The Killing Ground: A Foxx Files Thriller (14 page)

“When it finally took?”

His gaze leveled on Rebecca. “I…well…we had to use artificial insemination.”

Rebecca’s hand stilled. She felt a chill run down her spine and she willed herself not to let him know. This was the piece they were looking for. In spite of the DNA match, she needed motive and this was a pretty good start. “Why did your wife have trouble getting pregnant?”

Richard ran a hand through his bedraggled hair. “It was my fault.” He gestured towards his crotch. “They don’t work so well. That’s why when Lizzie finally got pregnant, we were beside ourselves. It took three years and a lot of failed attempts. We had all but given up hope when the last one finally took.”

“May I ask what agency you used?”

“Helping Hands…on Lake. Just past the river.”

Jordan felt a brief flash of recognition, but she couldn’t place it. Instead, she filed the information in the recesses of her mind for processing later.

“And how was that process? Was it stressful?”

“No, not at all.” His mouth smiled slightly. “They made it incredibly easy. I guess that’s what money gets you.”

“How do you mean?”

“They charge almost double what other agencies do, but it was worth it.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. Double what other agencies charged would put the total cost for each attempt to inseminate somewhere around twenty grand. Putting out that kind of money could make someone resentful, maybe even violent, especially if it wasn’t something he wanted to do. “Forgive me for being a little dense, but what made Helping Hands that much better?”

“Everything, I think. The director handles each case personally, and they offer in house counseling. It’s all extremely professional and very discreet.”

“Did you and Mrs. Hudson take advantage of the counseling service?”

Jordan stifled a laugh. She was thorough. Stalling for time, but definitely thorough. She saw Richard visibly relax and knew it was Rebecca’s demeanor that had facilitated that.

“Yes. I did, anyway.”

“Can I ask you the nature of your conversations?

“Sure, I have nothing to hide.” Richard’s hands were intertwined lazily. “I was married before…”

Rebecca’s pen slowed slightly. She couldn’t believe it. He was giving them everything they needed.

“We had trouble getting pregnant. We used Helping Hands as well. I was somewhat daunted by repeating the whole process again, and I wanted to talk to someone about it. Anyone on the outside can’t understand how painful it can be. Not being able to get your wife pregnant and having to rely on help for that. Add to that, the failed tries. It can be very depressing.”

“How did that make you feel? Not being able to impregnate your wife?” Rebecca sounded every bit the concerned, caring person she knew she needed to be to elicit the responses she needed to make a conviction stick.

“Depressed. Emasculated. You name it. No man wants to think he can’t fulfill his duties as a husband.”

Jordan felt the corners of her mouth crook up. Rebecca was good. Richard Hudson was using all the keywords Julien had said the UNSUB exhibited.

“How did you deal with those feelings?”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Besides talking to the director?”

“Yes.” Rebecca met his gaze, and her face softened. “I would imagine that would make you pretty angry. How did you deal with those feelings of rage?”

“Not well. I went through periods of depression. I withdrew from Lizzie, buried myself in my work.”

“How was your relationship with Mrs. Hudson? Had your depression affected that?”

“Very much so. I had a hard time touching her. I was no longer open with her. Even after she got pregnant, I was still angry.”

“Angry enough to lash out at her?”

A small vein on the side of his head started to pulse. “No! No way! I would never touch my wife.”

“Calm down, Mr. Hudson. I’m just trying to get a picture of what things were like. If perhaps Mrs. Hudson was looking for comfort outside the home.”

He shook his head. “No, not Lizzie. She loved me.”

“But you didn’t love her?”

“That’s not what I meant. Don’t put words in my mouth.” The anger flashed in his eyes as realization dawn on him. “Is that what this is about? You think I killed my wife? I didn’t kill Lizzie.”

Rebecca opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut when her beeper buzzed. She checked the display. “If you’ll excuse me a moment.”

When she stepped outside the interrogation room, her eyes flicked to her Chief.

He waived a single sheet of paper in the air. “Wrap it up.”

Rebecca took a deep breath and joined Richard Hudson again. She didn’t need to see the paper to know it was her warrant. Now, she wanted a confession. “I’m sorry about that.”

