Page 35
Story: No Quarter
Patrick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I touched them inappropriately a couple of times,” he said finally. “They got angry, and Gillian slapped me once. But I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt them.”
Valerie leaned back in her chair, trying to process what she had just heard. So, Patrick had admitted to touching the two victims, but he claimed it was accidental and that he didn’t meanto hurt them. Valerie could sense the defeat already. Patrick Ives had done terrible things, but it was possible that he wasn’t the killer.
“Did you ever touch them again after that?” she asked.
Patrick shook his head. “No, I stepped back. Kept myself away from them after that. I knew I was attracted to them, but I didn’t want to do anything that would make me lose my job.”
“So, you never had any kind of sexual contact with either of them?” Valerie pressed.
Patrick hesitated for a moment before answering. “No,” he said finally. “I never did anything else. I swear.”
Valerie didn’t believe him, not for a second. Abusers rarely told the truth. They very rarely confessed to anything they hadn’t been explicitly caught out on. And when they did, they blamed anyone and everyone but themselves.
Valerie was still conflicted about whether he was the killer or not, but even if he wasn’t, he was still a predator. She had no doubt that he had abused his position as a security guard at the retreat in an abhorrent way. And she suspected that, even if he hadn’t killed anyone, he would have escalated into even more dangerous behavioral patterns later on.
“We’re going to need to look into your background a bit more,” she said, rising from her chair. “But for now, stay here. One of our other agents will speak with you shortly.”
Will and Valerie stepped out of the interview room, leaving Patrick Ives alone with his thoughts and the glare of Charlie.
“What do you think?” Will asked.
“I don’t think he’s our guy,” Valerie replied. “He might be a creep, but I don’t think he’s a killer, not yet at least.”
“I think you’re correct, Valerie,” Will said. “But he is still connected to both victims. We could be overlooking something about him.”
Charlie joined them a moment later, closing the door behind him and shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he said in a low voice. “I still think there’s a possibility he could be involved. The guy just seems like the type.”
Valerie sighed. If it were only that simple. But the law had to be followed, and Valerie felt bound to the concept of innocent until proven guilty. Just because heseemedthe type didn’t mean hewas.
She decided to take the middle ground.
“Okay, we don’t rule him out,” she said. “But we have him in custody now. He’s going to be charged for his previous assaults. Of that, you can be sure. At least where he’s going he won’t be able to harm anyone else. But in terms of our case, we should bring in an interviewer for him while we keep heading out into the field. I think it’s safer to assume we haven’t caught the killer than to down tools only for some other poor victim to turn up.”
“What do we do now?” Charlie asked. “It’s getting late.”
“I’m not ready to rest yet. I want to talk with the staff at the retreat. Let’s find out if anyone else thinks Patrick might be the killer.”
CHAPTER TEN
As Charlie drove, Valerie sat in the passenger seat looking out to the darkened streets of Buford Town. They were on their way to Elmwood Psychiatric Retreat. But the town seemed different in the darkness.
An ominous feeling bubbled away beneath its tidy lawns and clean streets.
“This must be a nice place to live,” Will said from the backseat.
“I was just thinking the exact opposite,” Valerie replied.
“Why’s that?” Charlie chimed in.
“Something about this town feels wrong,” she said. “Like it’s hiding a darker side to its idyllic façade.”
She could feel the eyes of the townspeople watching them through twitching curtains as they drove by, their curiosity and suspicion seeping out into the night air.
Valerie wondered if they knew the FBI were around. The townsfolk certainly knew about the murders. And as the bodies piled up, so too would the pressure from the media and the higher ups. Gossip was so easily turned into news pieces and news pieces turned into policy decisions.
But even if Will was right and Buford townwasa nice place, there was still no way to know who or what lurked within these small towns out of sight. There could be danger around every corner, a threat just waiting to strike at the next unsuspecting victim. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
And Valerie knew she wouldn’t stop until she uncovered all of those secrets, no matter what it took. Whether it was Patrick Ives or not, the killer had gotten away with his crimes for long enough. Others might do the same thing too. Copycat killers were always a risk. She couldn’t let that happen—not while shestill had breath in her body and a need to seek justice in her heart.
