Page 61 of The Murder Between Us
“What was? What was supposed to stay back then?”
Was it true? Was Andy Garrett the killer they’d been looking for all along?
“Did something happen, Andy?”There has to be a reason this is happening now. Why did the murders start back up?Cole’s voice, in his head. Noah leaned forward. “Did something happen with Jessie, Andy, that made you think of what it was like back then? Back with Monica and Stacy and Kelsey and Paige and Ellen? Did something happen that made you remember how it felt to show those girls who you were? Who was really in charge?”
Garrett stared at him. Emotions tried to flicker in and out of the black centers of Garrett’s eyes. Tears built in the corners. “I loved her,” Garrett whispered. “I didn’t mean—”
“Didn’t mean what, Andy? Didn’t mean what? Didn’t mean to kill her? Kill Jessie? Or kill Monica?”
The tears streaked down Garrett’s face, splashing from his jawline to his scabbed and scarred forearms.
“Didn’t mean what, Andy?”
But Garrett wasn’t saying anything else. The tears fell, but he didn’t say a word. One minute turned into five, and then into ten. Then twenty. Sighing, Noah sat back. He nodded to the one-way mirror.
Cole, Deputy Holland, and Jacob entered. They pulled Garrett up and reshackled his hands behind his back. “Back to the holding cell?”
Noah nodded. “We’ve got another twenty-four hours before we have to charge him. That’s plenty of time for him to come to his senses and start talking to us.” Noah tried to find Garrett’s gaze, tried to catch his eyes. “Talk to me, Andy. Tell me what happened. Explain it to me.”
Everyone waited, but Garrett just let the tears continue to fall. They soaked the jumpsuit the West Des Moines police had brought for him. His feet dragged as they led him out, back down the hall to the holding cell.
Noah sagged against the back wall as Cole crossed to his side. “Pretty clear case of disintegration,” Cole said.
Noah ran his hands through his hair, replaying Garrett’s words, his reactions. His tears. His final words. “‘I didn’t mean to.’ What do you think he means?”
“I think it’s self-explanatory. Especially since he didn’t say that until you brought up Monica. I think it’s looking like he murdered women when he was a college student, something made him run, and now, something has triggered him to murder again. Jessie Olson plays a part in all this, somehow. John Hayes, too.”
“But Kimberly?” Noah frowned. “He didn’t have the same reaction to her.”
“Kimberly has always been the unknown. You didn’t think she was a Coed Killer victim at first.”
“I didn’t know the killer was active when she was murdered. Her killing fits the profile, and the MO, perfectly.”
“The profile is only a guide, and the killer is ultimately in charge of the MO. We need to go over Kimberly’s murder again. Check everything. You thought it was her stalker.”
“You thought it wasn’t.”
Cole shoved his hands in his pants. “I have been wrong before. Occasionally. Once or twice.”
“Once or twice.” It wasn’t appropriate to flirt, or joke, not in an interrogation room where a man had nearly confessed to being the serial killer Noah had hunted for almost a decade. It wasn’t appropriate to lean into Cole, slide his shoulder along the wall until their hands were hidden, or squeeze Cole’s fingers, just briefly. Just once. But he did.
“Sir.”
Noah jerked away, standing straight as Sheriff Clarke strode into the interrogation room. His team of Des Moines police officers flanked him, a young man and woman, each with their hands braced on their duty belts. “Agent Downing, we’ve got something I think you should see.” He held out a folder, flipped open to a report.
A report that showed a young Andrew Garrett White of Sioux Falls, South Dakota, with a juvenile arrest record that stretched back to his preteen years. Petty theft, criminal mischief, Peeping Tom complaints. Stalking.
“How was this missed on his background check?” Noah asked.
“He dropped off his last name. He was going by his mother’s maiden name, not his stepfather’s. His stepfather adopted him when he was four, but there was some kind of paperwork issue with getting Andy’s name officially changed. That let him slip through the cracks, and he took advantage of that when he needed to run.” Sheriff Clarke flipped to the next page for Noah. “Which he needed to do when he was seventeen.”
He was looking at a newspaper report from Vermillion, South Dakota, a city of ten thousand near the South Dakota–Nebraska state line, two miles from Interstate 29.Coed Slain, the headline read.Brittany Dodge, of Junction City, South Dakota, was found Sunday morning on the quad of the University of South Dakota campus.
“Guess who was a freshman at University of South Dakota then?” The sheriff handed Noah a copy of Andy Garrett White’s University of South Dakota ID card. “He transferred to Iowa State the next spring semester.”
Noah scanned Andy’s high school transcript and his admission record to the University of South Dakota. High school JROTC. Fishing club. Wrestling. Good grades: As and one or two Bs.
“God damn it.” He forced himself not to ball up the report, fling the folder against the wall. “Thanks, Sheriff. This is good work.”
