Jamie Hill Triple Threat (75 page)

Nate stepped into the dark house and felt for a light switch. When the room lit up, it still wasn't bright. One dim bulb shone from a fixture that had room for four.

Mel followed him in, looking around. Filthy and rundown, the house was a far cry from the last two places they'd investigated. Both of those appeared normal.
Nothing about this place feels normal.

"What a sty," Marshall voiced her thoughts.

"Nasty," Stone agreed.

"I thought Masters and his cats were gross," Becker added. "I didn't know the meaning of the word."

What furniture there was lie broken and scattered around the room. Maggot-infested plates of unfinished food were piled high on a small table.

"Not much of a housekeeper," Nate mused. He bypassed the kitchen and went straight for the hall. The first bedroom was empty. The second room was a small bath.

They stopped in front of the last door. With Mel peering over his shoulder, Nate cautiously tossed it open. Sheila lay on her side on the bed, hands and feet bound behind her. Dressed in a white cheerleader's uniform, she had a thick rag shoved into her mouth.

"Shelia!" Mel rushed past Nate and removed the gag.

"Oh gawd, oh lordie gawd." The woman's words came tumbling out. She smiled up at Mel and Nate. "You two fas' becommin' my fav-o-rite people in da whole world."

"What about me?" Marshall stepped forward, grinning.

"Brady Marshall! Get oba here and untie me if'n ya wanna keep your spot at numba one."

Mel and Marshall worked together to release her, and help her stand. "Are you hurt, Sheila?" Mel did a cursory examination and didn't see anything besides the ligature marks.

"No, jes a liddle wobbly. Been tied up like dat for a long time."

Nate said, "We're going to send you to the hospital to get checked out. Not taking any chances."

Sheila looked around. "Where's ma clothes? Can't go wearin' dis."

"Here." Mel removed her windbreaker and wrapped it around Sheila. "We'll get you some clean clothes. The hospital should have some but if they don't, we'll bring you something."

"Thankin' ya." Sheila glanced around the room. "Thankin' ya all."

Mel cupped Shelia's face. "We're so happy you're okay. Go with Brady, now. He'll take you to the paramedics."

The woman nodded and allowed Marshall to lead her out.

Nate had wandered over to the walk-in closet and nudged the door open fully. He pulled the chain hanging there and the light bulb illuminated the chilling room. "Jesus freaking Christ," he mumbled.

Mel stepped in behind him. Words escaped her. "Um, yeah. What you said."

The walls were covered with photos of the dead women in various stages of their demise. Red and white school pennants were pinned up amongst them. Dozens of red pom poms littered the floor. A shelving unit held knives with multiple sized blades. All of them were stained with what appeared to be dried blood. "DNA Heaven," Nate murmured.

"Good," Mel whispered, barely able to breathe. She glanced down and spotted a plastic grocery sack on the floor. Colored fabric poked out of it. "What's that?"

Nate leaned over and lifted the bag gingerly. He removed a pink item and looked at Mel.

"Panties." She made a face.

He dropped the items back where they were and glanced at her again. "Were the victims wearing panties when they were discovered?"

"Yeah. Maybe not their own."

He nodded. "More DNA evidence. We're going to have so much on this guy Kansas will have to open up the lethal injection chamber again."

Stone said, "Not sure we've ever used it. We haven't executed a prisoner since 1965, and those were by hanging."

Nate chuckled grimly. "Texas has executed more prisoners than any other state since the 1980s. We have a comedian that says, 'If you kill someone in Texas, we kill you back'."

Mel shook her head. "I'm not sure how I feel about the death penalty, but standing in this room much longer is going to help me decide real fast." She pressed her way out between Stone and Becker.

Marshall stuck his head in the bedroom door. "Hey, I'm going to follow Sheila to the hospital. She's pretty shaken up. You don't need me here anymore."

"Thanks Brady." Mel watched him go.

"He's one of the good guys," Nate spoke from behind her.

She nodded.

He gazed from her to Stone and Becker. "You all are. Hell of a fine job you did here. I hope you all get commendations for this one."

Mel smiled. He was sweet to say it, but they probably wouldn't even get a pat on the back from anyone at the office. "All in a day's work for you?"

He shrugged. "Some days are better than others. This is a good day. So Stone, Becker, we need you to stay here until the CSIs show up. Can't take a chance on any evidence tampering, and God only knows what Burton Webb is doing right now. Mel and I need to get back to the station. I'd like to talk to Dickie before he lawyers up, if he hasn't already."

"We'll hang out here," Stone agreed. "We can catch a ride with one of the uniforms."

"Thanks." Nate gave one last glance around the room before heading out.

Stone elbowed Mel. "He calls you 'Mel'." He grinned.

She stared at him blankly. "That's my name."

"I know, but everyone else calls you 'Curtis'. He calls me 'Stone', her 'Becker', and Brady 'Marshall'. He calls you 'Mel'."

She rolled her eyes, trying to appear nonchalant. "Must be love."

"Might be." Stone waggled his brows.

"Shut up." She tried to scowl but knew it was a pathetic effort. "We gotta go." Mel hurried out, figuring that conversation was going nowhere good. She'd tried to blow it off, but Stone had a way of seeing right through her.

Won't matter after today
. The thought struck her like a ton of bricks. The case was solved. Nate would leave. Her stomach churned.

He was talking on his phone out by the SUV. He ended the call when she walked up.

She forced a smile. "Another girlfriend?"

Nate tucked his phone in his pocket. "Not letting you off the hook that easy. That was my chief. He says good work on the case and congratulations to the WPD."

"Did he say anything else?" She blinked, hoping the tears she felt welling wouldn't fall.

He shook his head. "Nope."

