entering. His heart was pumping fast and his nerves were getting the best of him. It was the first time he’d ever had to explain himself to his partner and he didn’t like the guilty feeling that followed.

  He entered the room. Coolidge was sitting there with two other deputies he hadn’t yet met.

  “McKinley, you’re late,” Coolidge said. She didn’t seem to be judging him. He figured she knew they all made mistakes. He was expecting some sort of resistance but she greeted him as if nothing had happened. He realized that the damage was done but it was reparable, as she said.

  “I know. Traffic was terrible,” McKinley responded, looking at her.

  “Yeah, traffic can be a hassle at this time of day,” the female deputy said. She was almost as young as Deputy Harry, maybe about the same age. She had green eyes, pale skin, and soft facial features. Her slicked-back blonde hair in that low bun and those braces made her look more like an Explorer—the sheriff’s high school training program—than an actual deputy.

  However, the male deputy looked a little older. He had a five o’clock shadow that he kept neatly trimmed, small dark brown eyes, thick black curly hair, and a suntan either from too much sun exposure from his job or from sunbathing—either way he had a nice subtle glow to his complexion.

  “Allow me to introduce you to Deputy Kelly Sloan and Deputy Julian Constantino,” Coolidge said. Both deputies stood, extended their hands, and greeted McKinley with a firm handshake before taking their seats once more.

  “And they are here because…” McKinley furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, as they rarely involved any other agencies in their meetings, let alone two rookies from the sheriff’s department.

  “We’ll get to them in a few seconds, but I want to tell you about Marlo Smith, our naked guy,” Coolidge said almost too enthusiastically. She shifted in her chair and looked through her notes before she slid a photograph across the table toward him. “That’s Smith,” she said.

  McKinley looked at the photograph and examined it. He was a young black male. He had a big nose, small eyes, a few skin tags on his face, thick eyebrows, and small lips. He was wearing a mass of chains around his neck and had a single gold tooth in his mouth in his mug shot. According to the twenty-page NCIC criminal background software, he had been in and out of jail since he was twelve years old and just recently when he turned twenty-one.

  “Okay, but that doesn’t tell me anything about how he’s connected to this case,” McKinley said.

  “I know. Let me explain. He’s a small-time drug dealer who was in and out of foster care growing up and wound up being recruited by the older kids in his block. Slowly he started getting a reputation and that’s how he got all these intricate chains and whatnot. Well, days before his murder he was seen at Topaz Café with guess who?” She handed him another picture and he instantly recognized the person on the picture.

  “Nixon Wright!” he said, alarmed. “The guy I met in the bar that one night.”

  “Yeah, go figure. I remember you mentioning his name. So I had Bush investigate this Nixon person and he comes from a good family, graduated with top honors at Huntersville State University, and began working for Pavilion Computer Genetics, one of the biggest and most lucrative computer design and software engineering companies in the world,” she said.

  “Okay, but that doesn’t mean anything. Smith probably needed computer stuff and wanted a job.”

  “Come on, McKinley. Nixon works from home—he only handles the company’s database and hiring is not part of his job description. I thought it was odd that he would meet with Wright considering that Smith is a drug dealer in Huntersville. Why would Wright meet with Smith way out of town? I had Bush do more digging and found that Smith works for Wright,” she said and gestured for Deputy Sloan to continue.

  “A few days ago, there was a break-in and robbery at Mr. Wright’s residence where Deputy Constantino and I were investigating. We spoke to some of the neighbors, who seemed to cooperate since they live in a nice part of town and have never experienced a robbery and wanted the thief behind bars before he or she returned for their residences. Well, the neighbors advised that months prior to the break-in, Mr. Nixon came to the apartment complex with two rather peculiar fellows and the one thing that they all said was that they were both young black men and had a lot of chains around their necks,” Deputy Sloan said.

  “When we looked around the house, it wasn’t consistent with a break-in. Instead it looked staged. The tables were flipped, the kitchen was in disarray, and the only things that were taken were one of his computer monitors and a few miscellaneous things that were unimportant,” Deputy Constantino added.

  “So we think that Wright hired Smith and the other guy to stage a house robbery, however, Smith didn’t make it to the robbery and instead was found dead in your car,” Coolidge added.

  “Maybe he did it to scare off the woman who was living with him. According to the statement they provided for the report, Ms. Lori Harrison and Mr. Wright are cousins and she lived there temporarily with her four-year-old daughter who wasn’t home at the time,” Deputy Sloan said.

  “That’s strange. Wouldn’t it be easier to just ask her to leave instead of going through all that trouble? Why would he do that?” McKinley asked, concerned. He looked at them, confused, trying to put the pieces together, but he couldn’t see the connection.

