Her Final Breath (The Tracy Crosswhite Series Book 2) by Robert Dugoni Read Free Book Online Page A

at the community college,” Tracy said. “He admitted taking her to the motel on Aurora last night, but he swears to God he didn’t kill her.”
    “They always swear to God, don’t they?” Kins said. He sat in a chair near the blinking colored lights of one of the recording devices.
    “Why’d he run?” Cerrabone asked.
    “Says he got scared and panicked,” Tracy said. “He’d seen a news report.”
    “Any DNA?” Cerrabone said.
    “None on file.”
    “So no priors,” Cerrabone said. In Washington State everyone convicted of a crime was required to provide a DNA sample.
    “Not even a parking ticket,” Kins said. “The guy teaches handicapped kids.”
    Cerrabone ran a hand over the stubble of his chin. “Any DNA on the rope?”
    “Melton says he’s making it a priority,” Tracy said, referring to Michael Melton at the Washington State Patrol Crime Lab.
    “What about Nicole Hansen? Does he have any known connection to her?”
    “He says he’s never heard of her,” Tracy said. “I’ve got Faz and Del running his photo over to the Dancing Bare to see if anyone picks him out of a montage.”
    “How long before we get the search warrants for his house and office?” Kins asked.
    “And the storage shed,” Tracy added.
    Cerrabone checked his cell phone. “Probably have them by the time you’re finished. Make sure he waives his right to counsel on the tape.”
    Kins stood. Tracy said, “I’ll take this alone.”
    “You sure?” They almost always interviewed a suspect with another detective, for safety.
    “He started talking the minute I put the cuffs on him and didn’t shut up the entire ride here. Let’s see if he’ll keep talking to me.”
     

     
    Tracy removed Gipson’s handcuffs, sat across the table from him, and confirmed that he understood his Miranda rights and agreed to waive them. “Let’s go over some things again, Walter. How did you know Angela Schreiber?”
    “She was taking a course in English at Seattle Community College. I teach there a couple nights a week.”
    “Okay. So what happened?”
    “She submitted an essay on being a dancer. It was really well written, detailed. After class I asked her about it, and she told me it was true and invited me to come see her.”
    “And you went to watch her dance?”
    “Not at first. Not for a while actually. She kept asking when I was going to go, so I decided to go see, you know, just one time. I only went a couple times.”
    “So how long before you started having sex?”
    Gipson sighed. “I don’t recall. She asked for a ride to the club one night after class. She said her car had broken down and she didn’t have the money to fix it.”
    “You had intercourse in your car?”
    “No.”
    “She gave you a blow job?”
    Gipson lowered his focus to the table, embarrassed. “Yeah.”
    “And you paid her for it.”
    He closed his eyes. “It wasn’t like that.”
    “Tell me what it was like.”
    He looked up. His eyes were watering. “She said she was having a hard time making ends meet. She’d come to Seattle for a job, but it didn’t work out and she hadn’t been able to find another one, and living here was more expensive than she thought, and then her car broke down. She said she started dancing to pay the bills.”
    It sounded like a sob story to separate Gipson from his money. “So, what, you were just helping her out?”
    “I know how it sounds now.”
    “How much would you give her?”
    “Fifty. Sometimes a hundred.”
    “It had nothing to do with the sex?”
    Gipson frowned. “I guess it did.”
    “And you went to the motel last night?” Tracy asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “What about your wife?”
    “She went to her sister’s to have dinner, then called and said she was going to spend the night in Tacoma.”
    “So you didn’t have to rush home.”
    “Right.”
    “Who chose the motel?”
    “She did.”
    “Did you ask her why you didn’t just go to her apartment?”
    “She said she had a roommate