Valerie leaned back in her chair, trying to process what she had just heard. So, Patrick had admitted to touching the two victims, but he claimed it was accidental and that he didn’t meanto hurt them. Valerie could sense the defeat already. Patrick Ives had done terrible things, but it was possible that he wasn’t the killer.
“Did you ever touch them again after that?” she asked.
Patrick shook his head. “No, I stepped back. Kept myself away from them after that. I knew I was attracted to them, but I didn’t want to do anything that would make me lose my job.”
“So, you never had any kind of sexual contact with either of them?” Valerie pressed.
Patrick hesitated for a moment before answering. “No,” he said finally. “I never did anything else. I swear.”
Valerie didn’t believe him, not for a second. Abusers rarely told the truth. They very rarely confessed to anything they hadn’t been explicitly caught out on. And when they did, they blamed anyone and everyone but themselves.
Valerie was still conflicted about whether he was the killer or not, but even if he wasn’t, he was still a predator. She had no doubt that he had abused his position as a security guard at the retreat in an abhorrent way. And she suspected that, even if he hadn’t killed anyone, he would have escalated into even more dangerous behavioral patterns later on.
“We’re going to need to look into your background a bit more,” she said, rising from her chair. “But for now, stay here. One of our other agents will speak with you shortly.”
Will and Valerie stepped out of the interview room, leaving Patrick Ives alone with his thoughts and the glare of Charlie.
“What do you think?” Will asked.
“I don’t think he’s our guy,” Valerie replied. “He might be a creep, but I don’t think he’s a killer, not yet at least.”
“I think you’re correct, Valerie,” Will said. “But he is still connected to both victims. We could be overlooking something about him.”
Charlie joined them a moment later, closing the door behind him and shaking his head. “I don’t know,” he said in a low voice. “I still think there’s a possibility he could be involved. The guy just seems like the type.”
Valerie sighed. If it were only that simple. But the law had to be followed, and Valerie felt bound to the concept of innocent until proven guilty. Just because heseemedthe type didn’t mean hewas.
She decided to take the middle ground.
“Okay, we don’t rule him out,” she said. “But we have him in custody now. He’s going to be charged for his previous assaults. Of that, you can be sure. At least where he’s going he won’t be able to harm anyone else. But in terms of our case, we should bring in an interviewer for him while we keep heading out into the field. I think it’s safer to assume we haven’t caught the killer than to down tools only for some other poor victim to turn up.”
“What do we do now?” Charlie asked. “It’s getting late.”
“I’m not ready to rest yet. I want to talk with the staff at the retreat. Let’s find out if anyone else thinks Patrick might be the killer.”
CHAPTER TEN
As Charlie drove, Valerie sat in the passenger seat looking out to the darkened streets of Buford Town. They were on their way to Elmwood Psychiatric Retreat. But the town seemed different in the darkness.
An ominous feeling bubbled away beneath its tidy lawns and clean streets.
“This must be a nice place to live,” Will said from the backseat.
“I was just thinking the exact opposite,” Valerie replied.
“Why’s that?” Charlie chimed in.
“Something about this town feels wrong,” she said. “Like it’s hiding a darker side to its idyllic façade.”
She could feel the eyes of the townspeople watching them through twitching curtains as they drove by, their curiosity and suspicion seeping out into the night air.
Valerie wondered if they knew the FBI were around. The townsfolk certainly knew about the murders. And as the bodies piled up, so too would the pressure from the media and the higher ups. Gossip was so easily turned into news pieces and news pieces turned into policy decisions.
But even if Will was right and Buford townwasa nice place, there was still no way to know who or what lurked within these small towns out of sight. There could be danger around every corner, a threat just waiting to strike at the next unsuspecting victim. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
And Valerie knew she wouldn’t stop until she uncovered all of those secrets, no matter what it took. Whether it was Patrick Ives or not, the killer had gotten away with his crimes for long enough. Others might do the same thing too. Copycat killers were always a risk. She couldn’t let that happen—not while shestill had breath in her body and a need to seek justice in her heart.
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