Page 12 of A Dead Man’s Pulse (Trident Security Omega Team #1)
The last of murmuring conversations halted among the guests as Ian’s voice grew louder and angrier. “All right. I’ll be there in twenty. Don’t start the interrogation until I get there . . . Parrish, you can wait twenty frigging minutes! I—”
Ripping the phone from his ear, he glared at it.
“Bastard hung up on me.” He looked up to find everyone staring at him.
His gaze searched and found Reggie Helm and then Calvin Watts, who Logan knew was on the local FBI’s Hostage Negotiation Team.
“Need you both to come with me. Parrish said they made an arrest in the serial killings, and you’ll never freaking believe who it is because I sure as hell don’t. ”
Oh crap . While everyone wanted the bastard, who’d been torturing and killing submissives in the BDSM lifestyle in and around Tampa, caught, it was clear Boss-man wasn’t happy about the suspect that’d been arrested.
When the name Carl Talbot was spat out of Ian’s mouth, there were stunned gasps followed by cries of disbelief.
Unfortunately, Logan had no idea who the man was.
Foster and McCabe stepped over to their teammates as Ian, Helm, and Watts ran to the latter’s vehicle with a promise they’d update everyone as soon as they could.
Foster shook his head. “It can’t be. I’ve known the guy for about a year now, and while he’s a sadist in the kink community and a Whip Master here at the club, I can’t see him being good for this. ”
Logan eyed the team leader. He didn’t understand the lifestyle, and Foster’s statement confused him even more. “Maybe because I’m out of the loop, but a sadist, who whips people for fun, sounds like a viable suspect to me.”
“That’s because you don’t get BDSM—most people who aren’t in the lifestyle don’t.
While some people do it for ‘fun,’ as you said, most Doms and submissives need different aspects of BDSM like the air they breathe.
Some people need a particular kink to get through life.
In Talbot’s case, he needs to be needed by the submissives—and what some submissives need is to be whipped.
He trained long and hard to become a respected Whip Master like Donovan and Mistress China.
” Foster subtly pointed at an angry, petite, Asian-American woman talking animatedly with DeAngelis and Brody “Egghead” Evans, another member of the Alpha Team.
Logan was stunned that the gorgeous, dark-haired woman named Charlotte Roth, who he’d been introduced to earlier, wielded a whip in the club.
“A trained Whip Master never breaks the skin and knows exactly when to stop. I’ve watched Talbot many nights at the club and never once saw anything that would make me think he’s the sick bastard who killed those women. ”
“Isn’t that what people usually say after some guy blows away his entire family?” Lindsey asked. “They never thought he could do that.”
McCabe nodded his head. “True. But I’m with Cain. Even though I’m still a Dom-in-training, I can’t see Talbot being the killer.” He shrugged. “All we can do now, though, is wait to hear what Boss-man learns.”
The mood of the party had changed dramatically.
Several women involved in the BDSM community wiped tears from their eyes, while others vehemently defended Master Carl.
Logan still didn’t quite get it. Maybe when he had some downtime, he’d research the lifestyle his teammates and coworkers were into some more.
For now, he strode over to one of the coolers filled with beer and grabbed his second and final one of the day.
Ian stormed into the Tampa FBI office on the heels of Calvin Watts, with Reggie Helm right behind him. The only reason Ian wasn’t leading the way was that they were heading toward an interrogation room and needed Watts’s key card to get into the secure area.
Still in shock from the phone call he’d gotten about twenty minutes ago, Ian hoped like hell the Dom they’d brought in for questioning concerning the homicides wasn’t guilty.
Master Carl Talbot was a long-time member and Whip Master of The Covenant.
The sadist’s title and proclivity were probably why he’d ended up on Special Agent Colt Parrish’s radar.
Technically, he hadn’t been arrested yet, but from what Parrish had told Ian over the phone, it might only be a matter of time.
Parrish was one of the agency’s top investigators regarding serial killers, and he’d come from Quantico, Virginia, when the body count started to climb and the press got wind of the story.
While Ian wasn’t a huge fan of the man, dealing with him was far better than going head-to-head with SAC Stonewall.
At least Ian and Parrish both agreed the FBI supervisor was a prick.
