The Assailant by James Patrick Hunt Read Free Book Online

“We’ll try to make it quick.” He looked over at Klosterman. Clothes were taken out of the suitcase and set on the table. Klosterman shrugged.
    Hastings said, “The girl was strangled to death, Mr. Harris. And there’s no evidence that she was robbed. If you’re innocent of this crime, the evidence will show it. We’d like to examine some of the things in your suitcase.”
    â€œTo prove I did it?”
    â€œWell, more to prove that you didn’t. The truth is, sir, we want to clear you as a suspect if you’re not the killer.”
    â€œEliminate me from the process?”
    â€œIt would help us out,” Hastings said. He looked to Klosterman again and knew that they were both wondering the same thing: whether there were traces of the girl’s skin on the man’s ties or belts or anything else that could’ve been used to choke the life out of her.
    Hastings said, “We’d like to do that with a certain amount of discretion, you understand.”
    Geoffrey Harris smiled at them for the first time. He knew a couched threat when he heard one. “I’m all for that, Lieutenant.”

EIGHT
    Geoffrey Harris voluntarily came to the downtown police headquarters and submitted to a polygraph examination. The test was conducted by Burl Davidson, a sergeant whom Klosterman had managed to reach by cell phone. Burl Davidson was a year away from retirement and already had set up a convenience store in St. Charles. He was a slight-looking man with glasses, and he could pass for a schoolteacher. He was an expert examiner.
    Hastings and Klosterman watched Davidson do his work in another room on a television monitor. Burl videotaped all his examinations unless instructed to do otherwise. Harris was informed of this.
    It took about forty-five minutes, and when it was done, Davidson removed the clips and told Harris that it was all over and he would be back in a moment.
    Hastings and Klosterman watched Burl Davidson leave the black-and-white screen and a couple of seconds later heard him knock on the door.
    â€œYeah,” Klosterman said, and Davidson walked in and sat in a chair across from them.
    â€œWell, the results are conclusive,” Davidson said. “He’s telling the truth.”
    Hastings said, “If he’s a sociopath, he could fool the machine.” He was thinking of the Green River serial killer in Seattle. He too had passed a polygraph. The police released him as a suspect and he went on to murder more prostitutes. Of course, the examination had been flawed in some respects.
    Davidson said, “It’s possible but not likely. In fact, it’s very unlikely. He exhibits no traits of your typical sociopath. Do you suspect him?”
    â€œNo,” Hastings said. He hadn’t, really, even before the examination. But he wanted to be thorough. He turned to Klosterman and said, “What do you think?”
    â€œI think he’s clean too.”
    â€œWhat did you think
before
the exam?”
    â€œI thought he was clean,” Klosterman said. “The hotel clerk says he didn’t leave the hotel that evening. Their security cameras would have caught him. M.E. says the time of death was between seven and eight that evening. He didn’t have transportation. If he killed her in his hotel room, he would have had to carry her almost a mile to dump her by the river. There’s no way he could have transported her there. And even if he had a car hidden in the parking garage, at his age and in his condition . . . it’s not possible. And his luggage has provided us no physical evidence that he strangled her. He’s just a lonely old man. Her last client.”
    â€œOr second to last,” Hastings said.
    Davidson said, “I don’t think he’s a sociopath.” He wanted them to confirm his opinion.
    â€œHe’s not,” Hastings said. “Thanks for coming down, Burl.”
    â€œAnytime,