Chapter Twenty-Three
Katie
Hannah Spears is twenty-five, blonde, soft-bodied.
You can tell she’s pretty despite the tiredness in her eyes and the puffiness of her cheeks.
A friend sits beside her, rubbing her back as she sniffs into a used tissue.
The red rims around her eyes suggest she sleeps as well as I do.
Well, as well as I used to before her boyfriend allegedly murdered someone and Jonesy started sleeping with me every night.
“I’m Dr. Murphy. I’m a forensic psychologist and consultant for the Seattle Police Department.
Although they contract me, my reports are completely independent, and I have no incentive, financial or otherwise, to put someone away.
I want you to know that I will do my utmost to give a fair and honest assessment of this case.
My colleague here is Dr. Jones. He works on the base with your boyfriend, although I don’t think they ever worked together. ”
I look to Jonesy for confirmation, despite knowing the answer. He nods and smiles softly at Hannah. “I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances, Miss Spears.”
She rocks in her seat a little, and I’m concerned she may need medical assistance if this has been going on for weeks now.
“Can you tell us about your relationship with Connor?” I ask.
She doesn’t respond until her friend whispers something in her ear that pulls her from the brink. She swallows, takes a sip of water, and starts to talk.
“We’ve been together for years. I thought he was it for me. But I didn’t know him at all.”
“I want to know what Connor was like when he was with you, Hannah,” I say softly, clasping my hands on top of the notepad I take with me into interviews.
She pauses for a moment, swallowing down the tears.
“He was always so nice and kind. He made me feel special. Even when he was overseas, he would have flowers sent to me every week, just so I would be reminded how much he loves me. Even now, he’s written me so many letters from prison.
I haven’t even gone to see him since that first week because I’m scared he won’t look like my Connor anymore. ”
“Has Connor ever . . .” I choose my words carefully. “Given you reason to think he would be capable of a crime like this?”
She doesn’t hesitate. “No. Never.” Her eyes shoot to mine, and a stern expression fills her eyes with stark determination.
“He’s never been verbally abusive? Tried to control you?”
“Never. He would never.” She sits up a little straighter now.
“Okay, thank you.” Jonesy jots down a note, and I do the same. “Typically, would you stay here or would you stay at his house when you were together?”
“Always here,” she answers, taking a sip of water.
At least she didn’t sleep over at the house of horrors. It makes sense that Connor wouldn’t take her there, considering there were three bodies buried in the yard.
Still, though, it’s a little strange that she never stayed there. She must have thought it was odd. “Did you know he had a house?”
“Of course . . . he just said it was a fixer-upper that needed a lot of work. And he wanted to renovate it before we lived there.”
“That makes sense. I’m renovating my own house at the moment, and it’s taken ages to even get one room fixed up.” I smile, glancing at Jonesy, and his eyes soften. I like that we’ve done everything together. I like that he’s helped me build a space that I want to be in.
Hannah pulls me back to the present. “Exactly, and given that he’s away a lot, I didn’t think it was odd. When he’s home, we just spend all our time together.”
I nod, and Jonesy shifts a little, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.
“I can imagine you wouldn’t want to waste any time together,” he says, running a hand over his mouth. He glances at me, a soft smile reaching his eyes. Is that how he feels? That we’ve wasted too much time apart?
“Exactly.” A few tears act as a catalyst until her uncontrollable sobs take over.
“I just don’t know how this could have happened.
I mean, literally—when would he have had the time for this?
He practically lives here. He hasn’t spent the night in that house in over a year, maybe more.
When would he have been able to kill three women and bury them in his yard before coming home to me? ”
“There hasn’t been a single night that you spent apart in the last year?” I frown.
“No. Except when he’s been away, but I would always go to the homecoming. It’s not like he could have even claimed he was back the next day or anything.”
I look at Jonesy, and he gives me a stoic expression back, but I can see the confusion in his eyes. Hannah could be lying, but her sad, confused state would tell me she’s trying to understand how he could have done this, not just to his victims, but to her.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I say.
I indicate to Jonesy to stay seated whilst calling Anthony outside.
He picks up after a few rings. “Katie, I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“Hey Anthony, me too. I’m sorry about how things went the other day.”
“No, I’m sorry. I hate to admit it, but Jones is right. I’ve been way off base here, and that’s on me. I’d love to come round and give you both a proper apology.”
