The Kristina Melina Omnibus: First Kill, Second Cut, Third Victim by Boulanger Laurent

Author:Boulanger, Laurent [Boulanger, Laurent]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Lake Ozark Press
Published: 2015-06-23T16:00:00+00:00

Two hours later, we brought Malcom Sternwood in for interrogation. We made him aware of his rights, but he refused to have an attorney represent, which was just as well because the last thing we needed was some hot-shot solicitor making the interrogation an nightmare.

Because of the seriousness of the allegation, the interview had to be videotaped in a closed room, connected to a live monitor in another room. Later, Malcom wouldn’t be able to deny anything he had said since it would be recorded.

Before Malcom walked in the room, I had carefully laid Tracy Noland’s blue dress on the table of the interrogation room. The dress was the one she wore when we found her body. It was still covered in mud and botanical residues, but additionally tagged with a VFSC label. Squares had been cut from the dress in various places to conduct forensic tests.

I was hoping to get a reaction from Malcom the moment I re-entered the room. If he killed Tracy Noland, there’d be no way that he could just stand there and ignore the dress. Maybe he would try to avoid looking at it in an obvious manner, or maybe he would break down and want to run out of the room. Either way, if he’d killed the girl, I expected some type of reaction.

I was watching from one of the video monitors in a room adjacent to the interrogation room when Malcom was brought in. The door opened, and a uniformed police officer led him in.

‘Just take a seat,’ the officer said. ‘Someone will be with you shortly.’

The officer left the room immediately.

Malcom looked confused and devastated. At first his eyes circled the room, but suddenly he stopped at the dress on the table. He approached the table, took a close look at the dress and moved back a couple of steps. He seemed puzzled by what he was looking at. And then he began to sob quietly. He walked to one corner of the room, sat down against the wall, his face in his hands and cried.

‘What now?’ Frank said, over my shoulder.

‘We’ll wait and see,’ I answered, my eyes glued to the monitor. ‘Give him a bit of time by himself. He’ll be thinking of a thousand-and-one options. If he killed the girl, right now he’s trying to come up with his best version of the event. Or maybe he doesn’t care any more, and he’s going to tell us the truth.’

Frank didn’t answer. I could feel his breathing behind my neck. I’d forgotten how accustomed we’d become to each other, and if he’d put his hand on my shoulder, I probably would have let him.

Half an hour later, Malcom was still in the corner of the room. He was motionless and had stopped crying.

‘What now?’ Frank asked again.

‘He’s coming to terms with what’s happening to him. He looks in control on the outside, but my bet is that he’s feeling really confused at the realisation of what he has done and how he’s going to cope.

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