One glance told her he had calmed down. She half expected him to bolt any minute. “Mr. Hudson, let’s talk about the night your wife was killed. You were at a hotel near O’Hare. Did you leave the hotel for any reason?”

“No.” His started to wring his hands together again. “I got there about eight, ordered room service around 9:30 then watched TV and went to sleep around eleven.”

Rebecca cocked an eyebrow. Eight p.m. gave him plenty of time to commit the murder.

“Did you talk to Mrs. Hudson that evening?”

“A couple of times. Lizzie was eight months pregnant. I wanted to make sure she was doing alright. I spoke to her right before I checked in. She was getting ready to go out.”

Rebecca looked confused. “Where was she going so late?”

“She was meeting a friend for dinner.”

“That’s pretty late for dinner.”

“Maggie, that’s her friend, works retail. Her hours were pretty hectic.”

“Do you know where they were meeting?” Rebecca was scrawling notes on a legal pad. She hoped she could make out her chicken scratch tomorrow.

“Yes. Catch Thirty—Five on Wacker.”

That certainly put her close to the murder site. She mentally calculated the time it would take to get from O’Hare, kill Mrs. Hudson and drive back in time to order room service as an alibi. A little over an hour and a half. It would be tight, but doable. “When was the last time you saw your wife?”

“That morning. I left the house at six—thirty and didn’t go back after work. I had my bag with me.”

She fished through the folder once more and pulled out pictures of Elizabeth Hudson’s crime scene photos. She slid them in front of him. He blanched immediately and looked away. “Why? Why are you showing me these?”

“This is how we found your wife’s body, Mr. Hudson. As you can see, the murder was quite brutal. Someone very angry did this to her.”

He looked down and bit his lip. He was visibly fighting back tears. “Please, please catch whoever did this.”

“Tell me about your ex—wife, Sarah.”

More color drained from his face. “What does she have to do with this?”

“I think you know. She filed a restraining order against you. What was that all about?”

He swallowed loudly. “I have…had some issues managing my emotions. I yelled at her a couple of times, but nothing more than that.”

“She had you arrested for battery.”

“That was a misunderstanding. It was cleared up.”

“Then she filed for divorce and mysteriously ended up dead. Coincidentally, the exact same way Elizabeth died. That makes you either really unlucky, or…”

Richard knew immediately what she was hinting at by her pause. “So, now I’m a person of interest.”

“No, Mr. Hudson, you’re not interesting, you’re just a suspect.” Rebecca answered sarcastically.

“I didn’t kill anyone.” His hands balled into tight fists. “I know my rights, Detective. Unless you have something besides speculation to book me on, I’m leaving.”

Rebecca turned to the glass and nodded. Within seconds, two men came into the room and pulled Richard Hudson from the chair. They wrenched his arms behind him and cuffed him roughly. She met his furious gaze. “Richard Hudson, you are under arrest for the murder of Elizabeth Hudson. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…” 

“I want my lawyer.”

One of the detectives eyed Rebecca. She shook her head. “Not yet. I want to show you what you took."

She pulled out photos from all the previous victims and threw them haphazardly in front of him. “Take a good, long look, Mr. Hudson. These are your victims. The women you murdered.”

Richard Hudson shoved back from the table, visibly shaking. “I told you I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Sit down, Mr. Hudson.” Rebecca’s voice was calm, but firm. “Anger is a very, very compelling motive for murder.”

He stopped shouting, realizing that her words were somewhat foreboding. He took several deep breaths, calming himself. Settling back into the chair, he lifted his chin defiantly. “I’m not guilty of anything. You have nothing on me.”

She pulled out an evidence bag this time. “Someone interrupted you halfway through one of your attacks, and you left this behind.”

He looked closely at the bag containing the condom found inside Julie Keppler. “That’s not mine.”

“Funny thing about DNA, isn’t it, Mr. Hudson? It led us right to you. It also tied you to two unsolved rape cases.”

His face registered horrified shock. “I’ve never raped or killed anyone. Especially not my wife. Now why don’t you take the cuffs off me and figure out who really did this.”

