Jeffery Deaver - The Bodies Left Behind

Eventually, by talking to his colleagues and friends and reviewing scraps of notes and logs of phone calls, Brynn had discovered that some neighbors of a businessman named Samuel Rolfe had complained about his new girlfriend’s treatment of her young children.

The girlfriend’s name was Michelle Kepler.

Bingo.

The Milwaukee police had set up surveillance around Rolfe’s house but before they could get a warrant to move in, Brynn had gotten the phone call from the purported manager of the Harborside Inn. It struck her as suspicious and, after hanging up, she’d checked the incoming number. A prepaid mobile.

She was sure the “clerk” was Michelle, setting her up to be shot.

Tom Dahl called Milwaukee PD and they put together a tactical team to collar the woman as soon as she left Rolfe’s elegant house.

Only one question remained. Did Brynn want to arrest Michelle in person?

The debate raged-oh, how badly she wanted to. But she finally decided no.

A detective from the Milwaukee Police Department dressed in a Kennesha County Sheriff’s Department uniform and using a department squad car drove to the rendezvous at the Harborside Inn.

Brynn McKenzie went home.

The bell rang again-Tom Dahl, ever proper-and Joey let the sheriff back into the house. He was grinning as he stood in the doorway to the family room. “Get this. They’ve got reporters everywhere!” He laughed. “Fox, CBS and I’m not talking the local affiliates. Even CNN. The mayor’s wondering if everybody who works there’s blond.”

Brynn laughed. “That’s the way they grow ’em in Atlanta.”

The sheriff continued, “Michelle’s being transported to our lockup tonight. You’ll want to interview her, I assume.”

“You bet. But not tonight. I told you. I have plans.”

So, is what I’m about to do now a good idea, or a bad idea?…Why even bother to ask the question? It doesn’t matter. I’ve already made the decision.

She’d done what she needed to capture the Feldmans’ killers; now it was time to begin reassembling her life. Or trying to.

She rose and walked him to the front door. Stepping outside, he said, “So what’s going on that’s so important?”

“I’m making dinner for Anna and Joey. And then we’re watching American Idol. ”

Dahl chuckled. “It’s a rerun. I can tell you who wins.”

“’Night, Tom. See you in the office bright and early.”

AT 9 A.M. on a stormy Friday, Michelle Alison Kepler sat in one of the two interrogation rooms in the Kennesha County Sheriff’s Office. Originally for storage, the rooms had been stripped of shelves and boxes and set up with fiberboard tables and plastic chairs, along with a Sony video recorder from Best Buy. One of the deputies had installed a mirror he’d bought at Home Depot but it was for effect only. Any experienced perp could see it wasn’t two-way. But in Kennesha County pinching pennies was part of law enforcing.

Minus her gun, armed only with pen and paper, Brynn sat down across from Michelle. She looked over at the woman who had lied to her so ruthlessly. Yet Brynn was oddly calm. Sure, she’d felt some sting of betrayal at the deception, thinking that they’d begun that night as survivors, then become allies, and finally friends.

But Kristen Brynn McKenzie was a cop, of course. She was used to being lied to. She had a goal here, information to gather, and it was time to get to work.

Michelle, confident as ever, demanded, “Where’s my son and daughter?”

“They’re being well taken care of.”

“Brynn, please…They need me. They’ll go crazy without me. Really, this is a problem.”

“You took your son to Milwaukee to help kill me?” Brynn’s voice couldn’t quite hide astonishment.

Michelle’s face blossomed in horror. “No, no. We were just going to talk to you. I wanted to apologize.”

“He’s seven. And you took him with you. With a gun.”

“It’s for protection. Milwaukee’s a dangerous town. I have a permit but I lost it.”

Brynn nodded, her face neutral. “Okay.”

“Can I see Brad? He’s miserable without me. He could get sick. He inherited my low blood sugar.”

“Wasn’t he adopted?”

Michelle blinked. Then said, “He needs me.”

“He’s being well taken care of. He’s fine… Now, you’ve been arrested for murder and attempted murder and assault. You’ve been advised of your rights. You can withdraw from this interview at any time and speak to an attorney. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Michelle glanced at the red light on the video recorder and said, “Yes.”

“Do you wish to have an attorney present?”

“No, I’ll talk to you, Brynn.” She gave a laugh. “After all we’ve been through…why, we’re sisters, don’t you feel that? I shared with you, you told me about your problems at home.” She glanced at the camera with a sympathetic wince. “Your son, your husband… We’re like soul mates. That’s pretty rare, Brynn. Really.”

“So, you’re waiving your right to an attorney?”

“Absolutely. This is all a misunderstanding. I can explain everything.” Her voice was soft, reflecting the burden of the injustice that had befallen her.

“Now, why we’re here,” Brynn began. “We’d like a statement from you, telling the truth about what happened that night. It’ll be much easier on you, on your family-”

“What about my family?” she snapped. “You didn’t talk to them, did you? My parents?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t have any right to do that.” Then she calmed and gave a hurt smile. “Why’d you do that? They hate me. They lied to you, whatever they said. They’re jealous of me. I was on my own from day one. I made a success of my life. They’re losers.”

Brynn’s research had revealed that this was a woman whose background appeared normal and stable but whose personality was not. She’d grown up in a middle-class family in Madison, Wisconsin. Her parents still lived there, mother fifty-seven, father ten years older. According to them, they’d tried hard but had thrown up their hands at what Michelle’s mother called the “vindictive little thing.” Her father called her “dangerous.”

The couple, horrified at what their daughter was accused of, though not completely surprised, explained how Michelle had made a career out of jumping from man to man-and in two cases a woman-living off them, then picking fights and scaring the hell out of her lovers with her enraged, vengeful behavior; ultimately they were grateful to see her go. Then she’d be onto someone else-but only if she had that someone else all lined up ahead of time. She’d been arrested for assault twice-attacking boyfriends who’d dumped her. She’d stalked several men and had three restraining orders in force.

Michelle now said, “You can’t trust anything my family says. I was abused, you know.”

“There’s no record of that.”

“How’s there going to be a record? You think my father would admit it? And they threw out my complaint. My father and the local police chief, they were in on it together. All I could do was get away. I had to fend for myself. It was hard for me, so hard. Nobody ever helped me.”

“It’ll be easier,” Brynn continued, deflecting the woman’s sob story, “if you cooperate. There’re still a few things we’d like to know.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” she whined. “I just wanted to talk.”

“You pretended to be the hotel clerk. You changed your voice to sound Hispanic.”

“Because you wouldn’t understand. Nobody understands me. If I’d been me, somebody would have arrested me and I’d never have the chance to explain. I need you to understand, Brynn. It’s important to me.”