Detective Wade Jackson Mystery - 02 - Secrets to Die For by L. J. Sellers Read Free Book Online Page B

called Michael Quince, the detective who was working the two unsolved rape cases, but remembered it was after one in the morning. Their conference could wait until tomorrow.
     
    “How did it go at the Gormans’?” Evans suddenly stood at his desk. She’d taken off the knit cap and looked a little perkier than she had at the crime scene. “Anybody get hurt?” she asked, deadpan
     
    Now that Jackson knew Gorman had raped and assaulted women, he didn’t feel bad about zapping him with the Taser, but still, he tried to keep it professional. “Gorman bolted, so I Tasered him. Then Cindy attacked me. So I wouldn’t call it a successful encounter.”
     
    “But you got to use your new toy.” Evans grinned.
     
    Jackson let a little smile escape. “It’s quite efficient.”
     
    “I’d like to participate in the interrogations.”
     
    “Great. Start with Cindy. Try to establish the female bonding thing. If that doesn’t work, threaten her with maximum time for assaulting an officer.” Jackson stood and grabbed a fresh notebook. “Did the friend, Jamie, have anything interesting to contribute?”
     
    “No.” Evans scowled. “But she’s hiding something. I’ll go see her again tomorrow. Or today, actually. Unless we get a confession from Gorman.”
     
    Schak strode up and said, “The subpoenas are on their way.”
     
    Jackson stood. “Let’s go.”
     
    In the harsh light of the small interrogation room, Gorman’s skin looked gray, as though it hadn’t been getting enough oxygen for some time. A smoker, Jackson realized. Good. Nicotine withdrawals were more effective than anything else in getting suspects to give up information. I’ll give you my mother for a cigarette .
     
    Gorman’s lean hard body was hunched over the table, but he pulled up quickly when Jackson and Schak came in. It was hard to look proud with handcuffs on.
     
    “How are you feeling?” Jackson used his friendly-nurse voice.
     
    “Fuck you!”
     
    “Let’s get past the bullshit right away. You’re going to be in this hole until you tell us everything about Raina’s visit to your home last night.” The room had recently been updated and wired for sound, so Jackson had the recorder running. “You know the drill. Everything you say can and will be used against you. We are recording, by the way.” Jackson didn’t give Gorman time to react. “What time did Raina arrive at your home last night, Wednesday, February 13?”
     
    “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
     
    “We know she was at your property. She bought gas at the Crow Road turnoff. A judge is signing a search warrant for your home right now. Raina left a little piece of herself there and we’ll find it. A strand of hair, a drop of blood. If you tell us now, you have a chance to plea bargain.”
     
    Little beads of sweat formed on Bruce’s scalp where his hair receded. Jackson could smell the nicotine oozing out.
     
    “She didn’t come to our house. That’s all I have to say.” Gorman squinted. “Aren’t I supposed to have a lawyer?”
     
    Jackson gave him a surprised look. “Do you know a defense lawyer who will come down here tonight and represent you?”
     
    “What about a public defender?”
     
    “They only get involved if you’re charged with a crime and attend an arraignment. We haven’t charged you. We’re just talking here.” Jackson leaned back, nonchalant. “If you want a public defender, we’ll be happy to press rape and murder charges that will be on your record forever. What do you say?”
     
    Gorman stayed silent.
     
    “I’ll take that as a no . You know what’s unusual, Bruce?” Jackson leaned over the table. “You haven’t asked me what happened to Raina. That’s because you already know.”
     
    “I just don’t give a shit.” Gorman slumped to prove his point.
     
    “In 1993, you raped a young woman. Five years later, you assaulted another woman. Juries like to convict rapists. And other prisoners