Allison Brennan - Fatal Secrets

She pointed and her eyes watered.

“Did he do this?” Sonia gestured to Kirsten’s neck.

Kirsten grabbed the whiteboard and wrote frantically. Sonia wasn’t sure she translated it right, but said to Dean, “He didn’t try to kill her, but he did something else.” To Kirsten, “What did he do?”

Kirsten was frustrated, erased her words and thought, then drew a crude picture of a bird.

“A bird?”

“Helicopter,” Dean said. “Ask her if she came to Sacramento in a helicopter or plane.”

“Did this man fly you? Take you in a plane?” When Kirsten looked at her quizzically, Sonia said, “Did you fly in the air? Was this man a pilot? Or did he come with you?”

She wrote in French: He drove plane in air. He did sex to me .

“Did he hurt your neck?”

No. Crazy man want to kill me .

Dean said, “Sonia, the river victim.”

“I can’t show her that picture.”

“You have to. He’s connected to Jones as well. He’s big with large hands.”

Sonia didn’t want to show Kirsten the dead man’s photo, but the girl was strong and wanted to help. Sonia said to Kirsten, “The next picture might upset you. The man is dead. He doesn’t look right, okay? I want to show it to you, but be strong.”

Dean handed her the crime-scene photo.

The recognition was instant. Her eyes widened and she nodded and pointed.

“Kirsten, calm down,” Dr. Miller took her hand and petted it. “Shh, you don’t want to hurt yourself.”

Sonia reiterated what Miller said, then added, “He hurt you?”

She wrote: He wanted to kill me while we do sex. I didn’t want to die. I hurt him, too .

Sonia asked Dean, “Did the autopsy report any scratches or injuries to the victim?”

“I haven’t seen the report. I’ll call.”

He stepped from the room, and Dr. Miller said, “Your crime-scene gal, Ms. Charles, took a rape kit that included scrapings from under Kirsten’s fingernails.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Sonia said. “We might have something to compare it with.”

“He’s dead?”

“Yes. He was found in the river yesterday.”

“Apropos. I hope he suffered.”

He didn’t suffer enough, but at least he can’t hurt anyone else .

* * *

Noel Marchand was not pleased with being interrupted while he meditated. He didn’t ask for much from his staff: competence, loyalty, and peace. He rarely got what he wanted.

“What is it now?”

Mr. Ling said, “Raul is on the phone. He is at the hospital and hasn’t seen Agent Knight. Wasn’t able to find the brother, either. I called and Riley Knight was released at one A.M.”

Noel tensed. “Are you certain?”

“Yes. Raul then checked the residences, and all are empty-no one home. He’s watching, but he’d like direction.”

“The kid is first. He’s always been first. He needs to be dead. Where is the fucking kid?” Raul was his best sniper, had served him well over the years, and he’d called him in last night specifically to kill Sonia Knight. But the kid could identify him, and that would not do. Until Noel was safely back in Tres Palos, or the kid was dead, he couldn’t be certain the kid wasn’t a risk.

Anyone who escaped was a potential danger to his organization. Look at that bitch Sonia Knight.

“The kid is the priority. But he needs to be prepared to take care of Agent Knight on my command.”

“Are you sure-”

Noel looked at Mr. Ling. He didn’t have to say a word, but Ling understood.

“Yes, Mr. Marchand. I’ll let Raul know.”

Dean wasn’t one hundred percent confident that letting Sonia interview Johan Krueger was the best use of their time. Krueger hadn’t talked to anyone but his attorney since he was arrested, not even a word to his cell mate. But Sonia was adamant that she must see him.

“I can get him to talk,” she vowed. “He used a knife from Argentina, just like Vega’s killer. He brought Kirsten to Sacramento to be killed for the sick pleasure of that bastard in the morgue. I just wish he’d suffered a hell of a lot more.”

Sonia was highly stressed. Dean suspected it had more to do with the photograph of her biological father and Kirsten’s comment about being a whore. Sonia was taking it personally. Sometimes, cops who put themselves in the victim’s shoes ended up turning the case for the good. Other times, it ate them alive.

Dean didn’t want Sonia hurt anymore. While there was no doubt in his mind that she could handle anything life threw at her, he wanted to keep her safe. She was well-trained and sharp. Smart. But this case had gotten too personal for her to be wholly objective.

Krueger was brought into the interview room of the county jail.

He sat down and stared blankly at the wall behind Sonia.

She introduced herself and said, “Mr. Krueger, the charges against you are serious, and I have additional charges that my office will be bringing.”

No reaction.

“The girl you tried to kill Wednesday night at Sutter Hospital? She’s awake. She’s talking. And she pointed a finger at you . You flew her to Sacramento. You raped her. And you handed her over to-” she slid a photo of the river victim in front of him, “this man who tried to kill her. Now, he’s dead.”

Krueger couldn’t resist glancing down at the picture of Kirsten’s attacker. Surprise crossed his expression before he became stony again. Dean was surprised that after hours of interrogation and nothing, five minutes with Sonia had sparked a reaction.

“I have your DNA. I have an eyewitness identification. I have you and I have your knife, and surprise surprise, your knife matches another knife used in another murder.”

Nothing.

“Who do you work for?”

Nothing.

“Where did the girl come from?”

Nothing.

“Who paid you to kill her? To bring her here?”

Nothing, nothing. The man was a statue. Clearly frustrated, Sonia slammed her fist on the table.

“I work for Immigration . You are a German national . You are going to pay for this, no matter what, no matter who you know, who you pay, who wants you alive …” she paused. “That’s it. You talk, you die.”

A blink.

“Oh. I get it. Great. You don’t want to talk to me? Fine. Don’t. You don’t have to say a fucking word.”

She turned to Dean and he knew exactly what she had in mind.

“Agent Hooper,” she said, “can you put a press conference together?”

“Absolutely. When? Who do you want there?”

“As soon as possible. In time for the noon newscast. Radio and television, might as well get print in as well. We have a witness.” She glanced at Krueger, then turned to Dean. “Do you think we can get witness protection?”

“If he gives us information.”

“Can you work on that? I want to prepare for the press conference announcing that we have a witness who is in protective custody. I don’t want to give away his identity …”

“Why not simply say it’s the pilot of the helicopter who was the last to see the minor rape victim before she was attacked?”

“Oh, that’s good! Thanks.”

Krueger spoke with a growl, “You won’t say a word.”

Sonia whirled on him. “Watch me.”

She left the room.

“Bitch,” Krueger said.

Dean looked at him. “If you don’t think she’ll hold that press conference, just wait.”

“She doesn’t scare me.”

“Who does?”

“Someone who should scare you, Agent Hooper.”

Dean left and heard Sonia telling the chief corrections officer to monitor the prisoner’s phone calls.

“We aren’t allowed to eavesdrop without a warrant, and not if he’s talking to his attorney.”