Page 15 of Unhallowed Murder (A Paranormal Halloween #2)

Chapter Thirteen

Ronnie walked into her office in heels and a pantsuit, with her hair in a bun. “Is Flores’ girlfriend ready for me?”

“She’s all yours,” Myers said. “Been stewing in the box about twenty minutes.”

“Any problems bringing her in?”

“No. She’s pissed, but you said not to cuff her unless we had to for safety reasons, so we didn’t.”

“You have a printout of her boyfriend’s confession for me?”

Corey looked up from his monitor. “On your desk, along with everything else you asked for, plus the initial report on her SUV. She was killed in the back. Bastard put the seat down, stretched her out.”

So she had part of the crime scene, they just didn’t know where it’d been parked during the murder.

She’d have to look through the report later — she didn’t want the girlfriend waiting too much longer.

Corey had put the confession printout into a plastic protector, and then sealed the protector inside a heavy-duty resealable zippered storage bag.

Through the layers of plastic, it looked like the original.

She walked into the room with a large purse, kept on hand specifically as a prop. Ronnie found it made her entrance feel more casual, like a girlfriend coming into the restaurant and taking her seat.

“Mariah? I’m sorry we had to bring you in like this, but I need your help. I’m Veronica Woods, and I need to ask you some questions about your boyfriend. Do you call him Jorge or Calacas?” Ronnie had verified with Ramirez that Flores’ first name was pronounced hor-hey , and not George .

“He’s my Jorge — my everything — and I ain’t talkin’ to no smurfs.”

“So, the two of you have a monogamous relationship? Or is it okay for you to get some strange on the side?”

“ Strange ? Damn, how old are you?”

Ronnie laughed. “But it’s okay, right? You can fuck who you want, when you want?”

“No, and I’d stick a bitch if I found out she fucked my Jorge.”

Ah. Progress, except this likely meant she hadn’t killed Wendy. It’s possible Mariah just wasn’t very bright, but most people don’t go around making those kinds of statements if they’ve recently shot someone in the head.

Ronnie didn’t scent a lie, but Mariah’s emotions were all over the place, so she needed to keep going. Not that this next piece of news would calm her down.

“I believe you, which is why I have to wonder… well, I’ll just let you read it for yourself. I assume you recognize Jorge’s handwriting? Or is it all texts these days, and no writing?”

Mariah took five minutes to read through it, and Ronnie was certain she read the first half and then started over again.

At Ronnie’s prodding, the asshole had detailed how he’d raped Wendy vaginally and anally, and had used a condom to keep from leaving DNA evidence.

He’d also worn gloves so there’d be no prints, a hat to keep his hair from shedding, and he’d shaved his pubes beforehand, which went to show premeditation.

“He told me he shaved for me, as a surprise, so I wouldn’t get hair in my teeth!”

“Did you kill Wendy Abrams?”

“She’s dead? The bitch is dead!? That’s what this is about?!”

All Ronnie could scent was Mariah’s hurt and anger, and it wasn’t possible to be certain of whether she was telling the truth or not. However, it was clear she hadn’t known her boyfriend had raped Wendy, which meant she probably hadn’t killed her.

“Yes, someone killed her. We thought Jorge did, but now we aren’t sure. He says she was alive when he was finished with her. We know she was killed the same night, likely sometime before daylight. ”

Her eyes narrowed. “If I could help you put him away, I would.”

“I believe you. Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone for you?”

“No. Do I get a ride back home?”

“Up to you, but the ride home will be in a cop car.”

She sighed and shook her head. “I’ll call someone. Can I have my phone back?”

Procedure dictated Ronnie should leave, and then a deputy would show Mariah to the property area and return her things to her, but Ronnie had just given her horrible news, so she walked her to the property area and told them to turn her loose.

“I’m sorry I had to give you bad news, but now you know.”

“You ain’t bad, for a smurf.”

Ronnie grinned. “You’d think I’d at least get to be Smurfette.”

She smiled, and Ronnie turned and made the trek back to her murder room.

Everyone was back at their desks, and Agent Graham sat on the other side of Carter’s desk. The two seemed to have hit it off.

She looked to Myers’ desk, just outside her office door.

“I saw notes on the victim’s boyfriend when I was in my office earlier.

Give me a few minutes to look them over, and we’ll go talk to him.

” She looked at Agent Graham. “He’ll know you talked to her before she was killed, and he may blame you. Mind if I take this one without you? ”

“Not a problem. He can answer questions to your murder but not the bribery case.” He sat back, trying to look casual and put her at ease, which only put her on alert.

“Our bosses have been talking over our heads about Flores and Ramirez. I asked to be the one to tell you, even though it wasn’t my decision. ”

She sighed. “Yeah, I kinda thought they might. You’re getting them for everything, aren’t you?”

“Afraid so. The cases are tied together so tightly, it makes sense to handle them in one trial instead of two. This was the prosecutors making a deal over our heads. However, I’ve convinced my boss to let you keep them another twenty-four hours, in case you need to question them again for your murder case. ”

“I appreciate that, and in the end, as long as they’re put away, that’s the important part.”

He stood, stepped forward, and offered his hand. “It was a pleasure working with you. I’ve made sure your men have everything I could get on Mick Griffin. I’ll send one of my agents with you to clear the way with Griffin’s bosses, but you’re probably right about me not showing my face.”

Ronnie shook his hand. “Thank you. If there’s anything we can help you with in the future, let us know.”

She watched him leave, and turned towards her office.

