Chapter Thirty-Three
Lexi had promised to bring the clothes in for analysis within the next couple of hours. The forensics office was already preparing for their arrival. Considering the timely nature of the circumstances, there was no doubt in Nolan's mind that this evidence would be rushed during processing.
After she hung up, Nolan slid his phone back into the pocket of his blazer and looked at Delaney once more. She was in an interrogation room, and from this angle, she looked so much like her niece. She was nervous, tapping against the hard wood of the table with trepidation.
He was alone in the hallway. Kaytee was talking with Price upstairs, and the rest of the unit was off doing various tasks. He was left to inspect the woman who sat a few feet away, awaiting a thorough questioning.
For a woman who had been on the run for several days, Delaney was put-together. She must have showered recently, and despite the clear toll stress and exhaustion had taken, she was composed. Calm. She bore the signs of giving up. Living a life glancing over one's shoulder couldn't be healthy. It was only a matter of time before she stopped hiding.
Nolan wasn't sure what he thought the killer would look like. They had a profile to track their suspect, and a few ideas pointed to who they would be searching for, but nothing in a case file could amount to a real, live human being.
The evidence was there. There was enough to convict her if this went to trial, but Nolan still felt restless. There was much to do before they reached that point, and he couldn't calm down until this investigation became nothing more than a report stuffed in Price's filing cabinet.
Kaytee materialized next to him, her hands raised as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. "What did we miss?"
"Nothing," he said. "She hasn't said a word or tried to engage. She seems like she's out of it."
Price nodded. "Sounds about right. I'm gonna see what I can get out of her before she demands a lawyer."
"Do you think we can get a confession?" Kaytee asked.
"We'll see," Price said. "Here's hoping."
With a purpose, he strode into the small room and pulled the door shut behind him. It slammed shut with a loud noise, officially locking them into the confined space. Nolan and Kaytee reached for identical headphones, sliding them into place as they watched, waiting.
Delaney gazed up at him, her lips pursed. "Who the hell are you?" she sneered.
"I'm Agent Price," Price replied. "And I suggest that you watch your tone with me."
Delaney huffed, much like a child would.
"You're under arrest for the murders of five men, and one of them is your nephew, Quinton," he informed her, as if she didn't know already. "But I suppose you're well aware of that fact."
"I didn't kill my nephew. I didn't know those men, either," she said through gritted teeth. "Are you done?"
Price lifted a brow, and as he spoke, the sound echoed. "That's interesting because you seemed to have an established relationship with Bobby Black. Apparently, you two had more than a few rendezvous."
There was a small twitch to the corner of her mouth, but that was the only indication she was fazed by being caught in a lie. Delaney shifted, her movements stopped when her cuffs held her back from getting comfortable. They probably hurt, but she wasn't the type to whine.
"Maybe I knew him," she conceded. "Whatever. We fucked, it was fun, that's it. Doesn't mean I killed him."
"But it means you lied to me," Price argued. "If you can't even be honest about something as simple as that, how can I be certain that you're telling the truth when you say you aren't a murderer?"
"Do you want me to break down, Agent?" she said, mocking him.
He remained impassive.
"I'm not gonna cry for you and beg you to let me go. I'm not a damsel. I'm not some bitch who's gonna roll over for you and jump through whatever hoops you set up for me. I see that you've made up your mind, and nothing I do is gonna change that," she said.
"Did you kill them, Ms. Robinson?" Price pressed.
"No," she told him, like the fuse inside her was growing shorter and shorter by the moment.
"I think you did," he went on.
Nolan knew what Price was doing. He recognized how volatile Delaney was, and he was doing whatever was necessary to push her buttons. If he could get her to break, he could get her to explode, and that was exactly what they were looking for.
The woman they were looking for was violent, easily set off. When she got angry, she got malicious. Price wanted to prove that Delaney fit that description.
"How did it feel when you stabbed Quinton for the first time?" Price asked. "I bet he couldn't believe it. He probably gasped for breath and pleaded for his life, but you had no mercy. No, you killed him, and then you cut out his eyes so he wouldn't look at you anymore."
"I didn't kill Quinton," she insisted, her skin growing clammy.
"Bullshit."
"It's true."
"No, it's not. Deep down, you're ashamed. He's the one kill you feel remorse over. The other men, they deserved it, right? Is that why you sawed off their genitals? Huh?"
She stared at him, hateful daggers in her irises. "You're a sick bastard."
"And you're a serial killer," he shot back.
Her nostrils flared. "I'm not."
Price slid a pad of paper across the table, clicking his pen. "You know, if you sign a confession now, we can reduce your sentence. We can make a deal and keep you off death row."
"I don't need a deal," she spat.
"Do you think a jury will feel the same way?" he challenged. "I don't know about you, but five brutal homicides doesn't get anything less than life behind bars. And when we talk about this level of overkill, against a member of your family no less, people want justice. Do you want to live, Ms. Robinson? Because they'll put you down like the animal you are—"
She threw the notepad across the room as hard as she could, thrashing as she pulled at her handcuffs. "I'll kill you! I'll slit your gullet right here and now! You want a killer? Fine, I'll be one! I'll kill you! I swear I'll kill you!"
Unwittingly, she'd given Price exactly what he was looking for. The woman Nolan had first arrested, who walked into the funeral parlor timidly, was somewhere far from there. In her place was an unhinged monster, who had enough fury inside her to fuel something awful if she were set free.