  “That, my dear friend, I’m glad you asked,” Coolidge said as she handed McKinley the blood analysis report from the warehouse. “The blood that was found in the warehouse belonged to Smith. Apparently, he was taken there where he was tied, hence the wrist marks.” She slid a picture of his grayish swollen hands. “He was beaten”—she slid yet another picture of open slash wounds on his bare back and chest—“and sodomized”—she slid over another picture and McKinley slid it back toward her.

  “I particularly don’t want to see those images, Coolidge,” McKinley said, looking away.

  “Those aren’t that kind of image. The last image is of him with the gunshot
wound to his head. He was taken elsewhere where he was killed,” Coolidge said, looking at the pictures and then at McKinley.

  “Why would Nixon kill him?” McKinley asked.

  “Well, that we don’t know for sure. We don’t know if Wright was in the warehouse or if he killed Smith,” Coolidge said.

  “But one thing we do know for sure is that they know each other, and that Wright hired him,” McKinley added and they all nodded in unison.

  McKinley looked at each of the pictures, inspecting them. “These wounds look personal. Like Smith was being punished for something. The slashes on his back were deep enough to cause welts but not enough to go through the second layer of flesh. They were more superficial than anything.”

  “You’re right. And the sexual assault was a way of exerting power over him. By the way, he was sodomized with a foreign object,” Coolidge added.

  He saw as both deputies squirmed in their seats. He could tell that they hadn’t seen this level of gruesome yet which confirmed that they were indeed rookies.

  “So do you have fingerprints of the other guy that actually went into the home to stage the robbery?” McKinley asked.

  “Yes, they belong to Santino Ferreti. He was seen with Smith several times around their neighborhood. We have surveillance on him now and so far he hasn’t left his home in days. Either he’s scared or he’s laying low,” Deputy Constantino said.

  They all looked at each other with the same worried expression.

  “Speaking of which, why did you ask Bush to investigate Wright?” Coolidge added suspiciously.

  “To answer that, we need more help. We need Bush’s assistance,” McKinley said. “In the meantime, we need to go see Wright. Deputy Sloan?”

  “Yes, Agent McKinley,” Deputy Sloan said. Standing at attention as if she were getting commands from her Sergeant.

  “I need you to get an arrest affidavit ready so we can get it signed by a judge ASAP.”

  “Of course, consider it done,” she said as she briskly walked out of the conference room to retrieve her work laptop from her patrol vehicle.

  “Oh yeah, Dr. Kincade confirmed that the girl we found in the warehouse and Jody Sterling are the same person, she was able to get her medical records. The chief sent two deputies to her father’s home, escorted him to the ME’s office, and they were able to identify the body as Sterling’s.”

  McKinley had hoped that his instinct was wrong as he remembered the look of grief and anger of her father. “At least they have closure and can finally give her a proper burial. Maybe Sterling was working for Wright as well. He probably was the white man her father kept mentioning that came looking for her.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right, as it seems that so far two people he’s come close to have died,” Coolidge said.

  “I can almost be certain that the real reason Ferreti has not left his house is because he knows he’s next,” Deputy Constantino added.

  “Yeah,” Coolidge said. “Deputy Constantino, I want you to create several photo line-ups and include Wright’s and Ferreti’s images among them to see if Mr. Sterling, Noelle, or her grandmother can point them out.”

  “Sure, I’ll email the photo line-up specialist to get the necessary information to them. They’re pretty fast on that so I can expect a reply in two hours,” Deputy Constantino said.

  “Thanks,” Coolidge said. “I haven’t received the sketches from Agent Pratt. She had to reschedule with both Noelle’s grandmother and Jody’s father.”

  McKinley nodded as he lifted the corded phone receiver from the conference table and dialed Bush’s office number. Bush answered on the second ring and McKinley placed him on speaker.

  “Hey, did you find out anything else about Wright?”

  “Glad you called. I have some updates for you. This Wright guy, he was a stalker and maybe he still is.”

  “Okay, explain,” Coolidge said.

  “I’m getting there. Well, I did some more digging and while he was in his first year at Huntersville University, he was obsessed with one of his classmates. According to the security incident report, her name was,” he was rummaging through some notes and then said, “Cynthia Prescott, they both had an intro to engineering course. She said that she noticed him maybe after a week, she would see him in random places, she would get notes, trinkets, and chocolates from him. At first, she thought he was an admirer but then one day she got approached by another student, Julius Kingston. Kingston gave Prescott a bouquet of flowers and balloons and kissed her. Wright came out of nowhere in rage and punched Kingston twice so hard it broke his nose. The university security guard was called. Wright was taken to the dean’s office and since it was during finals week he was allowed to take his exams and next semester he comes back to school as if nothing happened but Prescott and Kingston were not on campus any longer. Seems like his parents made a huge donation to the university. Wright came back with a new girlfriend, Rita DiMartino.”

