CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Ella followed Luca into the interrogation room. She'd ceded the lead to her partner, but old habits died hard. Every fiber of her being itched to take control and steer the questioning down paths Luca might overlook.
But she'd made a promise to him and to herself. Time to let Luca shine, even if it meant biting her tongue until it bled.
Gabriel Thorne sat slumped at the metal table, nursing bruises to body and ego. He looked up as they sat down, and Ella clocked the telltale tics of guilt: the rapid blinking, the knee bounce, the fingers knotting and unknotting like he was trying to weave a credible lie on the fly. His designer suit had transformed into expensive garbage, and the bruise from Luca's right hook painted abstract art across his jaw in shades of purple.
‘So, Gabe - mind if I call you Gabe? I've been reading up on you. Gotta say, your sticky fingers get around. Baseball cards, rare coins, depression glass. you're a regular Robin Hood. What I can't figure is how a two-bit grifter makes the jump to murder.’
Too blunt, Ella thought. Build rapport first. Establish baseline facts. Get them comfortable before you start throwing haymakers. But she held her tongue, even as her fingers itched to grab the wheel.
Thorne's eyes darted between them. ‘I told you, I didn’t murder anyone. I’ve never met Eleanor, haven’t seen Alfred in forever. What do you want from me?’
‘It’s funny, because both of our victims have connections to your workplace, and we believe our perp has a thing for masks. Seems like you do too.’
No, Ella thought. You didn’t give away details like the masks right at the beginning. You leave the small details open-ended for the suspect to fill in themselves.
‘Masks? What?’
‘I was in your office. I saw that display on the wall.’
‘Oh, them. They were a gift. A collector passed away and left them to me. I can show you the paperwork.’
‘Right, because mask collecting is big around here, is it?’
Ella's fingers dug into her biceps. Wrong approach. All wrong. You didn't come at suspects with sarcasm - it just made them defensive. Psychology 101. But she'd promised to stay quiet, to let Luca learn through his mistakes. Even if those mistakes were killing her by inches.
‘Yeah, it is actually. Chesapeake has collector events and trade shows every year. Maybe do some research before you start spouting crap.’
Luca had the decency to look sheepish. She clocked the momentary stumble, so she jumped in. 'We've only been here two days, Mr. Thorne, and I think we've learned a lot in that time. About this city. About you.'
‘Yeah, right.’
‘We have. Tell him, Hawkins.’
Luca composed himself, leaned forward with his hands together. ‘We know you’ve got a long history of theft to your name. We know you work for Vanessa Blackburn, and we know you’re one of only three people who have access to all of your company’s client information.’
Better, Ella thought. Give the suspect the facts and let them fill in the blanks. Feed them enough rope, and they'll eventually hang themselves.
'And that's not all, is it, Hawkins?' Ella added. She gently squeezed his forearm under the table. Luca flinched at the touch, and she hoped the reaction was born of unexpected pressure on his injuries, not anything else.
‘No. We also know you’re the kind of person who tries to kill themselves when faced with capture. How’d you find that unit full of kerosene, anyway?’
‘Saw it before you got there. Call it an impulsive move.’
‘So what kind of person would impulsively torch themselves, do you think? Someone who knows they’re going to jail for the long haul?’
‘I'm not-’ Thorne's throat worked as he swallowed. ‘Those murders. Calloway, Finch. I had nothing to do with that.’
Distancing language. No personal connection, no expressions of remorse or shock. The observations piled up in Ella's mind like bullet casings. Now Luca just needed to keep pressing. Once you got their throat bobbing, you had momentum on your side.
‘I might be more inclined to believe that if you hadn’t tried to torch yourself at the first opportunity. The last person I saw do that had killed four people, so I’ll ask you again; what are you trying to hide?’
Yes! Ella tamped down the urge to pump her fist. Hammer that point home. Make him see how it looks from our side.
‘Because…’ Thorne began, but any follow-up died as he sighed upward.
‘If you’ve got something to say, now’s the time, Gabe,’ pressed Luca. ‘Right now, you’re our prime suspect, so our team are going to dissect every little thing about you. If I were you, I’d start talking, or you’re looking at a criminal charge before the day is out.’
Ella said, ‘Resisting arrest, assaulting a federal agent, and that’s just in the past hour.’
Thorne's fingers flexed. He cracked his neck, then shrank back in his chair. ‘I ran because… I’d rather die than go back to prison. I told you this.’
‘And why would we send you to prison?’
‘Because… all of this… it’s fraudulent.’
Luca shot a sidelong glance at Ella. A silent what’s he talking about? Some perps reached a stage where they just threw any old crap at the wall and hoped some stuck. Or maybe Thorne was trying the sympathy angle. The old Ted Bundy-inspired it was pornography’s fault, not mine.