This was a person who could murder five men, mutilate their remains, and feel no guilt, no shame.
"You son of a bitch!" she shouted. "You fucked-up son of a bitch!"
Price cleared his throat, showing no fear as he watched her struggle. "Are you done yet?"
Her face grew red, and despite the hopelessness of her attempts, she still fought. "Go to hell."
He leaned in a little closer, his face paling with barely contained anger. "There goes your deal."
She drew in a mouthful of saliva and spit it at him. He swallowed hard, stare glazing over.
As he wiped himself off with his sleeve, he said a few final words.
"I'll see you in court."
When Price stepped out, he needed a few seconds to contain himself. Delaney quickly realized the futility of her actions and fell back into her seat, collapsing and folding under the weight of her own stormy emotions. The adrenaline was probably pulsing through her body, and Nolan knew they would leave her there until she was calm enough to be taken to a holding cell.
Price hiked his thumb at the woman behind the glass. "Foster, let the DA know she's going to need a lawyer. Her bail hearing will be tomorrow."
Nolan nodded. "Yes, sir."
Nolan knew the chances of her receiving bail were slim to none. In an instance of multiple first-degree murder charges, suspects were held in high-security situations. Delaney was too lethal to be let out, and even though it disgusted him to consider it, cold-blooded villains deserved their due process too. Yes, it was a pointless exercise, but they were left with no alternatives. Rules were rules.
His phone buzzed with a message, catching Kaytee's attention.
"Who is it?" she wondered aloud.
"Lexi," he answered. "She dropped off the evidence. We should have results soon."
"That's good to hear," Kaytee said. "Jesus, can you believe this is out of our hands now? They might call us in to testify, but aside from that, we're done."
"Damn," Nolan breathed.
Kaytee smiled ever so slightly, her whole body relaxing with relief. "It's over. It's really over."
"Well, don't celebrate just yet," Price butted in. "We have a hell of a lot of paperwork to do. But, Carlisle, you're right. We caught our killer. Good work, you two."
With that, Nolan and Kaytee were dismissed to return to the main office. Since Kaytee was the main tie between the FBI and the media, she would be making calls for the rest of the workday.
The walk to the violent crimes task force felt surreal. Nolan wasn't sure what to make of the resolution. He'd lost sleep for weeks, haunted by the carnage, and now it was finished. There were a few loose ends to tie, but otherwise, he could see the end approaching.
Nolan reached for the handle of the door, holding it open for Kaytee to walk in first. She shook her head, giggling at the gesture.
"You're too polite for your own good," she said.
"My mother would disagree," he said back, the corners of his mouth lifting in a small, uncertain grin. It felt wrong to rejoice, especially when the reason came as a result of horrific events. Still, he would take the victories where he could get them. Life at the Bureau was rewiring him, and Nolan was figuring out how he felt about that.
Dre ran ahead, scooping Kaytee off of her feet in a bear-hug. One of her high-heels slipped off, smacking against the floor. She snorted, clinging to him so she wouldn't fall over. "Dre!"
"We did it, KC!" he said cheerfully. "Can you blame me?"
Dre set Kaytee down, and she slid her foot back into her shoe. "I guess not."
There was so much trust in the way Dre held her. Nolan felt a twinge of envy flicker through him, and he shifted his eyes away. It was a stupid thing to be jealous over, but when his small crush on Kaytee flared up, his efforts went into trying to shut it down.
Darren held out his hand for a shake, and Nolan returned it. It wasn't a huge gesture, but it spoke volumes. They were a team, and for a while, Nolan didn't feel like he fit in with the group. It took a hell of a lot of cases and work, but he was getting there. They were a family, the closest thing he had to one in Dallas.
"I don't get it, how are you so chill right now?" Dre asked. "I mean, come on, Kaytee, what's with the poker face?"
"I'll feel better when I finally get a full night of rest," she said.
Out of everyone Nolan worked with, Kaytee needed it most. He'd witnessed her sleeplessness firsthand, from her constant caffeination to her overworked mind. Unlike Darren, who left his work at the office, and Dre, who detached when necessary, she never shut off. Nolan knew that feeling too. It was what made this investigation so trying, so draining for him.
"The Dallas murderer is locked up," said Darren, his jaw slack. "We did that. I'm proud of us."
Nolan was proud too. He had a great team, and there was no place else he'd rather work. This case only affirmed that. Despite all of the heartache and long days, he was making a difference, and he wouldn't trade that for anything.
"You killed it out there, Foster," Dre told Nolan, clapping him on the back. "You're a legend already."
"Oh, I—" Nolan stammered. "I-I don't know—"
"Accept the compliment, Foster," Kaytee said wryly. "Don't be weird about it."
"Thanks," Nolan finished clumsily.
"You're welcome," said Dre, raising two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute.
Nolan chuckled and moved back to his desk, trying to hide his heated cheeks. It was painfully obvious that he was the inexperienced new guy, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was high on their win.
After that spark of excitement, the unit returned to normal. The day wasn't over, and there were still a few nitty-gritty details to finalize. Nolan arranged for Delaney to get her attorney, Kaytee made plenty of calls, and Dre started hunting for their next case. Even with the busy work, the atmosphere didn't fade. That was constant.
We got her, Nolan reminded himself. We did that.
That night, when Nolan got back to his small apartment, he pressed his back to the wall and stayed there for some time, just drinking it all in.