Chapter LI
Answers
Sofia crossed her legs underneath the table and waited, she could have set her watch by the other woman's reaction.
"This is stupid. I thought that super model was the murderer. This is really just stupid; shouldn't I have a lawyer or something?"
Sofia kept her face impassive, "That's your right, Miss Heine."
She had to get something out of this woman before an attorney could shut her up. She had come too far and worked too hard for some pencil-necked public-defender with delusions of grandeur to cock-block her now.
"Of course, I was hoping to keep all of this just between us girls."
Hiene smiled, "Girl talk: shoes, hair, clothes and all that, Detective Curtis? You don't look like the type."
Sofia smoothed down her ponytail and tried to hide her smirk. They were in an interrogation, not high school. It was true, she didn't look her best, but she was hardly sloppy. Her jeans, tee-shirt and tailored gray jacket looked far better then Hiene's retina-scalding orange jumpsuit.
"Oh I don't know about that. This is Las Vegas after all and some nights I do like to go out on the town." She pulled a picture out of her folder and put it face down. The white stood out starkly against the gray reflective surface of the table. "I absolutely love getting dressed up and going out. I have this gorgeous red dress that looks spectacular on me if I don't say so myself. There are black dress nights and tight pants nights but red dress night, they're the wildest. Don't you agree, Kera?"
Sofia flipped the photo over with a snap of her wrist, "I guess you do agree."
If she was startled, it didn't show. "It's a dress."
Sofia smirked, "You're very astute. It's not just any dress, though, it's your dress that we recovered from the room we found Adam's mutilated, bloody body in."
She had seen it laying on the floor by the bed in the garage apartment's bedroom turned horror movie scene. "Mine's longer and not covered with blood."
"You can't prove that's mine."
Sofia chuckled, "Even if your DNA wasn't all over it, and trust me it is, I can prove it's yours." She opened the folder and pulled out a single sheet of paper. "The Rebel Gazette covered UNLV's Gay-Strait Alliance Red Walk for AIDS where you presented a plaque to someone." She laid out the picture, "And you're wearing a red dress, this-"She tapped her finger on the evidence photo, "red dress."
"I-"
Sofia had the girl on the ropes, now it was time for the interrogation to really begin.
"Nothing to say for yourself, Kera?"
The dark haired woman blinked, "But I helped you! When you came and asked, I answered everything! Why would I help you if I did it?"
Sofia smiled, "I don't know, you tell me."
"I didn't, I wouldn't!" Her eyes darted all around the room, looking for some kind of escape. She was looking everywhere but at her interogator. That was a mistake.
Sofia put her hand into her shallow jacket pocket and brought out the clear plastic evidence bag she had put in there before she'd stepped into the room. It was a heavier then any one necklace should have been. She tossed it onto the table almost carelessly. The gold of the chain and the various rings glinted in the fluorescent light. "They took this off of your neck when they booked you. You were wearing this necklace when I chased after you."
Because Sofia knew that it had already been photographed, swabbed and dusted for prints, she broke the seal and took the necklace out.
"This-"She held one ring between her thumb and forefinger "is Dedrick Marsh's Wrestling Championship ring. He was one of the best wrestlers Nevada has ever seen. His high school coach swore that he'd win a gold medal one day." She twisted her fingers around and held up a simple wedding band, "And this is Preston Abernathy's wedding band. He and his wife Kim picked these out together on a trip to Atlanta. He has a son named Jonah; he's only two and a half years old." Sofia's hands moved to the last ring, "This one was Adam's. It came to him from his grandfather. His family gave it to him at his barmitzpha, that was only a few years ago."
"I don't now what any of this has to do with me. I collect rings from all over the place. I'm a little clepto like that" The young woman laced her fingers together, unlaced them, tapped them and then folded them together again. She was nervous. "I can tell you where I bought these from if you like. There's this guy who hocks stuff on the corner by Hooper Hall."
"Do you collect other things, Kera? Does your kleptomania spill over into other things? Are you a big fan of coins, shot glasses, action figures or maybe-"
Sofia pulled another picture out of the folder, and smirked a little. "Maybe you like candle holders." She put the photo of the ugly candle holder taken from the hotel room where Preston Abernathy had been murdered. The photograph had been taken while Nick had been using an ALS unit so the blood stains were glowing bright and unmistakable.
"We found this in your apartment, Miss Heine. You might have cleaned the surface, but the blood is still there under the surface, just waiting to be found."
Sofia laid that down beside the other pictures so Kera could see the mountain of evidence stacking up against her.
"I've been on this case from the beginning, when we found your friend Erica dead at a construction site. You were closer to Erica then you let on. We looked at her phone records. She called you more then her own mother."
Sofia watched Kera's face. The girl looked down at her hands. "Erica was a good person, she didn't deserve to be raped."
