Chapter Six
Jonesy
“You mentioned in your interview with Detective Williams that you couldn’t remember the events of the night in question, May fifteenth.
Have you had any memory blackouts before?
” Katie asks Connor Maddox, the suspect who has no cuffs on him, whilst he’s in the room on his own with her.
What kind of security is in place for her safety? This place is a joke.
I’m sitting behind the window again, this time without her as she conducts the first psychological evaluation.
The purpose of this is to build some trust, some rapport, and get a sense of the suspect’s current mental state, maybe a little of their family history.
It’s a broad range and really depends on where the suspect leads the conversation.
I sit nose to glass, my elbows resting on my knees as I lean as close as possible.
I’m watching him. Waiting for him to show one single clue that he means to hurt her.
He could have the opportunity. It would take someone at least fifteen seconds to get him off her if he decides to pounce.
Too long. But Katie insisted. It’s standard procedure, she says.
Fuck standard procedure when a killer is sitting two feet across from you.
“No, I’ve never had that before.” Picking at the skin around his fingers, he flits between wanting to overexplain himself and shutting the hell up and not saying anything.
It’s confusing; he’s hard to read because his fear is genuine.
But whether he’s scared he’s gotten caught or scared he’s being held for a crime he didn’t commit remains to be seen.
“Can you run me through the night until the moment you black out?”
“Some of it’s fuzzy. I remember the beginning,” he says, his voice wobbling.
“Then let's start there. We have all the time we need, so don’t rush.”
I huff out a breath and run my hand over my mouth.
Fuck that.
Get in, get the answers, and get back behind this glass where he can’t reach out and touch you. I’m aching to talk to her, to remind her that there are people out there who care for her deeply. Alfie, Lottie, Caleb . . . me.
“We went out for Jarred’s birthday. He was turning twenty-four.”
“You were also just promoted, I heard. Were you celebrating that too?”
“Yes. I had just been promoted, but the boys weren’t aware of it. It was supposed to be announced on Monday. Obviously, that didn’t happen.” A stray tear falls down his cheek, and he angrily rubs it away.
“No one knew about your promotion?”
“No.”
“So you were out celebrating Jarred’s birthday. Who was there with you?”
“Jarred, obviously. Billy, Henry, Saint, and Disney.”
“Okay, from my notes, that’s Jarred Jenkins, William Owens, Henry Sutton, Diego Martinez, and Tyler Walters. Jarred, Billy, and Henry make sense. Explain Saint and Disney to me.” She smiles and manages to crack one out of Connor, too.
“Saint . . . his real name is Diego, like San Diego. San is just Saint in Spanish. Besides, we grill him for being the worst Catholic there is, so there’s that. Ty, his surname is Walters, like Walt . . . Walt Disney. And he looks just like that cartoon from Tangled. You know, the thief.”
“Right, Flynn Ryder.”
“You know your Disney.”
“My niece loves it. She thought Rapunzel was way better than Frozen.”
“She’s right, my niece loves it too. I’ve seen both films a hundred times each.” He laughs before seemingly remembering where he is and rubs a knuckle into his eye.
“Do you think the boys would be happy to find out you got promoted?” she asks softly, steering him back on topic.
“Yeah, of course. They’re my boys. I couldn’t wait to tell them. We’ve known it’s been coming for a few months, but nothing was confirmed. They’d be stoked for sure.”
She jots something else down on her notepad.
She’s determining his friendship interactions and how close he is with people.
Is there a reason he doesn’t confide in them?
Are they close? Does he have real intimacy with people, even platonically?
By her questions, you’d never guess that because she’s that subtle.
That good at her job. She puts the emphasis on what he thinks the other men would think, and in doing so, she finds out what he thinks of them.
“Okay, so you and the boys go out for the evening to Skallywags. Have you been there before?”
“Yeah, when we’re not traveling around, we’re based in Seattle, so that’s our go-to bar.”
“What kind of bar is it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you go for the food? The dancing? The women?”
“It’s a dive bar, it’s got a pool table, sometimes we play. The boys liked to dance with women, sure.”
“Didn’t you?” she presses.
“I have a girlfriend. Hannah.” His brow bunches as if he’s not quite sure if what he’s saying is true anymore. One thing will test your relationship, and that, ladies and gentlemen, is a murder charge.
