CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Margaret had been cleared by the bureau's medical team twenty-five minutes ago.
No concussion, no serious injuries beyond some cuts from broken glass and bruising from the airbag deployment.
They thought her wrist might be fractured at first, but that turned out not to be the case.
She was alert, responsive, and, according to the attending physician, perfectly capable of understanding her rights and participating in an interrogation.
Kate studied Margaret through the one-way glass before entering the interview room.
The woman looked smaller somehow than she had during the chase, diminished by the orange jumpsuit and the reality of her situation.
Her brown hair hung loose around her shoulders, no longer pulled back in the professional ponytail she'd worn that morning.
Her hands were folded calmly in her lap, and for someone facing multiple murder charges, her expression was oddly serene.
"Ready?" DeMarco asked, tapping at the small recording device they would carry into the room.
Kate nodded and opened the door, stepping into the sterile space where Margaret Holloway waited to confess to three murders.
The interview room was standard FBI issue: a metal table bolted to the floor, three uncomfortable chairs, and walls painted in a shade of beige that was designed to be completely neutral.
Margaret looked up as they entered, her eyes clear and focused despite everything she had been through that morning.
"Mrs. Holloway," Kate said, settling into the chair across from her. "I'm Agent Wise, and this is Agent DeMarco. We'd like to ask you some questions about the deaths of Carol Bennett, Thomas Rodriguez, and Linda Harper."
"I know who you are," Margaret replied, her voice steady and matter-of-fact. "And I know why you're here."
DeMarco placed the recording device on the table and activated it. "This interview is being recorded. You've been read your rights, and you've waived your right to an attorney. Is that correct?"
"Yes, that's correct." Margaret's hands remained folded, her posture calm and controlled.
Kate leaned forward slightly. "Margaret, we have strong reason to believe you are connected to the three deaths Agent DeMarco just mentioned. Your business phone number appears in the call logs of all three victims. We know you visited their homes in the weeks before they died."
"I did visit their homes," Margaret said without hesitation. "They were all clients of New Beginnings Home Design."
"And what did you do during those visits?" DeMarco asked.
Margaret met her gaze directly. "I provided interior design consultations. I helped them select paint colors, furniture arrangements, and lighting options. And I added pills to their prescription medications."
The casual way she delivered the confession was chilling. Kate had interviewed dozens of killers over her career, but few had been so matter-of-fact about their crimes. She’d mentioned it as if was a case of “Oh, and I left a few extra plush pillows for them to use as they wanted.”
"What kind of pills?" Kate asked.
"Potassium chloride mixed with a fast-acting sedative," Margaret replied, as if she were discussing fabric samples.
"I purchased empty gelatin capsules online and filled them myself.
The potassium chloride causes cardiac arrest, while the sedative ensures the victim loses consciousness quickly and doesn't suffer. "
DeMarco typed notes quickly out on her phone while Margaret spoke, her fingers little more than a blur. "How did you gain access to their medications?"
"It was quite simple, actually. During my consultations, I would excuse myself to use the bathroom or get something from my van. While they were distracted by fabric samples or paint chips, I would find their prescription bottles and add two or three of my pills to each container."
Kate studied Margaret's expression, looking for any sign of remorse or emotional distress. Instead, she saw only the clinical detachment of someone discussing a professional project.
"Why those specific victims?" Kate asked.
"They all fit the picture I was looking for…
the right kind of people," Margaret said.
"Empty-nesters who had recently welcomed adult children back home.
Parents who were struggling with anxiety about their family situations, who were taking medication to cope with the stress of trying to help children who couldn't help themselves. "
"Okay, but that doesn’t explain—" DeMarco started, but Margaret quickly interrupted her.
"They needed to be saved. They didn't understand what they were setting themselves up for, what kind of heartbreak was waiting for them down the road."
"What heartbreak?" DeMarco asked.
"The inevitable disappointment. The watching and waiting and hoping, only to realize that love isn't enough to fix what's broken.
The slow destruction of…" She stopped her, and a tear came trailing down her cheek.
She wiped it away at once, as if it burned.
"The destruction of believing that this time would be different, that support and encouragement would finally be enough to turn everything around. "
Kate felt a chill at the conviction in Margaret's voice. "You believed you were helping them?"
"I was helping them. I was preserving the love and hope before it could turn into resentment and enabling. They would never have to experience the moment when they realized their children couldn't be saved, when they understood that all their sacrifice and support had been wasted."
The psychological framework was becoming clear to Kate. Margaret had developed a delusional system in which killing loving parents was an act of mercy, sparing them from the emotional pain she believed was inevitable.
"Margaret," Kate said gently, "tell me about your daughter."
The change in Margaret's demeanor was immediate and dramatic. Her composed facade cracked, and for the first time since entering the room, her eyes filled with tears. There would be much more than the single one that had escaped several seconds ago.
"Sarah," she whispered, her voice breaking on the name.
"What happened to Sarah?" Kate asked.
Margaret's hands began to shake as she lifted them to wipe at her eyes.
She looked to Kate as if she'd been tricked, as if Kate had no business knowing about her daughter.
"She was supposed to come home. She'd broken up with her boyfriend, this terrible man who treated her horribly, controlled her, and isolated her from her family.
When she finally found the courage to leave him, she called me and said she wanted to come home for a while, just until she could get back on her feet. "
"When was this?"
