said, “You burned it first. But you missed an edge. And it’s sporting residue matching the adhesive from the electrical tape binding her wrists.”
I couldn’t manage a response.
Kaden laughed at my stunned expression, though there was no amusement in his eyes. “Framed again, huh? One-armed man on the grassy knoll?”
“I didn’t do this,” I said quietly.
“That’s odd, because the killer duplicated every specific. The precise angle of the stab wound. The positioning of the body. The way the head was turned, hair down over the right eye. Not exactly the level of detail we put out for the six o’ clock news.”
My thoughts bled one into the next.
“Here’s the kicker,” Kaden continued. “That little piece of un-burnt plastic drop cloth we found in your trash can? It had some more surprises for us. The victim’s blood. Your blood. And as for your bleach bath? Missed a few spots. Your hair under a fingernail. Traces of your blood on the pad of her foot.”
I cannot have done this. It’s impossible that I did this last night.
“As far as we can determine, there is only one connection between the victims,” Kaden said. “And that’s you.”
I pointed at the body in the photo. “I don’t know who that woman is. Why would I kill her?”
“You’re trying to tell us you didn’t do this, and you’ve spent the thirty-six hours since your release digging around in the mud of the case you were just acquitted for? Stalking Katherine Harriman. Trying to get ahold of the key criminalist from the investigation. You’re giving new meaning to returning to the scene of the crime.”
He nodded at Delveckio, who walked to the corner, reached up, and unplugged the security camera pointing down at us. Kaden set both hands on the lip of the table, leaning over so his face was a few feet from mine. He shoved until the ledge of wood struck my lower ribs and sent me and my chair skidding back with it. The table hit the walls on either side of me, trapping me in the corner. “Decent-sized fella like yourself might be feeling a touch cramped right about now. Get used to it. Because that’s your cell size for the rest of your life. ”
Kaden stepped back. Pacing, he cuffed his sleeves up past his wide forearms. “Let’s pretend I’m playing bad cop. But see, this game is different. There is no good cop. This is bad cop-bad cop. Delveckio and I, there’s no one we hate more than killers of women. We watched you slip off once. We’re not gonna do it again.”
I glanced at Delveckio. Considerate of Kaden to make room for him under the macho umbrella. With his thin frame and watery eyes, Delveckio was not the most threatening figure. Kaden, on the other hand, looked ready to jam his fingers through my face and use my head as a bowling ball.
He continued, “We’re willing to rough you up. We’re willing to snap fingers. We’re willing to crack ribs. And we’re willing to testify how we had to because you were belligerent and violent. We’d rather not, but we will. You can go through it or you can skip it, but either way you’re talking, and you don’t have a brain tumor to save your murdering ass this go-round.”
The crime-scene photo had skidded off the table into my lap. Upside down, it looked even more grotesque. Blood and severed flesh, without orientation.
The familiar sickness started in my stomach, dampening my skin. The sweat-stained hospital sheets. The voices echoing off my cell walls. The scabs had lifted to reveal the same horrible scene. Where was I? What had I done? I felt a sudden caving-in of my resolve. The utter demoralization of long-awaited defeat, of laying down arms and giving in to the inevitable. Maybe I had done it. I could not exactly claim to remember the last time I’d encountered a body under similar circumstances. The evidence, Genevieve, my mental lapses—it was too much.
Where were you last night between ten-thirty and two A.M. ?
Home alone. Out cold. Yeah,
I couldn’t manage a response.
Kaden laughed at my stunned expression, though there was no amusement in his eyes. “Framed again, huh? One-armed man on the grassy knoll?”
“I didn’t do this,” I said quietly.
“That’s odd, because the killer duplicated every specific. The precise angle of the stab wound. The positioning of the body. The way the head was turned, hair down over the right eye. Not exactly the level of detail we put out for the six o’ clock news.”
My thoughts bled one into the next.
“Here’s the kicker,” Kaden continued. “That little piece of un-burnt plastic drop cloth we found in your trash can? It had some more surprises for us. The victim’s blood. Your blood. And as for your bleach bath? Missed a few spots. Your hair under a fingernail. Traces of your blood on the pad of her foot.”
I cannot have done this. It’s impossible that I did this last night.
“As far as we can determine, there is only one connection between the victims,” Kaden said. “And that’s you.”
I pointed at the body in the photo. “I don’t know who that woman is. Why would I kill her?”
“You’re trying to tell us you didn’t do this, and you’ve spent the thirty-six hours since your release digging around in the mud of the case you were just acquitted for? Stalking Katherine Harriman. Trying to get ahold of the key criminalist from the investigation. You’re giving new meaning to returning to the scene of the crime.”
He nodded at Delveckio, who walked to the corner, reached up, and unplugged the security camera pointing down at us. Kaden set both hands on the lip of the table, leaning over so his face was a few feet from mine. He shoved until the ledge of wood struck my lower ribs and sent me and my chair skidding back with it. The table hit the walls on either side of me, trapping me in the corner. “Decent-sized fella like yourself might be feeling a touch cramped right about now. Get used to it. Because that’s your cell size for the rest of your life. ”
Kaden stepped back. Pacing, he cuffed his sleeves up past his wide forearms. “Let’s pretend I’m playing bad cop. But see, this game is different. There is no good cop. This is bad cop-bad cop. Delveckio and I, there’s no one we hate more than killers of women. We watched you slip off once. We’re not gonna do it again.”
I glanced at Delveckio. Considerate of Kaden to make room for him under the macho umbrella. With his thin frame and watery eyes, Delveckio was not the most threatening figure. Kaden, on the other hand, looked ready to jam his fingers through my face and use my head as a bowling ball.
He continued, “We’re willing to rough you up. We’re willing to snap fingers. We’re willing to crack ribs. And we’re willing to testify how we had to because you were belligerent and violent. We’d rather not, but we will. You can go through it or you can skip it, but either way you’re talking, and you don’t have a brain tumor to save your murdering ass this go-round.”
The crime-scene photo had skidded off the table into my lap. Upside down, it looked even more grotesque. Blood and severed flesh, without orientation.
The familiar sickness started in my stomach, dampening my skin. The sweat-stained hospital sheets. The voices echoing off my cell walls. The scabs had lifted to reveal the same horrible scene. Where was I? What had I done? I felt a sudden caving-in of my resolve. The utter demoralization of long-awaited defeat, of laying down arms and giving in to the inevitable. Maybe I had done it. I could not exactly claim to remember the last time I’d encountered a body under similar circumstances. The evidence, Genevieve, my mental lapses—it was too much.
Where were you last night between ten-thirty and two A.M. ?
Home alone. Out cold. Yeah,
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