Page 115

ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN

CROOKED CREEK POLICE STATION

Ellie needed a way to force Modelle to talk. That meant enough evidence to indict him for his wife’s murder, then she’d use that as leverage. The promise of a possible deal might convince him to reveal where he’d left Mazie and Ivy. Although if she had anything to do with it, he would still spend his life in prison.

Determined not to let Modelle escape justice, Ellie printed copies of the photos Cord had taken and made notes on the case to use to interrogate Modelle.

A short stocky, dark-haired man in a three-piece suit showed up a few minutes later and introduced himself as Wilson Hamilton, Modelle’s attorney. Ellie recognized him from the case files where he’d represented Modelle the first go around. His smug, arrogant smile instantly made her dislike him.

“I need to speak to my client,” he said, his leather briefcase in hand.

“We’ll bring him to an interview room,” Ellie said, irritated they had to follow the rules when Modelle certainly hadn’t.

She showed him to interview room one, then retrieved Modelle. He shot her a venomous look as she took him by the arm and escorted him to the room. The attorney waited, his jaw set tight, shoulders thrown back in a statement of power.

“You have ten minutes,” Ellie said. “Then we’re going to talk.”

She shut the door, wishing like hell she could listen in to their conversation as she went to her office.

Derrick met her there.

“ERT lifted several sets of prints from the Woodston house,” he said. “They’re running them now. Dr. Whitefeather also found particulates beneath Claire’s nails and sent them to the lab. Prints and DNA are also being run and compared to Modelle’s.”

Ellie nodded. “Hopefully Laney will confirm an ID on the body in the wall.”

“I arranged for Modelle’s wife’s medical records to be sent to the medical examiner’s office,” Derrick said.

Ellie gathered the photos and her notes, wishing she had the DNA results now, but she’d use what she had and fill in the blanks.

Derrick followed her to the interrogation room. When she opened the door, Modelle and the lawyer looked confident. Too confident for her.

“Mr. Modelle, Mr. Hamilton,” she began.

“Is my client under arrest?” the attorney asked.

Ellie forced a calmness to her voice; she wanted to bark yes, that Modelle would never leave a jail cell again. But she had to remain professional.

“Yes, we’re still deciding what exactly those charges will be,” Ellie said. “As you know, we can hold him twenty-four hours for questioning.” By then hopefully she’d have more evidence with the woman’s ID and DNA and fingerprint results from both Modelle’s house and the Woodstons’. “I’m sure you’ve advised your client that it’s in his best interest to cooperate.”

The attorney folded his arms. “That depends on what you have to say.”

Ellie and Derrick exchanged a look, then she opened the folder she’d brought in and one by one laid the photos of Modelle dragging the body to the grave he’d dug. “Photographs don’t lie. Mr. Modelle, who is the woman you were burying?”

Modelle’s eyes flickered with unease.

Hamilton touched his hand over Modelle’s signaling him to remain silent. “Who took those photographs and did you have a warrant to search his property?”

Ellie expected him to argue that they were inadmissible. “One of the men on our task force took them,” she answered. “Your client is a person of interest in a murder investigation and was under surveillance. He fits the profile of the person who killed Taylor and Heidi Woodston. He was also seen in Emerald Falls watching a little girl and following her.” She paused. “In addition, the grave he dug was not on his personal property. The AT is part of the National Forest.” She pinned Modelle with a challenging look. “That’s why you were moving the body from inside your house, wasn’t it? So you could claim you knew nothing about it.”

The attorney leaned forward. “If the body wasn’t found on his property, then someone else could have put it in that grave.”

Ellie’s patience was wearing thin. “He was literally caught in the act of removing it from the wall and burying it,” she said, her voice cold. No way he was getting out of this.

“Coupled with the fact that we’ve connected the murdered twins to a woman named Barbara Thacker—” she added a picture of Barbara to the table “—and the fact that Modelle had motive to hurt Barbara, he became a serious person of interest in our homicide investigation.”

“What motive would he have to kill those little girls?” Hamilton asked.

“Barbara Thacker reported Mr. Modelle to DFACS for abusing his child and testified against him when charges were filed.” She stared the attorney in the face. “Then again you represented him and already know that.”

Modelle shifted, his cuffed hands folded on the table. “What the hell do those kids have to do with that bitch Barbara?”

Ellie switched her gaze to Modelle, waiting. “Don’t pretend you don’t know, Modelle.”

His breath huffed out. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe you should explain,” the attorney said curtly.

Ellie didn’t intend to divulge the truth about Barbara or her friends. “You’re lying, Modelle. You killed your own child then wanted revenge against Barbara.”

“Unless you have proof, let’s move on,” Mr. Hamilton said through clenched teeth.

Ellie pointed to the pictures of the grave. “You first put this woman in the wall of your house. Our forensic team is there now and have sent pictures of where you destroyed the wall with an ax to remove her. I suspect that woman was your wife. And that you killed her because she told the police you abused your daughter and she believed you killed your little girl.”

“She was the abuser,” Modelle shouted before his lawyer could stop him.

Ellie’s pulse pounded.

“You’re lying,” Ellie said flatly. “There were statements from Barbara in the investigation into your daughter’s murder saying that your daughter admitted you abused her. She never named your wife in the abuse.”

“Because she was afraid of her,” Modelle snarled.

Ellie stewed over his allegation. There were cases of female abusers, but they were less common than male abusers. “Come on, Modelle, we have enough here with these photos to arrest you. And soon we’ll have fingerprints and DNA to prove you were at the Woodstons’ house. Claire Woodston even got DNA from her killer beneath her fingers. We’re running those now.”

Modelle gave her a deadpan look. “They won’t be mine,” he said. “Because I was never in that woman’s house. And I did not kill those twins.”

Ellie crossed her arms, studying him. “You know, Mr. Modelle, if you tell us where you took Mazie and Ivy, we might be able to work out a deal for you.”

Modelle lurched up, jowls reddening. “I told you I didn’t take them. So I don’t need a damn deal.”

His lawyer pulled at his arm. “Sit down, Mr. Modelle.”

He seemed sure of himself, Ellie thought. She’d have to wait on forensics to confirm.

Derrick cleared his throat. “If you’re telling the truth, Mr. Modelle, then you’ll agree to a lie detector test.”

Modelle slapped his hands on the table. “Then let’s get it over with. And I’ll prove to you that I’m innocent.”

Ellie detested his arrogance. Then again, sociopaths were excellent liars and confident they could fool someone into believing them. Sometimes that was their downfall.

She hoped to hell it was his.