J.T. Ellison - Judas Kiss

“I want to see her. I want to see her right now. I want to see my daughter!” His voice rose in pitch until the last word came out in a wail. Taylor heard shutters clicking as Wolff dropped to his knees in the grass between the two houses, sobbing. The video cameras rolled, gathering the scene. It was heartbreaking, and would make for a very exciting five o’clock news hour.

Taylor stepped to his side, squatting down to get face-to-face with him. Damn it, she didn’t want to be on the news doing this.

“Mr. Wolff,” she said as kindly as she could muster. “You need to get up and come with me now, sir. Let me get you situated next door and we can chat. The sooner we can do that, the sooner I can get you reunited with Hayden.”

“My son,” the man screamed. “My son is dead and you’re holding my daughter. This isn’t right. This isn’t fair!”

Fitz appeared at her side. She caught his eye, gestured with her head. Histronics weren’t going to help. They both took hold of an arm and raised Wolff to his feet. He was crying hard, tears and snot mingling into channels running down his chin, but he stopped yelling. A step in the right direction. Without further incident, they were able to get him all the way to the Manchini front door and slip him inside.

Taylor’s phone rang, and she pulled away, letting Fitz guide the distraught man to the now familiar chintz couch. Carla Manchini stood in the middle of the great room, watery eyes shining behind her glasses. This was more excitement than the woman had seen in years.

Seeing an unfamiliar number, Taylor decided to let it go to voice mail and joined Fitz, Mrs. Manchini and Todd Wolff in the great room. Probably a reporter anyway.

“Mrs. Manchini, do you think it would be possible if we could have the room to ourselves for a few minutes so we could speak to Todd alone?”

Disappointment clouded the older woman’s eyes, but she nodded like a little bird. “It’s nearly time for me to leave for my book club, it’s going to take me at least thirty minutes to get to Davis Kidd. There’s a fresh pot of tea in the kitchen. Can I trust you to lock up for me, Lieutenant? Normally I don’t worry about it, but now…”

“Of course, ma’am. We truly appreciate all your help today. You’ve been a huge asset.”

Tickled, the woman gathered her purse, a well-thumbed copy of Tasha Alexander’s A Fatal Waltz and left. Her book group would be hearing some exciting tales this evening.

Todd Wolff was collapsed on the sofa. He’d stopped actively crying but was sniveling, wiping his nose with the back of his wrist.

Taylor took a seat in the chintz armchair next to him. She waited for him to gather himself, handed him a tissue from the crochet-covered box sitting on the end table next to her. He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat.

“Mr. Wolff, can I ask where you’ve been?”

When he didn’t answer immediately, Taylor sized him up. He was a handsome, well-made man, with a thick shock of black hair, flashing black eyes, and deep stubble along his cleft chin. Looking at him, Taylor thought about the fair Hayden and wondered, just for a minute. Two dark-haired, dark-eyed parents, and their offspring a blonde with clear blue eyes. Interesting, genetics.

With a huge sniff, Wolff finally began to speak. “I have a property getting ready to open in Savannah, Georgia. I was down there overseeing the last bits and pieces. There’s a million things to be done, and I’m the one who has to get the checks written.”

“You build houses? Wolff Construction?”

“Yes.”

“When did you leave for Georgia?”

“Friday, around noon. I’ve been going every two weeks now that we’re getting close to wrapping the project.”

“You normally drive?”

“Yeah. I’m a successful developer, but I’m not made of money. It’s cheaper that way.”

“Seems like a long trip,” Fitz observed.

“I like the drive. It clears my head.”

“Did you usually spend the weekend when you made the drive?” Taylor asked.

“Yes. I come back on Monday afternoon.”

“When’s the last time you spoke to your wife?”

Wolff was quiet for a moment. “Saturday morning.”

“That was the last time?”

“Yes.”

“Did you try to call her again after you spoke on Saturday?”

“Yes. I wanted to read Hayden a story Saturday night. It was our tradition.”

“She didn’t answer?”

“No.” Wolff’s voice wavered, but fresh tears stayed in check.

“Weren’t you concerned that you couldn’t reach Corinne?”

Todd flinched at the mention of his wife’s name. “I wasn’t really paying attention, God help me. I was so caught up in the problems we were having on-site that when I didn’t reach her, I just left a message. I figured she was out with her sisters anyway. When I went out of town, she usually did a girls’ night with friends, or hung out with Michelle and Nicole and watched movies. She’d get a babysitter for Hayden sometimes, take advantage of some private time. I tried to call her again at around ten, but when the answering machine kicked on, I hung up. Tried her cell once, then went to bed myself. She didn’t like me checking up on her.”

“And you tried on Sunday?”

“I called Sunday around noon, and she didn’t pick up. But again, it didn’t worry me. She’s very independent, doesn’t need me around to keep her entertained. Since I have to go out of town so often, she’s used to it. How did she, how was she…”

He started crying again. “Who did this, Lieutenant? I love my wife. We got along, had a beautiful little girl, a son on the way. We were happy. This isn’t the kind of thing that happens to happy people.”

Oh, if it were only that easy, Taylor thought. The good and happy people get to lead normal lives, bad things only happen to bad people. Yeah, right. “Unfortunately, I can’t answer that for you right now, Mr. Wolff. Let’s talk some more about your interests in Savannah. Where do you stay when you go down there?”

“There’s a Hampton Inn down the street from the property. My secretary can give you all the particulars.”

“That’s where you stay every time?”

“Yes. It’s convenient, and clean. And not too expensive. I have to watch the bottom line, you know?”

“Your company has made quite a name for itself. How’d you get into construction?”

“The honest way. I worked summers for my dad, he operated a heavy crane for a guy over in Ashland City. I had a chance to do little bit of everything. I love carpentry, love to see homes rise out of nothing. I’ve got a decent head for figures. It was a natural extension of my upbringing. Why does that matter?”

Taylor crossed her legs. “We’re just talking here, Mr. Wolff. Is the business doing well?”

“Better than I deserve.”

“No money issues? You guys were doing okay financially?”

“Lieutenant, I hardly think—” He stopped, the implication of Taylor’s question hitting him. “You think I did this.”

“I’m just trying to get a feeling for your life, Mr. Wolff. I’m not implying anything. Tell me about your finances. You mentioned that you drive instead of fly because it was cheaper. Is your business having problems?”

He became very still. “Lieutenant, what happened here? What happened to my wife? No one will tell me.”

The raw emotion tugged at Taylor’s center. She caught Fitz’s eye. Either this guy was one hell of an actor, or he genuinely didn’t know the manner in which his wife had died.

“Mr. Wolff,” Taylor tried again. “Do you and your wife fight?”

He met her eyes, his gaze direct and unflinching, deep pools of pain. “Of course we fight. We’re not perfect. We have tiffs, like every other married couple in the world. If you’re asking if I killed my wife, the answer is no.”