“Good,” said Josie, her gaze finding Henry’s once more. “I’d like to take Mr. Thomas to the station and ask him some questions.”
ELEVEN
Henry Thomas was too relaxed. He sat at the cigarette-scarred table in one of their interview rooms, shoulders leaned back as far as the chair would allow, legs splayed out, chin dipped to his chest. Josie watched him on the CCTV from the viewing room adjacent. She adjusted the sound on the computer to confirm that he was snoring. In her experience, the only people who snored in interview rooms were guilty people. Innocent people were usually so freaked out by being in one of them that they paced or tapped their feet or drummed their fingers on the table. Frequently, they shouted for someone to please hurry and come talk with them.
Henry Thomas had done none of those things. He was the most cooperative person of interest that Josie had ever seen. When she had asked him at the scene to come with her, he’d agreed without question. She had walked him into the cabin and watched him put on a shirt and shoes and grab his wallet. He had handed over his phone for them to peruse, along with his passcode. He hadn’t protested at all when she put him in the back of a cruiser and sent him to police headquarters ahead of her with instructions for him to be shown into an interview room to wait for her.
Now, he was snoring.
A knock sounded at the door and then their desk sergeant, Dan Lamay, poked his head inside. “Boss,” he said.
Josie winced but Lamay didn’t seem to notice. “Just Josie, please, Dan.”
If he registered her words, he didn’t show it. Instead, he opened the door wider to reveal a box of pizza in one hand. “I got it plain, like you asked. Had to go to that all-night place by the college. I didn’t think they’d be open around now but they were.”
Josie managed a smile. “Thanks, Dan.”
She took the pizza from him and went into the interview room. Henry startled when she entered, legs kicking out. He blinked and sat up straight, running a hand through his thick hair. Josie put the pizza on the table and slid it toward him. “Thought you might be hungry,” she said.
Slowly, he leaned in and opened the box, peering inside. “You guys didn’t happen to turn off my toaster oven, did you? I’d hate for my place to burn down.”
“My colleague did, yes,” Josie answered. She took the chair closest to him, angled to face him. As he wolfed down a slice of pizza, she read off his Miranda rights which he acknowledged before grabbing another slice.
She waited for him to ask for a lawyer, but he didn’t.
“Mr. Thomas,” she said. “Do you know why you’re here?”
Around a mouthful of pizza, he said, “You think I did something to some girl?”
Josie took out her phone and pulled up the photo of Kayleigh Patchett, turning the screen so he could see it. “Kayleigh Patchett. Sixteen years old. She was abducted in the woods a few miles from your home earlier today. Our K-9 unit followed her scent to your home.”
He grunted.
“Do you know her?”
“Nope.”
“Have you ever seen her before?”
“Nope.”
“The cabin? That yours?” She already knew the answer, of course. She had looked him up in every database she could access as soon as she got back to the station. Property records showed that he’d purchased it a year earlier in cash. It hadn’t cost much, probably due to its location. Josie didn’t know many people who would want to live on land where over a hundred dead girls had been unearthed.
“Yeah,” said Henry. “It’s mine. Bought it outright with money my dad left me. He died about two years ago.”
“The traps in your spare bedroom,” said Josie. “Were those his?”
“His name’s on the boxes, isn’t it?”
“You don’t trap?”
“Don’t have a license. Besides, there’s a lot of rules you have to follow. I don’t have the patience.”
“Did you ever trap with him?” Josie asked.
He shrugged. “Sure, when I was a kid.”
Changing tack, Josie said, “Tell me about your movements today. Starting with when you woke up until we came to your door.”