"About six months back. May 14th. She was supposed to drive over that evening after work, bring some of her things, and stay in her old room.
" Margaret's voice grew thick with grief.
"I was so excited. I cleaned her room, bought groceries for all her favorite meals, and even picked up flowers for her dresser. "
"But she didn't make it home," Kate said softly.
"He followed her from work. Her boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, whatever he was.
He followed her and started ramming her car with his truck, trying to run her off the road.
" Margaret's tears were flowing freely now.
"She called 911, but she was so scared that she was driving too fast. It was raining, the roads were slick, and she lost control on a curve. "
The story poured out of Margaret in broken sentences punctuated by sobs. "She hit a tree. Died instantly, they said. Just two miles from my house. Two miles from safety, from home, from her mother who would have protected her and loved her and helped her start over."
Kate felt a deep sadness for this woman's loss, even knowing what that loss had driven her to do. "I'm very sorry about Sarah, Margaret."
"She was coming home to me," Margaret continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "She trusted me to take care of her, to help her heal from what that bastard had put her through. And I failed her. I couldn't save her."
The psychological break was clear now. Margaret had channeled her grief and guilt over failing to save her own daughter into a twisted mission to "save" other parents from the pain she was experiencing.
"So you decided to… to save other parents instead," DeMarco said.
"I couldn't let them go through what I'm going through," Margaret replied, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jumpsuit.
"Watching Carol Bennett prepare that room for her son, seeing how excited she was about helping him get back on his feet.
.. I knew how it would end. Adult children who move back home, they always disappoint in the end.
They take advantage of their parents' love, they become dependent, they drain the life and hope out of the people who care about them most."
"But that's not what happened with Sarah," Kate pointed out. "Sarah was trying to escape an abusive relationship. She was seeking help."
"And look how that ended," Margaret said bitterly. "She died trying to get away from him, died coming to me for help. If she'd never left him in the first place, if she'd just stayed away from me, she might still be alive."
Kate could see the devastating logic of Margaret's delusion. In her damaged psyche, she had somehow convinced herself that Sarah's death was the result of seeking parental support, rather than the result of an abuser's violence.
"Margaret," Kate said, "the parents you killed weren't automatically going to experience what you experienced.
Their children weren't all running from abusers. They were just people going through difficult times who needed support from their families. And now… now, you’ve taken away any chance they had at having that reunion. "
"You don't understand," Margaret replied, her voice gaining strength again. "I saved them from years of watching their children fail over and over again. I preserved the love and hope they felt in that moment when they thought everything was going to work out."
“Yes, but you—”
“No!” she yelled, interrupting Kate. “No. No more right now, please. Please. I’ve confessed. I’ve told you everything you wanted to know. Now just… leave me alone for a while.”
Usually Kate would still press a bit harder, but Margaret was right. She’d confessed and waived her right to counsel. There was no need to keep pushing right now.
“Yes. For now, we’ll leave you be,” Kate said. She got to her feet, and DeMarco opened the door.
When they stepped outside of the room, Kate felt emotionally drained.
Margaret Holloway was clearly suffering from some form of psychotic break triggered by her daughter's traumatic death.
While she would face murder charges, Kate doubted she would see traditional prison time.
Not right away, anyway. More likely, she would be committed to a psychiatric institution where she could receive treatment for whatever mental illness had driven her to kill three innocent people.
But depending on how she conducted herself during the trial, standard prison-time might very well be in her future. And a hell of a lot of it.
As they made their way down the hall, DeMarco immediately pulled out her phone. "We need to contact all of Margaret's recent clients," she said. "Anyone who had a consultation in the past month could have contaminated medication in their homes."
Kate nodded, already thinking about the urgency of the situation. "How many clients are we talking about?"
"According to the business records that were pulled for us, at least twelve consultations in the past six weeks."
They spent the next hour making phone calls, working their way through Margaret's client list and warning each person to dispose of any prescription medications immediately and seek medical attention if they had taken any pills since Margaret's visit to their home.
Those calls were difficult to navigate. Most clients were shocked to learn that the pleasant interior designer who had helped them select new curtains was actually a serial killer who might have contaminated their medications.
Several people became hysterical, convinced they had already been poisoned.
Others refused to believe the information initially, insisting there had to be some mistake.
But by the end of the afternoon, Kate and DeMarco had potentially saved several lives by warning Margaret's clients about the danger in their medicine cabinets. It wasn't enough to undo the damage that had already been done to the Bennett, Rodriguez, and Harper families, but it was something.
As Kate prepared to leave the field office, she reflected on the tragic chain of events that had led to this point.
Sarah Holloway's death had been a genuine tragedy, the result of domestic violence and an abuser's determination to maintain control even after his victim had escaped.
But Margaret's response to that tragedy had created additional victims, destroying three families in the name of sparing them future pain.
Kate thought about Allen and Michael waiting for her at home, and she felt grateful for the stability and love they provided.
She understood Margaret's fear about adult children disappointing their parents, about the complex dynamics that could develop when family members moved back home during crises.
But she also understood that love and support, even when imperfect, were better than the alternative Margaret had chosen.
The case was closed, but its emotional impact would linger. Kate knew she would be thinking about Sarah Holloway and Margaret's twisted form of love for her child for a long time to come.