Page 37 of 1st Shock
I tap the folder still in my lap. “Do you mind if I take copies of what’s in this folder?”
He blinks once. Then again. And again.
Apparently I’ve confused him. Then it hits me. This guy has been visiting serial killers and suddenly two investigators show up at his door. He’s not stupid. He knows he’s either a suspect or I want his research.
But there’s something else. His relaxed body language. It disturbs me, but my brain won’t latch on to specifics. It swirls in my head like a fog that I can't grab.
"You want...copies? Of my research?"
I hold up my hand. "For reference. I promise I won't share it with anyone outside of our firm, which includes my sister, Charlie." I point to Matt. "And Matt. Who's already heard it all."
"What are you going to do with it?"
"Study it. I have two skulls, reconstructions of murdered young women, in my office. I want to bring them justice." I hold up the folder. "I believe your notes can help."
I peer up at him, waiting for him to decide and the fog in my head clears, makes room for a new idea.
"In fact," I say, "if you'd like to visit my office and see what we're all about, you're more than welcome."
This seems to perk him up. "I could make it part of my research. Include it in my paper."
"Why not? My sister is a forensic psychologist. A profiler. She worked Mickey's case in the past. I'm sure she'd be willing to do an interview."
"Oh, man. That'd be awesome."
Awesome, indeed.
I spend the next five minutes snapping cell phone pictures of his notes. When I finish, I hand the folder back to Devante, and Matt and I make our way to the street where morning sunshine warms my cheeks. I take three full breaths, let all the fresh oxygen invade my body.
"Visit the office?" Matt says. "What the hell was that about?"
"I want to get him on video. Coming in the back door."
"Why?"
"To see if he looks like the guy in the wig."
16
Charlie
Mickey has refused to speak to us, his attorney letting me know in no uncertain terms that "Mr. Wilson has nothing further to say." I sat around this morning waiting for the go-ahead, and instead wasted my time, while my sister and Matt do the legwork of digging into Devante Bales.
JJ is putting pressure on whoever he can, but our convicted serial killer has decided he's the star of the show. Like a king on his throne, he'll let us know when he's ready to talk, if ever. Meanwhile, he's been spilling his guts to this PhD student with regularity.
From what Matt and Meg told me after their visit, Devante doesn't fit a stereotypical serial killer. None of us are completely ruling him out yet, but on the surface, he seems like a normal twenty-four-year-old college kid. I've got Teeg running a background check and should have it by the time I return to the office.
Devante is due to visit us after his three-o'clock class. Heads-up thinking by my sister to get him in our environment where we can put a little pressure on him and see what result we get. Meg and I scanned his interview notes while we ate a quick lunch, but I had to bail in order to deliver a DNA kit to Yvonne after not being able to yesterday.
I arrive at her house the same time Juanita pulls in. Her smile is warm, but doesn't quite meet her eyes as we exchange hellos on the way to the front door. It's only been a few days since she visited the office, but I swear she's lost weight. She has another colorful scarf covering her head, but her skin has taken on a pallor that makes me want to rush her to the hospital.
The clock is ticking. On her, on me.
It's going to come down to Yvonne's mitochondrial DNA to prove—or disprove—this family connection.
Half an hour later, I leave the two women chatting as if they are indeed mother and daughter. If nothing else, they’ve formed a bond that can help Juanita as she faces the coming weeks. A part of me worries their DNAs will not match, and we won't have time to find Juanita's true biological parents before she passes.
I call my dad and a sense of peace washes over me hearing his voice. I'm one of the lucky ones to have parents who love and support me every step of the way, and I can't imagine being at the end, only to find out I might die without knowing who gave me life.