Watts waved his wallet in front of a scanner next to a door leading to the secure area, and when the light on the device turned green, he grabbed the handle and pulled.
There were four interrogation rooms off the hallway, with an observation room between the two on the left and another between the two on the right.
A light above one of the doors on the left was lit, signaling an interrogation was in progress.
Ian followed Watts into the attached observatory as Helm barged his way into the room where Parrish was peppering Talbot with questions. Both men startled at the intrusion.
Ignoring the other men and one woman who’d been in the observatory following the interrogation, Ian watched through the one-way glass as Helm cut off whatever the Special Agent had been about to say with a slash of his hand through the air.
“I’m Mister Talbot’s lawyer, Reginald Helm, and this interrogation is over. Either charge him, or we’re leaving.”
Parrish wasn’t happy with that announcement if his frown and furrowed brow were any indications. Ian realized with relief that they didn’t have enough evidence to formally arrest Talbot. Hopefully, that also meant Parrish was completely wrong about his analysis and had hauled in the wrong man.
As Parrish stood and gestured to the door, Helm snatched the bottle of water sitting on the table in front of Talbot, who had obviously taken a drink from it.
“You want DNA, you get a court order,” Helm snapped at the fed before facing the one-way mirror.
“Ian, we’ll wait for you in the parking lot. ”
When Talbot stood, Ian studied the man he considered a friend.
There was no way the fifty-four-year-old was the killer, even though his tall, thin build, pointed nose, narrow eyes, and dark hair, which was graying at the temples, often gave him the look of a vampire when he was dressed in his club leathers.
Today, the college professor was dressed comfortably in khakis and a green polo shirt.
Moments after the three men left the interrogation room, the door to the observatory swung open, and Parrish stepped in.
In addition to Ian and Watts, also present were TPD Detective Isaac Webb, Dr. Suki Ralston, an FBI Behavioral Analyst, commonly known as a profiler, and two other special agents who’d been assigned to the case.
Biting his tongue, Ian waited for Parrish to speak since he was very close to blowing his top.
The case’s lead agent propped himself against the wall with his shoulder and crossed his arms. He glared at Ian. “You had to bring the fucking lawyer with you, didn’t you?”
“Damn right,” he growled, “because you’ve got the wrong fucking guy. If I thought Carl had a minute chance of being the killer, I would’ve dragged his ass in here myself.”
“He doesn’t have an alibi, or one he’s willing to share, for any of the kidnappings. As for the murders, we know the suspect is keeping them for anywhere between twenty-four to seventy-two hours, so he could have made the necessary appearances to throw everyone off his scent.”
Ian glanced at the petite, dark-haired beauty at his side.
Despite it being the weekend, she was dressed in a business suit with a skirt and four-inch heels that showed off her shapely legs.
If Ian wasn’t married and madly in love with his wife, he might have made a play for the woman—although he doubted she was a submissive.
“What about you, Doc? What’s your opinion? ”
This was Dr. Ralston’s third trip down to Tampa from Quantico to update the profile on the UNSUB, or unknown suspect.
She preferred to see the crime scenes herself, but since she was working on several cases, it wasn’t always possible for her to be there.
From what Ian had heard, she was one of the best, holding a Ph.D.
in Criminal Psychology. He’d been impressed with her initial and follow-up analysis of their killer, even if it hadn’t helped them catch the bastard yet.
Ralston’s gaze flashed to Parrish and then back to Ian.
“I actually agree with you. I don’t believe Carl Talbot is our UNSUB.
Not only is he older than I suspect the killer is, but his occupation and background also don’t match my profile.
However, that being said, behavioral analysis is not absolute.
It’s a tool, and I’ve been wrong before.
” A small smile formed on her attractive, exotic-looking face, and her brown eyes twinkled.
“Not often, mind you, but it has happened once or twice. Anyway, I will agree with Agent Parrish that any potential suspect, no matter how slight a chance of being our UNSUB, needs to be eliminated.”
Ian nodded his head and then glanced at Parrish. “Okay. I don’t like it, but I understand. However, I hope you’re still looking for other suspects because there’s no way I’ll believe Talbot is our killer.”
“That’s because you like to beat on women as much as he does.”