"And murdered," Sofia added softly. She didn't hesitate, she pulled out the morgue photo of Erica Green. Sofia had been there and didn't need to see the image to know what it showed. The young woman had been still, pale and though the sheet had been pulled up to her collar bones it was obvious that she had been autopsied. The black stitches that had closed the y-incsion stood out starkly against waxy flesh. It was somewhat disturbing and Sofia knew it.
"Stewart Finnegan strangled her because he was trying to get away. He died of massive trauma and blood loss."
"I don't see what this has to do with me. "
Sofia took the last photo out of her folder and laid it right in front of Kera's restrained hands. "I think you do, Kera, seeing as it's your M.O." The picture was a standard frame of a bright pink vibrator complete with standard ruler and a case number. The outer shell of the device was different, but it was exactly the same sort of weapon. The fact that there was more then one device in the world was a very creepy thought.
"The first time I saw one of these, Erica's I mean, I didn't think much of it. It's a little vanilla, if you ask me. The inside of it, though, is the important part. It's the sort of torture that would give the Marquis de Sade pause."
Sofia shook her head, "You made these together, you and Erica and decided to what, go looking for rapists?" It was the sort of thing that Hollywood would concoct. College students with vigilante complexes. Only in Hollywood they might have gotten away with it. "And after she died, you knew exactly what to do. The paper had been running articles and editorials about Dedrick Marsh for months all you had to do was find, drug and seduce him then your little friend would do the rest."
She had backed a serial killer into a corner, and now the other woman's fight or flight instincts were taking over. All Sofia had to do was watch and see which reaction would win out.
"At least I'm standing up and doing something."
"Yeah, you're killing innocent men."
"They weren't innocent!"
The exchange was emotionally charged and fast. She could feel her pulse racing. This whole thing was getting to her, but she wouldn't back down now. Sofia leaned forward, "What could they have possibly done to you?"
"They touched me!"
"Really?"
Of course they had, she had invited them to. Sofia knew this was going to happen. Heine was victimizing herself. She wasn't impressed or convinced.
"Yes!"
She wasn't convinced, but as God as her witness, she would swear that Heine was. The girl was either a stunning actress or severely brainwashed. Sofia would prefer the former and seriously doubted the later, no matter what Catherine said.
"And Mother says, Mother always says that men are-"
Kera had a manic gleam in her eye and Sofia knew it was time for the final push.
"Mother? That can't be your mom, you know the one you never call, because I talked to her and she's in complete and utter denial."
"My mom is a fool."
"Let me guess she told you that girls who go to bars wearing dresses like that are asking for it."
"Is that what you think, Detective Curtis?"
The other woman's voice was little more then a hiss, and the uniforms edged closer.
"What I think doesn't matter. It's all going to be up to a jury of your peers now and trust me, they're not going to fall for the insanity plea, Kera. Insane people don't drug their victims and clean up after themselves." The validity of that statement was questionable, but Sofia didn't let that show on her face.
"SHE IS REAL! I am NOT CRAZY!"
"Really because someone who shoves razors up her vay-jay-jay doesn't really come across as the picture of mental health. I've dealt with some crazies, and you're definitely a couple of tacos short of a combination plate, Lady."
Most people wouldn't want to antagonize a murderer and Sofia knew the dangers better then the Tom, Dick and Harrys on the street. She was hedging her bets on a few simple assumptions. Assumption number one was that Kera had yet to hurt a female, outside of the unfortunate officer who'd done the cavity search. Not that she was especially worried as the girl was chained to the table, but still. Assumption number two was that Kera Hiene was, at her core, a self centered narcissist. She might be easily lead, but she was still a narcissist. Narcissists always had to be right, and would go to any length to make others believe that too. If there was some kind of puppet master cult leader, and she still wasn't positive there was, the girl would out her. She would give a name just to prove herself right.
"I am not crazy, Detective Curtis, I've met her, and so have you. You and your friend Sara Sidle."
She had known that this was possible, Catherine had been talking about it almost nonstop. It could be a red herring, but Sofia doubted that would stop anyone. The Marshall and Prosecutor wouldn't look kindly on their charge now. She was about to pull Alexandra Dupree into the conversation.
"I saw you at the library."
Well of course she had. That was how they had ended up here, after all, but Dupree had an iron-clad alabi for that morning.
"And then you showed up at school."
Sofia blinked and suddenly realized that the woman wasn't talking about their romp through the university library at all. The timeline was off, and the only other library she'd been to in years was-
"You were at the SNNOW meeting."
The raven haired murderess rolled her eyes, "Duh. I watched you and Sa-ra-"
She said Sara's name, in a sing-song way that reminded Sofia of another psycho. It sounded far too much like Natalie Davis, and that made her sick to her stomach.
"-talking to everyone, including Mother."
Sofia quickly ran through the names and faces from that Sunday. Only one person had made the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention.
"Professor Blake is a genius. She started T.A.N. to teach us all the things our own moms were too cowardly to."