“You did this.” Rebecca leaned back to meet his eyes. “This is what I figure happened. Guy like you gets married, figures he’ll have a nice little family in the suburbs. A couple of kids, a dog, barbecues in the back yard. Only, you couldn’t do that. Your wives wanted kids, and you couldn’t get them pregnant. So, they decide to use sperm donors. That gets pretty costly for you, and it’s not even your kid. That has to make you pretty mad. Mad enough to kill. But you can’t just kill your wife because that’s too obvious. So, you kill seven other people to cover the murder.”

Richard Hudson shook his head from side—to—side, refusing to believe her, refusing to admit to her words.

“You almost got away with it too. It was a brilliant idea. But you forgot one thing. Even the smartest criminals are stupid, and they make mistakes. You made yours and now you’re going to pay for every single life you took,
especially
your wives."

She glared at him with thinly veiled disgust. “Get him out of my sight.”

Chapter 15

“Yeah, we got him. He’s in custody now. Tell Julie it’s over.” Jordan hung up the phone after a brief and tearful conversation with Assistant Director Mitchell. She walked back into the bullpen and watched Rebecca typing in the last of the notes on The Cradle Killer case. The lines from stress had started to disappear, and Jordan had to admit that she was even more beautiful now than she was when they met. She decided to take a chance. That was what her life was about anyway, wasn’t it? Chances. Isn’t that what everyone’s life came down to? Everyone had hopes and dreams, and they took chances to get them. Sometimes you failed, but more times than not, when the chances paid off, and you held your dreams in your hand, then you knew what happiness felt like. At this particular moment, Jordan wanted to jump at the chance, even a small one, that she could find happiness.

“Will you have dinner with me?” Jordan’s voice caught, and she coughed to cover it. She had never had trouble asking a woman out, but Rebecca made her nervous, or the possibility of being rejected by Rebecca made her nervous.

Rebecca glanced up from her computer. “We can celebrate another time. I’m exhausted. I just want to take a hot bath and go to bed for the next two days.”

“I’m good with both.” Jordan waggled her eyebrows.

“Uh—uh, I’m not interested, Agent Gray.” Rebecca’s tone was firm, but the look of longing in her eyes gave her true feelings away.

“Agent?” Jordan stepped closer and ran a finger along her jaw. “You know I prefer Jordan.”

Rebecca’s eyes widened slightly, and Jordan saw the vein in her neck pulsing delicately. “Please don’t. I prefer to keep our relationship professional.” She pushed Jordan’s hand away and stood up, hitting the enter key. “As a matter of fact, we are done here. The CDD appreciates all your help, Agent Gray, but we won’t need the FBI anymore. We’re all done here.”

Jordan heard the words, but her eyes saw something behind them, and she acted without thinking. Closing the gap between them, she cupped Rebecca’s neck and pulled her mouth towards hers with deadly accuracy. She heard the faintest whisper of protest before Rebecca’s lips softened against hers, and her tongue slipped inside the inviting warmth that she had craved for so long.

Rebecca’s heart hammered against her chest. Whatever dreams she had dreamed about Jordan paled in comparison to the real thing. Her lips were soft, and she tasted like innocence and promise. Rebecca poured herself into their kiss and when Jordan pulled away, after what seemed like an eternity, her breath came in ragged gasps.

Jordan caressed Rebecca’s swollen lips with her thumb and stared into her soul, losing herself in the emerald-green depths. Her ragged breaths matched Rebecca's, and she struggled to pull herself away. Her sanity finally broke through, and she smiled sadly. “Now, we are done.”

Rebecca watched her walk away, sucking in deep breaths and praying that her heart wouldn’t pound out of her chest. Her fingers touched her lips. No one had kissed her like that in…well in ever, and she struggled to put the emotions she was feeling into a safe place where she could come back and sort through them. What she was surprised to discover was she didn’t want to think right now. What she wanted was to feel and forget what it was like to think.

Ignoring the warning signals her brain was sending, she ran out of the station, looking for Jordan. She caught up to her as she was getting into her car. From somewhere deep inside, her hunger took over, and she grabbed Jordan’s arm and pinned her against the car.

Had she given herself a moment to think, Rebecca would have realized the insanity of her actions, but a need to touch Jordan pulsed through her body. She reached up and pulled Jordan’s mouth to hers and ravaged her with her tongue.