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ONE HUNDRED SIXTEEN

Ten minutes later, Modelle was back in his cell. Ellie and Derrick met with the polygraph administrator for the results.

He produced a printout of the test and pointed to the lines created on the page by Modelle’s results. “You can see when his pulse jumps, when his breathing changes and his blood pressure rises. It’s slight and he’s good at trying to fool the machine but he did exhibit indicators of lying.”

Ellie and Derrick studied the page. “Explain.”

“Well, look at the baseline questions.” He pointed out the straight lines then the rising peaks and jaggedness in spaces, then compared to the questions regarding his family. “He told the truth about having a family, but these results indicate he lied about abusing his daughter, killing her and killing his wife.”

Ellie breathed out. Just as she had expected.

“Now look at the questions regarding the twins’ murder and the abductions.”

Ellie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her gaze flew to Derrick who looked puzzled.

“He was telling the truth about not killing the twins and the abductions,” she said, stunned.

He scratched his chin. “It’s possible he learned techniques to control his physiological reactions but according to these indicators, he didn’t abduct or murder the missing girls.”

Dammit.

“We can’t release him,” Ellie said.

Derrick shook his head. “No, we have the pics of him removing his wife’s body from the wall and burying it. That’s enough to file charges for her murder.”

Frustration filled Ellie. Now they just had to make the charges stick.

But if Modelle wasn’t responsible for the twins’ deaths and the abductions of Mazie and Ivy, who was?

Ellie’s phone dinged. Cord. She answered immediately and explained about the polygraph. “Modelle denies killing his daughter and wife although the polygraph indicates he’s lying.”

“He is,” Cord said with conviction.

Ellie’s pulse jumped. “We need concrete evidence. Otherwise, his attorney will argue it’s his word against a dead woman’s.”

“Forensics found pictures of his daughter locked in a cage in the wall with the woman. Odds are his prints are all over them.”

“Great,” Ellie said. “I think he was moving her off his property in case we searched his house. Good work, following him.”

“I just had a hunch.”

From growing up in abusive foster home . But he didn’t say that and she didn’t push it. One day maybe he’d confide more about his past.

“Her body has been transported to the morgue,” Cord said.

“I’m calling Dr. Whitefeather next,” Ellie said. “Did forensics find anything else? Maybe pictures of the twins or Mazie and Ivy.”

“Not yet. They’re still processing the house.”

Ellie thanked him, then hung up, turned to Derrick and relayed the team’s findings. “I’ll phone the ME. Hopefully the lab has analyzed some of the prints and samples collected and she has news.”

Ellie made the call. “Putting you on speaker, Laney. Agent Fox is here. Tell me you have evidence against Modelle.”

“I haven’t gotten far with the body at his place, but the woman’s prints match Modelle’s wife’s. I also collected his DNA from underneath her nails and her clothing.”

“Got him,” Ellie murmured. “What else?”

“The necklace McClain found at Modelle’s definitely had Modelle’s fingerprints. DNA on the trinket box also matched Modelle’s.” Laney hesitated, her voice filled with urgency.

“Hot damn,” Ellie said shifting on the balls of her feet.

“Were his prints or DNA on the twins’ bodies? Or Claire Woodston’s?”

“Afraid not,” Laney said. “They also didn’t match the ones found at the counselor Delilah Short’s house either.”

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose. “He must have worn gloves.”

A tense heartbeat passed. “That’s possible. Although I compared the prints and DNA at Delilah’s office and they match the ones recovered at the Woodston house.”

“I don’t understand,” Ellie said.

“I don’t either but I ran them twice,” Laney said.

“That means someone else was at both places.”

“It appears that way.”

“Have you identified who they belong to?” she asked.

Another tense pause. “Yes, a man named Nathan Jeb Huller. He’s thirty years old and lives in an area known as Gnat’s Landing.”

Nathan Jeb Huller. Why did that name sound familiar to her?

“Text me his address.”

“Will do.”

“If you learn anything else, call me,” Ellie said.

“Of course.”

They ended the call, the name Nathan Jeb Huller rolling over and over in Ellie’s mind. She definitely recognized it. But from where?

Heart hammering like a freight train, she pulled her notes on the people she’d questioned in Taylor and Heidi’s murder case and people connected to Barbara.

Suddenly it hit her. She stood, her breathing erratic. “Derrick, Huller works as a janitor at the school where Barbara taught. We need to talk to Barbara now.”

Derrick grabbed his laptop, his expression eager with hope that they had a solid lead. “I’ll look into him while you drive.”