For the first time, Mel could tell Nate was lying. She let it drop, too emotional to open up the subject just then. "We'd better go. Burton Webb is hiring an attorney as we speak."

"If he hasn't already." Nate repeated an earlier comment. They climbed in the SUV and headed to the office.

* * * *

Nate followed Mel up to the homicide department. They'd stopped on the first floor and discovered Dick Webb hadn't arrived from the hospital yet. The officer on duty promised to call Mel when the suspect arrived.

Police surveillance of Burton Webb ended when Dick was taken into custody. Nate felt sure the father had already begun making arrangements for his son, but he hoped for one shot talking to the perp. If he could get Dick to admit to any of the murders, it'd be the final nail in his coffin.

When they walked into the bullpen in homicide, the room fell silent. One lone person's clapping turned into several, and soon the whole room full of people were applauding and walking over to congratulate Mel and him.

She seemed genuinely shocked at the outpouring, which amused Nate. He didn't think she realized yet the scope of what she'd accomplished. If he was a betting man, he'd wager a promotion was in her future.

Reeder pushed his way through the crowd which effectively sent everyone back to their desks. "Well done." He pumped Nate's hand up and down, then Mel's. "Stone says there's a shitload of evidence."

Nate smiled.
Stone didn't say that
. Such terminology was the brainchild of Reeder and Reeder alone. He nodded. "The evidence is all there. The place is a Petri dish. CSI should be able to collect a load of DNA samples."

"They did a Luminol test first thing. According to Stone, the whole damn room glowed."

There'd been blood everywhere
. Nate and Mel made disgusted faces at each other.

"Suddenly I want to go wash my hands," she said.

"Right there with you," Nate agreed.

"Good work you two. Willis, let me know before you take off. It's been an experience working with you. I told your chief you did a damn fine job." He looked at Mel. "Now the real fun begins for you. Processing evidence and paperwork."

"Can't wait. Excuse me." She turned around as Reeder walked off. "I was serious about washing my hands."

"Following you," Nate assured her. They walked past the war room, where an officer was already taking down the victim's pictures from the bulletin board.

"It's really over, isn't it?" Mel murmured.

"Yep. Thank God."

She stopped and faced him. "And you're really leaving, aren't you?"

Nate's heart lurched. "Mel…." He didn't know what to say.

"I promised myself I wouldn't do this here. I don't want a room full of people to see me cry. We'll talk later. I can't guarantee I won't cry then, though."

He smiled. "Nor would I expect you to. Before you go getting all maudlin, give me a chance to see if I can turn that frown upside down."

"You didn't really just say that." She pushed open the door to the ladies' room.

"Told you I'm no songwriter." He walked past and washed his hands in the men's room. Recalling the disturbing sights at Webb's house, he took an extra moment to wash them again. He met Mel in the bullpen.

"Webb's downstairs," she said, grabbing the folder with victim's pictures in it. "No lawyer yet."

"Let's go." They hurried down to the interrogation area and were met by the captain in charge.

"Captain Gray, this is SSA Nathan Willis of the FBI," Mel introduced.

The men shook hands. "Has he asked for an attorney?" Nate inquired.

"Nope. He's only had one request. I guess I should call it a demand." The captain looked at Mel. "Says he'll only talk to you."

"No way." Nate shook his head firmly. "I'm going in."

Mel turned to him. "I can do this. You trusted me before. Trust me again."

"It's not a matter of trust. Guys like this are psychotic. Reality means nothing to him. All he wants is to get inside your head. And I don't want him there."

She stood her ground. "You may not have a choice. If he'll only talk to me, then I should do it. We need to get him to admit to at least one of the murders, right? More would be better of course."

"Mel…." Nate frowned, his resistance already wavering. She had an extremely persuasive way about her. "I don't like this one bit."

"Objection duly noted." She removed her Glock and handed it to him. They watched Webb for a moment through the two-way mirror.

"Stay on this side of the table," Gray said.

"Yes, Captain." Mel flashed one more glance at Nate and left the room.

His heart rate increased tenfold when he saw her walk in with Webb. He tried to calm his breathing but it wasn't easy, and took a lot of effort. His ears perked up when Webb spoke.

"You came!" The man smiled at Mel.

"Yeah, I'm here Dick. I understand you wanted to talk to me."

"Call me Dickie. My mother always called me Dickie."

"And look what happened to her."

Nate drew a breath. "Not sure flippant is the approach we want to take with him," he murmured.

"She's a smart cookie," Gray answered. "Let's see what she has up her sleeve."

No emotion whatsoever registered on Webb's face. "You look like her. Pretty long blonde hair. My mom always wore it down. Will you take your hair down for me?"

"Don't do it." Nate gritted his teeth.

Mel inhaled then expelled the breath, shaking her head. "I don't think so Dick. I mean, what have you done for me? You killed four women, and poor Sheila—"

"I didn't hurt Sheila," he interrupted. "She's a hooker. I paid her for the night. Ask her if I hurt her. She'll tell you. We were playing a game."

"Those games didn't end well for the others, though, did they?" Mel removed pictures from her folder one at a time and laid them on the table. "What about Donna Leonard? She looked pretty rough when they found her."

His eyes registered interest for a second, then nothing. "I don't know her." His face was once again an emotionless mask.

She spread out the other photos. "Rhonda Jensen? Linda Mains? Sissy Warsaw?"

Webb's gaze flickered from the pictures back to her, and he simply stared.

"What was the significance of the cheerleader uniforms? Did you date a cheerleader in high school? Did the relationship not end well?"

"My mom was a cheerleader." He smiled. "I saw her yearbook pictures. Sometimes she wore her hair in pigtails. Do you ever wear pigtails?"