Chapter Twenty-Four
Jonesy
I guide Katie through the doors to the prison entrance the following day, one hand on her lower back.
I’m on high alert for any potential threat coming within an inch too close to her.
But the process is standard, and we make our way through security and hand over our phones and Katie’s purse.
She gets patted down by a female officer, and I get the male.
I recognize him from the last time we were interviewing Connor.
“Who looks after the personal items whilst we’re in there?” I ask as he pulls my keys out of my pocket and puts them in the tray.
“I do,” Smith says.
“And it was you last time we were here?”
“Possibly, I can’t remember.” His hands slide over my arms methodically.
He’s not a tall man. Coming up to my shoulder, I tower over him and lower my voice. “If anything ends up in Dr. Murphy’s purse, if even a stray hair ends up in her possession, I will end you. Do you understand?”
“Wh . . . what? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stutters, not meeting my eye.
“Good answer. Because you’re going to guard that bag with your life. And if anyone asks for it, if anyone asks you to put anything in it, you tell me exactly who it is. Understand?”
“You don’t scare me, man. I work in a prison. I see tough guys all the time.” He gives a shaky laugh.
“Well, none of them can find you on the outside, can they? They’re all stuck in here, chained up.
Whereas I can find out where you live. I can find out about your wife, your kids, your dog, and whoever else it is that you love.
I can end your career here, all with a phone call.
So don’t test the lengths I’ll go to keep Thomas Vale away from Dr. Murphy.
Now, I’m going to ask you again. Do you understand? ”
“Yes.” His chin trembles.
“Good.”
I move over to the gray waiting area, where Katie is sitting in an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair. Her eyebrows pinch together as she looks between Smith and me.
“All okay?”
“Yeah, of course. Just chatting about hockey. The Grizzlies are doing well.”
She rolls her eyes, holding her notepad and pen on her lap. I desperately want to hold her hand so I can run a reassuring thumb over her knuckles. But I can’t here. Not when we’re our professional selves. As soon as we’re out of this shit hole, I’m going to rectify that.
“I think you should take the lead on this one,” she says. “He’ll trust you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. One request, though.”
“Okay?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“Ask him where he learned sign language.”
“Sure . . . any reason why?”
“Just a hunch.” She shrugs, focusing back on her notepad.
I lean down, whispering low in her ear. “I wish I had access to that big, beautiful brain of yours. I’d find out all your secrets.”
“Not here,” she warns. “Not right now, Jonesy. I’m serious.” She clenches her thighs together. I love how quickly I can turn her on, leaving her in a mess.
“Why? Are your panties getting wet?”
She says nothing, but the telltale sign of pink flushing up her neck gives her away.
She looks straight ahead, ignoring me, and I get a thrill of satisfaction zipping down my spine.
I shouldn’t be pushing her, not when we’re about to do something so serious.
But Katie needs this. She’s been so tense and so highly strung for so long; she needs to remember to relax, to have fun, to feel desired in a primal way for who she really is, not just for being someone they think she is.
“Murphy, Jones. They’re ready for you.”
We’re ushered into the same dank gray interview room as before, and once we’re seated, Maddox is ushered in. His wrists are handcuffed in front of his bright orange jumpsuit. He’s thinner, his skin gray and lifeless. All signs of hope seem to have left him.
“Hi Connor, how are you?” Katie asks.
“Fine,” he mutters, rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs had dug into his skin.
“Do you remember us from last time?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
Okay, one-word answers. I might start with Katie's question to get the ball rolling.
“I wanted to ask you, where did you learn sign language?”
He glances at Katie, shuffling in his seat. He’s slouched, his body facing away from her and toward the door to my right. He doesn’t trust her, and I’m only getting half his face, so it doesn't look like he trusts me much either. But Katie was right in thinking I should take the lead on this one.
“Do you remember a guy named Billy Knox?” he asks.
I think for a moment, but the name is not jogging any memories.
“They call him Bronco,” he adds.
It hits me, and I smile. “I served overseas with Bronco. Good man.”
“He’s my cousin.”
No way. What a small world. I’m surprised he hasn’t reached out, but maybe he doesn’t know I’m working the case.
“I had no idea,” I say.
“Yeah, he’s the reason I wanted to join the military. One of the reasons, anyway. He told me about you. When you were overseas. He said that you were a good man, and you helped him when he had tough days.”
“As you know, I’m a psychologist. I was helping alongside pastoral care. But my job wasn’t religious.”