‘Fraudulent?’
‘Look, I’m telling you the truth. On my mother’s grave. I’m not a murderer. I’m just a fraud, like everyone else in this game.’
Curiosity reared its head, but Ella wasn’t sure if such a confession was going to get her any closer to her unsub. For the past ten minutes, she’d been close to certain that Thorne had something to do with these homicides, but now, seeing that raw grief on his face, she wasn’t so sure.
‘Explain,’ Luca said.
‘You’re the FBI, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘I knew you guys would show up eventually, but not because of murder.’
‘Because of what, then?’
Thorne huffed, like the answer was obvious. ‘Come on. What’s worse than a murderer?’
Ella had heard this one. The answer usually took the form of a joke, but maybe not in this case.
Luca cocked a brow. ‘I don’t know.’
‘A tax evader,’ Ella said.
‘Bingo. The clients we work for, they pay us five, ten, fifteen grand for a day’s work. What piece of paper is worth that much money? You could buy a PHD for less.’
Luca asked, ‘So… then what?’
'Why would someone pay that much money for a certificate? I just go round people's houses, throwing almost random figures at ornaments, artwork, rare insects. Do you think these collectors are just after verification? No, they want a return on that investment.'
‘So?’
‘So I put an official figure on their stupid item. Hundred grand for Chinese vase, five million for an old crucifix. Half a mil for some 1985 Air Jordans, maybe.’
Luca scrubbed a hand across his face. Ella remained quiet, although she had a good idea where this was headed.
‘Okay, and?’
‘These collectors take the item, and like the generous souls they are, donate it to a museum or an art gallery or whatever. And of course, that donor then gets a tax break for the value of the item – which we assigned.’
Ella had seen this in action. She donated old clothes and books to a charity store a few times a year, then a few weeks later, they’d email her saying she could claim a tax allowance for about two dollars. Thorne’s deal was the same, just on a grand scale.
Luca said, ‘So that’s why you ran? Because you thought we’d catch onto your tax avoidance scheme?’
Thorne nodded hesitantly. ‘Yes, but we don’t avoid tax ourselves. Me and Vanessa and Sarah. We just help others to do so, and I knew it was only a matter of time before you found out.’
Ella paused and mentally took a step back to see the whole picture at a glance. Gabriel Thorne was a crooked appraiser who over-valued collectibles so rich people could pay less tax. For his efforts, he received four or five-figure payouts.
Not a bad scam, and none of it was shocking. People and corporations had been pulling this trick for decades in one form or another, and Ella figured the collecting world was ideal for it since value was determined by factors other than supply and demand. Thorne could pretty much stick whatever he number he wanted on any item as long as it was one-of-a-kind.
Yes, there was definite criminal activity here, but Ella wasn’t hunting some white-collar scammer. She was looking for a serial killer, and Thorne fled at the mention of them back at the storage units.
Luca must have been following the same train of thought, because he asked, ‘What about those trinkets I found in your drawers? Watches, broaches, necklaces.’
Thorne’s laugh was brittle. ‘Alright, I’m not going to lie to you. Those things are red hot.’
‘Hot? As in…?’
‘Stolen. Hot property. Lift ‘em and shift ‘em.’
‘I got that,’ Luca said, ‘but stolen from who?’
‘Anyone. Mostly people I appraise for. You think some rich old guy is going to notice a watch missing from his collection? No. So I just used to take it.’
‘Why?’
‘I couldn’t help it. Even now, there’s something about these people that… infuriates me.’
Ella snagged on that comment. The chances of Gabriel Thorne being her killer had halved during the interrogation, but he seemed to harbor a love-hate relationship with the collectors he worked with, and he had that in common with the person who killed Eleanor and Alfred.
‘Infuriates you how?’ she asked.
But before Thorne could answer, the door crashed open hard enough to rattle dust from the ceiling tiles. A flushed and breathless Detective Reeves stood in the doorway.
‘Agents. A word. Now.’
Luca shot Ella a confused look that doubled as a silent question. Ella shook her head minutely. No clue. But judging from the seasick pallor of Reeves' complexion, it wasn't good news.
‘Be back in one minute, Gabe,’ he said. The agents left the interrogation room and locked the door behind them. Out in the corridor, Reeves gestured for them to follow him downstairs.
‘I don’t want to ruin your day, but we’ve got something downstairs,’ he said.
Ella hurried to keep up. ‘What is it?’
Reeves paused halfway down. ‘A guy just dropped off a mask.’
Ella’s spine snapped straight. ‘What guy? What kind of mask?’
'Mask? You'll see. And the guy? Well, let's just say we're in luck because we've got him in holding right now.'