Page 8 of The Last To Know (Hallowed Halls Series #2)

C ooper waited until they were back in the Suburban before calling Jane.

“Hey there, Coop. What can I do for you?”

Jane had adapted using the nickname that Zeke gave him, but it was okay. He told her what he needed. “Anyone who might have had contact with my father. I want the names of people who interviewed him. Any doctors who saw him while he was in prison. Visitors. Other prisoners. Anyone.”

“I’ll get started on it right away.” She hesitated. “How are you holding up? This must be hard.”

He appreciated everyone’s concern, and they were right. It was difficult. But he just wanted to do his job and find the person responsible for killing Giselle Witherspoon.

“I’m okay. Thanks for asking. Let me know when you have anything.” He ended the call. “What’s our next move?” Cooper reversed and drove away from the mansion.

“I’d like to speak to the husband next,” Hannah said. She read something on her phone. “Looks like Giselle Witherspoon was having trouble with pain medication after her injury. There are a couple articles about her seemingly being under the influence while out at restaurants or clubs.”

Cooper glanced her way. “Stands to reason. She suffered a knee injury that was severe enough to end her career.”

“True. Siegler just texted Daniel Witherspoon’s number. She says he’s still in Grand Island. I’ll call him and set up a meeting.”

Cooper glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed a car some distance behind them. It had been there for a while. Just his imagination?

He slowed, drawing Hannah’s attention to him. “Anything wrong?”

No need to worry her unnecessarily in case he was seeing killers everywhere. “No, just thinking.”

The car sped up and passed. The windows were tinted enough that Cooper only saw what he believed to be a man behind the wheel.

Soon, the car disappeared down the road and his thoughts returned to the case. How had the killer come in contact with Giselle in the first place? Though he told everyone he hadn’t watched any of his father’s interviews. Shortly after he joined the BAU, he’d come across an interview with Oliver Ellison from a few months before he’d died. The interview had been with a podcaster who wanted to feature the Embalmer case for her listeners. She’d asked how he found his victims. Cooper would never forget what his father said. He’d looked straight into the camera and said he only chose victims worthy of him.

He’d seen an arrogance about his father that he hadn’t noticed before.

“Daniel Witherspoon is staying at a friend’s house in town. He said we could stop by now.” Hannah squinted at the phone, and Cooper smiled. She’d told him she was supposed to wear glasses but hated them. She’d tried contacts, but they didn’t work.

She gave him the address.

“Looks like Jack and the team are at Tiffany Beckham’s home. They met her parents there.” Zeke stuck his phone into his coat pocket. “I hope they find her.”

If Tiffany turned up unharmed, then perhaps they were wrong about the copycat and Giselle’s killer had accidently copied the signature of a serial killer. But Cooper’s gut told him differently. This killer had some connection to the original Embalmer case.

“It’s up here on the right.” Hannah pointed to a small, white-framed home vastly different than the Witherspoons’.

Cooper pulled up behind a Mercedes, and they got out.

Hannah knocked on the door.

A man answered. Cooper recognized Daniel Witherspoon from several photos he’d seen of the man with his wife during happier times.

“Mr. Witherspoon, I’m Hannah London. I spoke to you a few minutes earlier.”

“Yes. Please, come in.” Witherspoon led them to a small living room. Cooper glanced around at the tiny space, and Witherspoon must have noticed.

“This place is our maid’s home. She became our friend over the years. Serena adored Giselle.” His voice broke, and he turned away to gather himself.

There were a handful of photos of Giselle, most taken from her many performances.

“We’re sorry for your loss, Mr. Witherspoon. Thank you for agreeing to talk to us.”

Witherspoon indicated the sofa, and Hannah sat.

Cooper wandered to the window overlooking the road. Cars passed by. One captured his attention. A white sedan . . . like the one he’d seen following them after they left the Witherspoon estate. Another car passed. White as well. Cooper gave himself a mental shake. He was letting the case get to him.

He turned as Hannah asked the difficult but necessary questions.

“How long have you and Giselle been separated?”

She’d known the answer, but it was important to confirm the husband’s story matched what had been documented.

Zeke had requested Witherspoon’s phone records to pinpoint he was indeed where he said he was and not capable of murdering his wife.

“Three weeks.” Witherspoon clasped his hands together. “My wife had a problem with prescription drugs and alcohol. I thought it would get better in time.”

“It didn’t?” Hannah kept her attention on his face, analyzing every reaction.

“No, it didn’t. When the doctor no longer prescribed painkillers, she resorted to drinking.” He seemed genuinely in anguish. “I loved my wife. I still love her. But being a ballerina was her whole life. She’d trained for it since a child, and she was one of the best.”

“When was the last time you spoke to your wife previously?”

Witherspoon thought about it. “A few days ago. I kept in touch. I always hoped I could talk her into getting treatment. We could save our marriage.” He sat up straighter. “Wait, she told me something. Said she had a feeling someone had been in the house before.”

This grabbed Cooper’s attention right away.

“Did she say why?” Zeke had been documenting Witherspoon’s answers.

“She said there were things moved around. She found the remote to the TV in the kitchen.” Witherspoon shook his head. “I just assumed she imagined it. They were only minor things, and with her drinking . . .”

“Where had she been the night she died?” Cooper wondered if Giselle had met up with someone who followed her home.

“I don’t know. Serena came earlier in the day. She said Giselle was still sleeping. She did the cleaning and checked on her. Giselle got up and ate something. That was around four. I never spoke to her that day. I had a busy workload. I got back to the apartment around ten. Went straight to bed. Then I got that phone call from her.”

Witherspoon leaned forward. “There is something else. Giselle told me she thought she was being followed. She said she noticed the same man at several different places she went during the week.”

Hannah glanced to Cooper before asking, “ Did she get a good look at this man?”

He shook his head. “Not really. She said he was older. Average looks. It wasn’t unusual for her to have admirers. She had fans all over the world. Some crossed the line and tried to get close.”

This grabbed Cooper’s attention. “In what way?”

“Letters. Trinkets. Things like that.”

“Did she keep them?” Hannah asked.

“Yes,” he told her. “I gave them to Detective Siegler.”

They’d have to get them from Siegler. From here on out until proven otherwise, Giselle Witherspoon was their case.

“Can you think of anything else?” Hannah continued. “Anything she might have said in passing that seemed strange?”

Witherspoon ran a hand across his eyes. “Not that I can remember. I have your number. If I remember anything I’ll call immediately.”

Hannah thanked him and stood. “I appreciate your cooperation, Mr. Witherspoon.”

He followed them to the door. “Please find out who did this to her. Giselle had her issues, but she didn’t deserve this. She was just trying to get her life back on track. I always hoped . . .” Tears burned in the depths of his eyes. “We talked about working on our marriage. I loved her. Please, find the person who did this to her and make them pay.”

The raw anger, hurt, and pain written on Daniel Witherspoon’s face was like looking into Cooper’s own soul. He’d been there. Felt everything Witherspoon felt. Wanted to exact revenge on his father. He’d often wondered if the police hadn’t arrived when they did, would he have done the unthinkable? Would he have become his father?