Sofia's only physical reaction was to blink again, on the inside she felt sick because she knew exactly who was watching and could only guess what Sara was feeling.
"I'm waiting Miss Dupree."
The supermodel looked up, "This is serious, isn't it? I mean this absolutely serious."
Jim Brass folded his hands on top of the table, "Yes, I'd say this is very serious."
If she had taken notice of his sarcastic words, she didn't bother to react. He might have said something else, but decided to wait it out because she looked about a million miles away and on the verge of saying something.
"Nobody takes me seriously. I'm just the airhead model. I look pretty therefore I must be stupid. Not that I protested that too much. So when I was approached about becoming TAN's spokeswoman I was thrilled. Too thrilled maybe. It looked good, sounded even better, hell I fell for it hook line and fucking sinker. It was a cause I could really sink my teeth into. Some girls do PETA and some girls do Unicef. I was going to be the face of rape prevention. I wanted to help people, women. I'm not a cop or a CSI or a counselor but I could help this way. I wanted to help and needed a distraction. I guess, in retrospect, that bitch just wanted a pretty face to sell her group and a fucking idiot to take the fall."
Jim raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch, "Aint it the truth? Now about this evil horrible witch who lead you astray, what's her name?"
She only shrugged. "I trusted her, implicitly. I'd met her years before on vacation, with Sara. She actually introduced us so it never occurred to me that-"The blonde shook her head and floated off into some untold space.
He cleared his throat to draw her attention back, "Her name, Miss Dupree."
She sighed the sort of sigh that generally only came from recent divorcees and resigned victims and Dupree was neither. "I still can't believe it. I thought- God. Fuck her. Fucking fuck her."
Jim actually smiled a little, watched and waited.
"Don't Universities fucking check these people out? I mean Jesus H Christ, she's a professor. A fucking Harvard professor."
She threw up her hands.
"Fuck it and fuck her. Blake, Victoria Blake, she's on the tour. I helped fucking pay her way around the country. Hell. She is-was Sara's fucking hero. How was I supposed to know? How was any of us supposed to know that-"
If either Sofia Curtis or Alexandra Dupree looked towards the mirrored glass they would have only seen their own reflections. That didn't stop either of them from doing so. The thing, or rather person, they were looking for didn't notice, though. Sara Sidle had barreled out of the room at full speed with one hand clasped over her mouth.
When Alex and Kera started writing out their statements, Sara burst through a door that she knew lead to the bathrooms. While Sofia and Jim were watching their respective charges, Sara emptied her stomach contents into the first porcelain vessel her one outreached hand touched.
It was not pretty, nor graceful, throwing up was one of the vilest, most disgusting things a human could do and still live. If one took in the slightly abused state of Sara's stomach and esophagus, it was also one of the most painful things that she had dealt with in quite a while. Later, when her head was clearing, she would equate it to chucking up shards of glass that had been dipped in acid and set on fire.
When it stopped, she leaned against the wall, barely able to stand. It only took a second or so for the images to start flickering to life in her mind's eye.
That triggered a second wave of muscle spasms and heaving. The bile was bitter and acidic and she kept gagging until all she had left were dry heaves. Her eyes had watered up to the point where she was all but blind and her bones had chipped away like fragile wax.
"Jesus, Sidle, are you okay?"
She swiped her highly expensive sleeve over her stinging eyes and running nose and got a look at who was talking to her.
Of all the bathrooms at the LVPD, she had run into this one, which happened to have the last person in all of Vegas she had wanted to see. She didn't know which was more humiliating: The fact that she had thrown up in and all over a urinal or the fact that Conrad Ecklie had watched her do so.
"I've been better." Her voice was gravelly low and she sounded like she had been smoking for all of her thirty-some years instead of just today.
She would have laughed at the absurdity of it all, but the intense burning in her chest and the soreness in her sides made it too painful.
This entire nightmare was too painful and yet, just as she always did, she had to pull herself up and keep going.
"I better call maintenance." She walked, staggered a bit, to the door.
Sara let the swinging door slam behind her without looking back.
Had she looked back, she would have seen a strange sight.
Conrad Ecklie was standing there, stock still, looking down at the urinal she had vomited into. As a crime scene investigator, even one who had spent years in administration, he had seen countless puddles of puke. They were never particularly pretty and he did not enjoy being present for the act. Instead of walking away, or even waiting for maitnence, he stood there and looked.
Some, including Sidle, would accuse him of being self-serving. Sidle, especially, would say that he was less then observant. No one would say that now because Conrad Ecklie was looking down at a puddle of Sara Sidle's blood-speckled vomit with a look of deep concern on his face.
Author's Note: If there are any mistakes in this chapter it's because my beta has dissapeared on me. I've done my best to correct the worst of it, but I'm not perfect. I know, I'm shocked too. Happy Holidays to everyone and here's hoping someone puts some reviews in my inbox for Christmas!