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They were a family and always would be.
Chapter Five
The Door County Sheriff’s Department had one dispatcher. The entire office took up two floors that were both the size of the coffee shop next door. Interrogation was upstairs at the back, behind the bullpen. They had four deputies on day shift, two on nights permanently, and a boss who’d run unopposed for fifteen years. By all accounts Gingrich was a decent sheriff, but Kenna had no interest in rapport or cooperation.
She took the file with her into the interrogation room, having left most of her weapons in the car. The deputy had noticed she wasn’t wearing her gun on her hip and waved her in after letting her know where she could hang her coat. No one had patted her down, searched her, or asked her what else she was carrying.
Marion Wells’ hands were cuffed to the table. Her thin sweater didn’t provide much protection.
Kenna stuck her head out. “Turn the heat up in here, Deputy. It’s freezing.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Kobrinsky made a face.
He’d better not pump the heat and make them sweat, as ifthat might induce Marion into talking. Kenna just didn’t want the temperature to be so cold it could be perceived as inhumane treatment. Marion’s lawyer would be able to use that, and anything else the police or Kenna did, to argue her case.
If Marion believed Kenna could command the police here, at least to an extent, she might see Kenna as an authority figure as well as the PI who had exposed her deeds.
Kenna pulled out a chair and sat. Whether the deputies or the sheriff were watching didn’t matter. She wasn’t here to put on a show. “You’ve been read your rights, and declined counsel, is that correct?”
Why not confirm—and sound official at the same time.
Marion stared at her, the pale skin and dark circles under her eyes more pronounced than yesterday at book club. The lines on her face had deepened. Now that Kenna knew why this woman had taken each of the eight girls, and why she eventually disposed of them, it didn’t reassure her of anything other than that she’d done the right thing coming here. This woman had effectively hidden her crimes for decades.
No one in town even suspected her.
If it wasn’t for Kenna, one more girl would be dead.
She didn’t show Marion the file. Only stared down her nose as though Marion was beneath her. “You said to the police that you’d tell me where the bodies are buried. So where are they?”
“Maybe I just wanted to waste their time.”
“And mine.” Kenna got up from her seat, shifting the file slightly with her fingers and hoping Marion would take the bait.
Her hands shot out, the cuffs jingled, and she grabbed the file.
Kenna watched her reaction. The eager way she flipped through pages, soaking up a chance to see eachof them again. As if obsessed with just the memory of them, and what they had meant to her.
“This is blank!” Marion cried. “Where are they?”
Kenna leaned down, one fist on the table. “You don’t get to see the lives you destroyed. But youaregoing to return them to their parents.”
If it was up to Kenna, Marion would never again see even images of the girls she took in a newspaper or on TV. If it was up to Kenna, Marion wouldn’t even be able to remember what they looked like.
Even though God could do that, since He could do anything, she didn’t ask. It was a little self-serving, since it would only be out of anger and a need to take from Marion after she’d taken so much from the people in this county.
“I bet you’re pretty proud of yourself.” Marion paused. “Catching the notorious kidnapper.” Her expression hardened. Trying to get a rise out of Kenna?
Rather than take the bait, Kenna stood there. Completely still and silent.
Long enough to hear the air vent in the ceiling begin to blow warmth down.
No reaction.
“Bested me,” Marion spat. “Like you best all the others.”
“It’s a shame you didn’t see me coming,” Kenna shot back, before she could think it through.
A better Christian than her would have managed to stay quiet. She might’ve felt pride at Marion’s house, knowing she had the answers and would be the one to finish it. Now, there wasn’t much of that left. Just a whole lot of sadness over the tragic loss of life.