Holy shit. Not what I was expecting.
“Tonight? I’ll order in.”
“Sounds good. What were you calling about? I’m guessing it wasn’t just this.”
“You’re a detective for a reason.” I laugh.
He chuckles, too. “Talk to me, Murphy. What do you need?”
“We’re at our interview with Hannah, Connor’s Maddox’s girlfriend.”
“Okay.”
“Well, how would you feel about going over the case notes with us tonight? Like what we did for Thomas Vale’s case.
We could talk everything through and try to understand the timeline.
I know you said the investigation is just evidence gathering at this point, but I have a feeling that something is missing. ”
I expect him to say no, especially given the last few times we’ve interacted. But he doesn’t. “Jones was right about that, too, Katie. I’m sorry I’ve made you doubt yourself. Two sets of eyes are better than one. Or in this case, three, with Jones.”
I let out a breath. “Thanks, Anthony. I’ll see you tonight. Oh, do you have the autopsy reports for the women in the backyard?”
“We should be getting them this afternoon. Why?”
“Bring them tonight. It’s part of the timeline issue.”
“Got it. See you later.”
I slip my phone back into my pocket before heading back inside.
Jonesy is leaning forward opposite the two women. He’s clearly consoling Hannah, but her friend is giving him googly eyes. Placing my hand on his shoulder, I watch as her mouth parts, her eyebrows hiking up her forehead.
“We have another appointment, Dr. Jones.” I squeeze, and he smirks up at me. “Thank you for your time, Hannah, miss.” I nod to both women, and they rise from their chairs, Hannah turning wide-eyed to her friend.
“We’ll be seeing Connor in the next few days,” I say softly. “Is there any message you’d like me to pass on?”
The woman bites her lip, fresh tears filling her eyes. She shakes her head. “No. But, could you let me know how he is?”
I nod, giving her hand a squeeze. I turn to the friend and give her a brief nod. She’s here supporting her friend, whose life has turned upside down, and I’m grinding my teeth over her giving heart eyes to Jonesy.
We head out of the house, ignoring the throng of media.
The snap of cameras is nothing compared to the questions yelled at us by journalists.
Jonesy places a protective arm around me, helping me into his car and closing the door before striding around to the driver’s side.
I’d relented this morning and allowed him a comfortable drive to our interviews rather than the toy car I’ve been driving.
Thank God I did; every time the media closes in on me, my hands shake uncontrollably.
Not like Jonesy, cool, calm, nothing seems to faze him.
And honestly, watching him do that thing where he puts his hand behind my headrest as he backs out of the driveway.
The veins on his forearms are prominent as he spins the steering wheel one-handed.
Honest to God porn. I’m biting my lip, clenching my thighs.
And he’s loving it. Because once we’re on the main road, he places his hand high on my thigh, gripping me hard.
“I love it when you claim me like that,” he says.
I know he’s talking about Hannah’s friend who was practically drooling over him, but I feign innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He has the audacity to laugh. “Yeah, princess. You do. But let’s pretend that you weren’t marking your territory like a goddamn dog pissing on a streetlight.”
“Did you really just compare me to a dog?” I spit.
“I do like you on your hands and knees begging. And I do give you a treat when you do a good job, so yeah. I guess you are my little pup, aren’t you?” His grin is wide, his teeth flashing.
“I will wreck this car, with both of us in it, if you ever call me that again.”
He laughs, his fingers squeezing my thigh. “But I just bought you a new leash. I thought we could try it.”
“Oh, we’ll try it. But you’ll be crawling for me before the night is up. I want you barking just to get a taste of me.”
“I’d lick up any treat you gave me, princess. Woof.” He snaps his teeth at me, the maniacal grin breaking out across his face tells me he’s serious.
“God, you’re insane.”
“What can I say? I’m unhinged for you, Katie. I’d do just about anything you asked of me if it turns you on.”
“You’d really crawl around?”
“Absolutely.” He shrugs as if I’d asked him to make me a coffee and not partake in a humiliation kink.
“The big, strong soldier would get on his knees and bark like a dog just to taste my pussy?” I whisper, leaning over the console, I palm his dick through his pants.
“Jesus . . . Katie, you’ve gotta stop. Not while I’m driving.”
“I’d tell you what a good boy you’ve been, and I’ll stroke your hair whilst you lick me?”