“How long have you been together?”
“Six years.” His voice wobbles. “I was going to ask her to marry me after I got my promotion.”
He starts to cry thick tears now. They’re streaming as he tries to cover his eyes. He sniffs over and over, his whole face is leaking. The devastation is real. That much is true.
“The detective showed you a picture of the girl in your last interview. Did you recognize her from the bar that night?”
“No, I don’t remember seeing her. I’ve never seen her before.” His tone sharpens.
“Back to what you do remember, you went into Skallywags. Had a few drinks, and then what?” She swerves the conversation, eager to win back his rapport.
He takes a deep breath, the scrunch in his brow telling me his frustration is starting to build.
“We were drinking a lot. Celebrating Jarred and trying to get girls to give him kisses for his birthday. Just being stupid.” He spits out the final word, like he’s grown since then, like he’s realizing how trivial all his problems were before, because now he’s facing the hardest thing he’s ever experienced.
“How late did you stay out?”
“I don’t remember.”
“And you don’t remember seeing anyone else?”
“A few of the older guys were out, but they don't socialize with us.” This is new information that the police weren’t aware of. Jesus, she’s good.
“What are their names?”
“Travis Marrs and Hunter Abrahams. But like I said, we saw them, but I don’t remember spending time with them. Not until I blacked out, anyway.”
I hear Detective Biceps writing down the names on a piece of paper behind me.
“Know these guys?” he asks.
“I haven’t heard of them,” I answer honestly.
“I find that hard to believe,” he snips.
I grit my teeth. “The base has six thousand people on it. Coming and going all the time from overseas and other bases. Some people are only here for a few days. And unless they come into my office, I won’t meet them, Detective. So write that in your fucking notepad.”
“She’s off-limits.” His voice lowers so Officer Sanchez can’t hear him, before turning his attention back to Katie.
“And why would I give a shit about whether or not you think she’s off-limits?”
This shouldn’t even be a conversation. Katie can’t stand me most of the time. But I’m not going to let this prick know that.
“She’s. Off. Limits,” he repeats.
“Until she tells me she’s off-limits, it’s on the table, Williams. So shut up and let me concentrate so I can do my job.”
“What exactly do you think you’re going to offer this investigation that Katie won’t? Nothing.” He scoffs, and what’s worse is he’s right. I might not be able to offer anything of value, but it’ll be a sure thing if he doesn’t shut the hell up for five minutes so I can think.
“Can we talk about your girlfriend?” Katie asks softly, and I pull my attention away from the detective.
“Why?”
“I want to know about your relationship with her.”
“No. You want to know if I’ve ever hurt her.”
She pauses for a second before she responds, and I watch the back of her head tilt as she considers him. “In a way. But not necessarily.”
She leaves it at that. Waiting him out to see if he bites.
It’s a good tactic. When we studied, we were taught that one could learn a lot from silence.
Most people will try to talk their way out of things, if only just to fill the discomfort of sitting with an authority figure.
It’s awkward as hell, but it seems like Katie is doing just fine.
Perhaps the detective has a point. I don’t have much to offer here.
“I met her on a dating app. She said she didn’t want to date a soldier because her dad was one, so I didn’t tell her I was in the army until our third date.”
Starting your relationship with a lie. Not a great start. I jot down the note on my notepad. I watch Katie write something, too.
“When I told her, she was upset. But I won her over. I told her I just knew she was special, and I had to try to get her to meet me. There was this connection, even just messaging with her and talking on the phone. I knew I had to meet her.”
I see the back of Katie’s head nod.
“She agreed to see me again, and I bought her flowers to apologize. I told her how grateful I was that she was giving me another chance. She’s so beautiful and kind.
She told me she really liked me, but she wouldn’t tolerate any more lies.
She said I had to be honest with her, or this wouldn’t work. ”
“And have you been?” Katie asks.
“Yes, I’ve never lied to her again. She’s the one for me.
I don’t want anyone else. I would never screw this up.
” He’s hyperventilating now. The girlfriend is a trigger for him.
“I promise you, I didn’t do this. You believe me, right?
You can tell the detective? I would never.
I would never do anything to hurt anyone else.
Never. Not a woman. I’d never screw up my life like that.
I love Hannah. I love her. I want to be with her forever. ”
“Connor, it’s okay. Take a deep breath.”