Connor nods. “He said you used to teach sign language in the evenings and that it was a great distraction for him and the boys. They got quite good, and sometimes they still talk to each other with their hands. They think it’s funny no one else can understand.”
It can be fun. I sign, before nudging a frowning Katie. It manages to crack a smile out of Connor, and finally, the ice is broken.
“My cousin taught me. He said I’d never know when it would come in handy.”
“What can you tell me that will help you?” I ask.
He’s silent for a moment but glances at the door.
“Nothing,” he says, but he moves his hands quickly.
Visitor. He signs.
“Okay. Has anyone been here to visit you?”
I’m going completely off script, but this is a chance to get some answers from Connor.
“Just my family.”
Old soldier. He signs again, and I make a note. Katie cranes her head so she can read my pad, her eyes widening. Connor’s lips flatten together.
I sign back to him. She's a friend. I trust her.
He nods, and I continue.
“Has the army reached out at all to support you? I’m not aware if they’ve provided a lawyer or if you have a public defender.”
“It’s a public defender. The army is ready to give me a dishonorable discharge.”
Danger. Liar.
Katie frowns at me, and I jot down the two words underneath Old soldier. This must be annoying the hell out of her.
“Okay, I understand. I’ll see who I can talk to about that. I’ll see if we can put that on hold until after the trial.”
“Don’t go out of your way. They already think I’ve done it. The evidence is too much.”
I change tack.
“How long have you owned the house on West Cromwell Street?”
“Three years.”
“You bought it young, that’s pretty impressive.”
“I wanted to get on the property market quickly so I could pay it off earlier.”
“But you live with your girlfriend, even though your registered address is the house.”
He shifts again, rubbing his mouth with his hand.
“Technically, I live there. I just spend a lot of time at Hannah’s.”
“More than a lot, she said you’d stayed there every night for over a year.”
“I guess that’s true if she says so.” He shifts uncomfortably, his eyes darting to the security camera.
“Because Hannah’s not a liar, is she? You told us, she’s a good person, and she loves you,” I press.
He hesitates. “Y . . . yes.”
“You’re lying about something, Connor. But for the life of me, I can’t work out what it is. Because I don’t think you committed the crimes you’re accused of. But I can’t help you unless you give me some information.”
He sweeps the back of his hand over his forehead before he does the same to his upper lip. He’s terrified.
“I don’t have anything to say, only that I didn’t do this.”
Protect Hannah. Please.
It’s my turn to shift now.
Did someone threaten Hannah?
Yes.
Who?
Old soldier.
Fuck. That has to be the colonel? He’s had a stick up his ass about this case since day one. And not a stick like Alfie the grump has a stick up his ass. This is different. He’s had a giant hard-on for Connor from the first day. He didn’t have any doubt that he was guilty. Why would that be?
Name? I sign.
He shakes his head. Only signing the letter C.
C for colonel.
I run my finger over my mustache, and Connor nods. The fucking bushy-browed prick was going to get seriously questioned by me. Especially since he’s threatened my home by keeping this man in jail.
“We’ll look into what you’ve said and see if it helps the case. Is there anything else?”
He shakes his head.
Father. Old soldier, boss soldier.
Connor’s broken sign language was messing with my head. Before I can ask another question, the buzzing sounds out, and the metal door clangs open, and Connor is taken away.
Katie turns to me, but I shake my head, jotting down the notes quickly before we’re escorted from the room.
“Not now,” I mouth, and she nods in understanding.
We make our way along the metal walkway and back into the waiting room. Once we’re back through security, we’re handed our things.
“Hey, real quick, check your purse for me.”
“Jonesy,” she pleads.
“Do it, princess, or I’ll do it for you.”
She sighs, looking through her bag, and wouldn’t you know, there’s another letter in there. You gotta be fucking kidding me. She opens it up with shaking hands, her eyes darting from left to right before she hands the scrap of paper to me.
I can’t wait to smell your perfume again. Only a few more days, beautiful.
Yours always, my perfect specimen.
“Motherfucker! SMITH, get out here! Right now.”
Smith shuffles into the waiting room, wringing his fingers.
“I had to pass it on. It’s not like I’m the one writing the notes. I just do as I’m told.” He’s trembling, his eyes flashing between me and the other guards.
“You do as you’re told? By a murderer? Where is your fucking decency? You’ve been terrorizing her for months.”
“It’s not me—”