  “Interesting. Can you find DiMartino?” Coolidge asked.

  “I tried looking for all of them. Kingston did not want to talk about it, Prescott is in a mental institute, and DiMartino changed her name, it’s Michelle Stewart now. I found her parents and they told me she moved and gave me her number but I had to go through some great lengths to get it. I called her…”

  In his curiosity and excitement, McKinley interrupted Bush. “Okay, and what did she say?”

  “I told her to expect a call from an FCCA agent that would like to speak to her about Wright she was resistant at first but then agreed if we weren’t going to use anything as a statement, which I reassured her.”

  “That’s perfect,” Coolidge said.

  Bush gave them the number and McKinley noticed that it was a Seattle area code. She really wanted to get away from Huntersville, he thought. They ended the call with Bush and dialed Stewart’s number.

  “Hello,” a female voice from the other end said nervously. She probably looked at the area code and had flashbacks of Huntersville. “Who is this?”

  “Good afternoon, my name is Agent McKinley from the FCCA. My partner Agent Bush said I would call.”

  “Oh yes,” she said with a long sigh of relief. “I was expecting a call sooner and when no one called I assumed it wasn’t that important. How can I help you?”

  “Do you have a few minutes to talk with me in regard to Nixon Wright?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “My husband is about to come from work so I have just a few minutes before he gets here. I haven’t said anything about this to him or to anyone for that matter.”

  “A few minutes is all we need and we’ll be discreet about this.”

  She sighed. “Okay.”

  “Let’s start with how you and Wright met.”

  “Well, I was at a pub and I always went to this same pub and I would notice this cute guy sitting by the bar and we would occasionally exchange glances. I wanted him to make a move but he never did so one day I mustered the courage and went over to him and bought him a drink. At first, he wouldn’t accept it but then I kept insisting. I sat next to him and then he loosened up and we started talking. We hit it off and shortly after we started dating.”

  “Did you notice anything about him that struck you as odd?”

  “Yes, well no, not at first, but then I went over to his house, well his parents’ house at the time, and while he was in the bathroom, I saw a notebook on his dresser. He never left anything out of place, he was very meticulous about his work and about his things, so it was odd that it lay there. I didn’t pick it up because he was that kind of person that when you moved things around he could tell so I carefully opened it and flipped through the pages. I saw names on top of every three pages and it varied from male to female. It had their physical description, approximate height and weight, their address or work address I wasn’t sure, and what they wore, with dates and times. At first, I didn’t think anything of it until I saw my name on it too but before I could read it, he had come out of the
bathroom and I quickly closed the notebook and that was the last time I saw it. I wasn’t sure if he saw me looking through it or not but he never mentioned anything and neither did I.”

  “How was he as a boyfriend?”

  “He was calm and passive but he was very rough and borderline crazy when we had sex.” She cleared her throat. “Sorry, I get a little flustered when I think about it.”

  “No worries, I understand, please explain. I mean proceed.”

  She chuckled and continued. “He was great but he had fetishes and during one of them I almost passed out. He was into chocking, cuffing, beating, and dominating sort of things in bed. I had to ask him several times to tone it down until our relationship became monotonous. We were deep into our studies at school and we would get together for sex and it started to become more like a stress reliever than fun as it used to be.”

  “How long were you two together?”

  “Our relationship lasted four years until one day he called it quits. Quite frankly I didn’t see it coming. I wanted to be with him even though we sort of seemed to be drifting apart. He was good-looking, smart, my parents loved him, he came from a good family, he treated me well, and he was good in bed. But I always knew there was something odd about him. I couldn’t put my finger on it but I knew there was something there.”

  “Like how?”

  “Like he was very secretive, he would never let me sleep over his house but he slept over mine. He would burst into a fit of anger and then like nothing calm down as if nothing happened. He never did anything to me but it did scare me when he did that specially when his things were moved around or when something didn’t go his way.”

  “And that didn’t alarm you?”

  “I was in love or infatuated or whatever it was at that time. So I overlooked a lot of things. I begged him to work things out. But he blocked me then changed his number. He moved on as if what we had never existed. He discarded me as if I was an old rag doll.”

  “Did he ever tell you why?”

  “No, he simply said it was over and never called. I thought he was seeing someone else. I thought it was his cousin’s college friend Barbara…”