All the Pretty Girls - J. T. Ellison [120]
They made their way down the hall to the Homicide office, chatting. Turning the corner, they found Fitz, Lincoln, Marcus and Captain Price waiting. They didn’t look happy.
“What’s wrong with you guys? You look like the party’s over before it’s even begun. Where’s Buckley?” Taylor peered out of the office toward the interrogation rooms. The lights were on in one. Jake Buckley, the Southern Strangler, would be behind that door. A wave of excitement rolled through her.
Price answered Taylor, looking glum. “He lawyered up. Won’t say a thing, just keeps repeating the word. Lawyer, lawyer, lawyer. He, uh, needs a phone to make the call, but we haven’t found a phone that works yet.”
“Smart move, Cap. Why don’t you let Baldwin and I give it a go, see if he decides to play with us. We have some background on him from his wife. Let’s see if his guilt about her will let him open up.”
“That’s what we were waiting on. Go for it. But if he asks again, we’ll have to let him call his lawyer. Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised to see one wander through the door any second. You were with the wife, right? Wouldn’t she be calling one for him right about now?”
Baldwin shook his head. “I don’t think Quinn Buckley’s going to be doing much of anything in the way of helping her husband right now. She’s one very upset lady.”
“Okay then, give it a whirl. The body was taken to the M.E.’s office. ‘Torn to shreds’ was the phrase the arresting officer used.”
“Torn to shreds?” Taylor turned to look at Price.
“Apparently she’d been stabbed, her throat cut, couple of visible broken bones. Torn up.”
“And the hands?” Baldwin asked.
“Intact. Looked like a frenzied killing, maybe he got interrupted before he could finish, decided to dump the body in the trunk and get out of Dodge. I don’t know. And there’s more good news. There was also a bag found in the wheel well under the trunk liner. A whole murder kit. Rope, tape, a military-type K-Bar knife, scalpels…crime scene techs are sorting it all right now. There’s forensic evidence galore in that bag. Oh, and look at this.”
Price handed Taylor a green file folder. Baldwin looked over her shoulder while she flipped through it. The first photo was of Ivy Clark’s mutilated body, stowed in the trunk of the car. Leafing through the file, Taylor stopped at a photo of an overnight bag. An innocuous black leather bag, full to the brim with death.
Price smiled grimly. “Found everything in here. But that’s not the best part. Look at the close-up.”
She flipped to the next picture. There was a very distinct monogram embossed into the leather with the initials J-W-B in gold. Taylor shook her head in amazement.
“His own personally monogrammed murder kit. How convenient. Okay, let me at him. See what I can shake out.” She looked at Baldwin. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Price motioned toward the interrogation-room door. “We’ll be on the other side, watching. Good luck.”
Taylor opened the door and strode into the room. It was relatively small, just enough space for a table and four chairs. The walls were an institutional shade of robin’s-egg blue, marred only by a mirror. She gave Price and the team a few moments to get themselves situated as Baldwin took one of the chairs opposite a haggard-looking man. Taylor eyed him, he was about her age, mid thirties, but his disheveled appearance added a decade to his rugged good looks. His beard was growing in, his hair was tousled. He had a small drop of blood at the corner of his mouth. Taylor figured that would be the best way to get him to open up. She glanced at Baldwin, who gave her a nod. She was the lead right now. He’d back her up if and when necessary.
Jake Buckley watched her as she entered, pure hatred in his eyes. He didn’t look as defeated as he had just moments before. Taylor tsk-tsked, stepped out of the room, then came back in with a tissue box. She offered one to him, a conciliatory