Chapter 170: Trusting Their Own (2/2)

”No! I am trying to give you some background on how I knew her and now you tell me that I hurt her? I don't want to get in trouble for something I didn't do. You're saying I did something I never did.”

”Okay, we understand.” Now Nash sounded placating.

”How would the two of you feel if the tables were turned on you,” he claimed.

”No, we understand completely,” Nash assured once again.

”You're free to go whenever you want. If this makes you uncomfortable—”

”Now you are starting to make me uncomfortable,” he shouted.

”The thing is nobody was arrested on the case. They looked at all the angles they could think of and now we are looking at the ones they didn't. That's the procedure, right?” Nash asked matter-of-factly.

”I don't know…”

”Obviously you know that technology and evidence interpretation had changed over time. Would you be okay with giving us a DNA sample?” Nash asked. We had no DNA evidence, but we could make it seem like he had left behind evidence on the newest package.

”Maybe? Now you are making me think that I should be talking to a lawyer,” he laughed. Almost nervous. ”I know how this works. I have been doing this a long time and I wish I was recording this conversation. It sounds like you are trying to pin this on me.”

”You know this as well as we do, we need to identify potential cases and eliminate them,” I interjected into the rant.

”I can't believe this!” he banged his fist on the table. Good thing he didn't carry weapons with him because I was sure he would pull it out in this scenario to defend himself.

”Well, we got a package this morning and worked hard on it to get all the prints and DNA samples from it. If we run it against you, will you be willing to give us that data?”

Come on, take the bait! I willed him to do it. It wouldn't prove anything, but I wanted to see how far he would go to wriggle out of punishment. Or did he love his son more? Which would make him talk?

”Maybe. I know—”

”That's all we ask. We will do what we can to put this together,” Nash interrupted. ”Your name is in the book. For whatever reason. And it would be irresponsible on our part to overlook you.”

”You guys are doing your job. And I have to contact somebody, so…” He looked at the two of us.

”That's fair,” was all I said.

The Director-General got up from his chair, mumbling as he went towards the door. I shot Nash a look.

”The analyst is waiting outside. We have him,” he whispered so that he couldn't hear us. My heart settled in my chest.

”We let him go, see what the evidence is, and then get the cuffs on his hands,” I gritted through my teeth.

We were out of the door and the analyst was waiting jitterily beside it. ”The Director-General just stormed up the stairs with his phone. He is calling a lawyer!” he panicked.

”Don't pay him attention. What did you find?” Nash tried to calm the younger man.

The analyst turned the laptop screen towards us. Pictures.

Hundreds upon hundreds of pictures.

Of the Director-General in various kinds of women's clothing, gagged and bound. Some were in a pit in what looked like the backyard, while others were in their house. From the angles, I knew that the camera was not placed on a stationary surface and put on a timer. Someone was clicking these pictures from various angles.

”It's Benny Phillips, isn't it? He clicked the pictures,” Nash said, awe evident in his voice.

”He was helping his father realize his serial killer dreams. It was probably why he never killed anyone himself, instead helped and nurtures others to do it,” I explained.

”We have him!” Nash cheered.

”We do,” I nodded. I turned to the analyst. ”Get printouts of the photos of him and those of the victims' ID cards and bodies. I need it in ten minutes.” I looked at Nash. ”Go arrest him. Take a few officers with you so that he doesn't pull out a weapon and wriggle out of the situation. And I will go bring back all the crime-scene photos to show him the difference in lighting and angles.”

Nash gave a huge grin. ”Let's get a confession and location out of him, shall we?”

”Let's,” I repeated.

Just hang on a little longer, Evie. I'm coming for you.