“The boyfriend’s clean at first glance,” Detective Carter said from behind her, “but Graham got us some inner-office data that shows he’s been to anger management classes seven times in the thirteen years he’s worked for the post office.”

“He teaches Sunday School at his Baptist Church,” said Sergeant Perry. “He’s assistant coach over the church’s youth baseball team, and he plays for the men’s team. He’s divorced, with only supervised visitation of his own kids, so I have to wonder why he’s being trusted with the kids at church.”

“I wonder how he feels about Halloween,” Ronnie said. “Someone take a look at the church’s website and see if they had an activity for the kids Saturday night, please, and whether they call it Halloween or a Fall Festival.”

Ronnie sat at her desk and looked over the file.

The suspect’s given name was Micah Griffin, and he was certainly big enough to have carried Wendy to the zombie display — six four, two hundred and ten pounds.

The full body shot of him looked more like a basketball player than a baseball player.

His DMV photo made him look angry, while he appeared friendly in his post office ID shot. Go figure.

Both made him look pious.

If he killed her at work, this would end up being Graham’s case, too.

But that wasn’t likely.

Ronnie considered every angle, and decided she didn’t want to question him at work, but she also didn’t want to wait.

She wanted to see his anger up close and personal — piss him off good and see what came out.

He had a concealed carry license, but he couldn’t carry at work, so it was the logical place to pick him up.

She hooked a body cam to her suit jacket, and instructed Henderson and Myers to do so as well.

She looked to the FBI agent. “If you can clear the way for us without alerting him, we’ll be along about ten minutes after you.”

He nodded and left, and she turned back to her men.

“The passport office is just inside the main door of the post office. Henderson, you’ll walk into the passport office with me.

Myers, I want you inside the post office, but around the corner so Griffin can’t look out and see you.

Everyone else — go back to the cases you were working on before we landed Wendy’s case. ”

“LT.” This from Carter. He knew his Lieutenant took Henderson when she didn’t want to intimidate a suspect.

Henderson, in his snazzy suits, looked like a runway model.

No way would a six-foot-two-inch athlete with a black belt in two different disciplines see Henderson and a small female as a threat.

Her men knew her too well, but that didn’t mean she was going to change things up. Henderson might not look like a badass, but he could hold his own, and so could she.

“We’ll be fine,” she assured them. “Myers will be right outside the door in case there’s a problem. Ya’ll want to make me happy? Get me at least one case cleared by the time I return.”

The three rode in Henderson’s car, and Ronnie ordered a squad car to keep close, so he could transport the suspect if he didn’t come willingly.

She read through the reports of what had been found in the car, and looked through the pictures.

With the seat down, there was a decent amount of room to move around.

They found hair that wasn’t hers, but it wouldn’t prove anything if it was her boyfriend’s.

“The car doesn’t help,” she said. “We need to figure out how he got home from the strip mall.”

“I’ve been working on that,” said Henderson. “I haven’t found anything yet. We need his phone records.”

“We don’t have enough to convince a judge.”

Henderson pulled into the post office parking lot and slid into a parking space.

She unfastened her seatbelt. “Let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?”

When Ronnie and Henderson walked into the passport office, Mick Griffin was behind the counter, talking to a woman across the counter about what her signature meant, and why she wanted to be sure everything was accurate.

Three people sat on benches, waiting.

“Micah Griffin?”

He glared at her. “If you have an appointment, please sit and wait until you’re called.”

This man had also been in Wendy’s bedroom. Ronnie recognized his scent. He was her boyfriend, so it didn’t mean he’d killed her, but she’d only smelled two men in that bedroom.

She wore her badge on a lanyard, and she lifted it to be sure he saw it, but kept her friendly smile.

She was certain this video was going to be important, so her actions needed to be impeccable.

“I’m Lieutenant Woods, with the Hamilton County Sheriff’s Office, Mr. Griffin.

We need you to come downtown for questioning in the murder of Wendy Abrams.”

He froze, and the scent of terror filled the room. Not fear. Terror .

Ronnie looked to the people waiting for their passports.

“I’m terribly sorry about this. I don’t know if someone else can come fill in for Mr. Griffin or not, but he might have information that can help us figure out who murdered his girlfriend, so he’s going to have to come with us.

If I can ask ya’ll to step outside while we work through the logistics with him? ”

Everyone moved to leave, and he said, “No! They’re just local cops. I’m a federal employee. My orders trump theirs. Stay.”

His last word was given as an order. Two of the customers hesitated, but Ronnie shook her head at them and they all filed out.

“You can’t take me in! I’m a federal employee! You have no right! I’m a man of God! An upstanding citizen!”

“Which is why you should come with us willingly, Mr. Griffin. Any fine, upstanding citizen should want to help law enforcement find the man who killed his girlfriend.”

She walked around the desk and into his space. “Let’s go, sir. You can ride with us, and we’ll bring you back when we’re finished.”

He stepped forward and looked down, trying to intimidate her. “I’ll be more than happy to come in after my shift ends at 4:00, but my work here is important , and you won’t interrupt it.”

Ronnie lost her smile and stepped in closer, invading his space. “Murder trumps passports in the whole importance game, Mr. Griffin. You can come willingly or in handcuffs, totally up to you.”

She saw the arm snake around and knew what he was about to do, and decided to let him. Her inner tiger understood her plan, and she, too, stayed silent and watched.

Micah Griffin proved how much of an asshole he was by nearly breaking her neck in a chokehold. Clearly, the anger management classes hadn’t worked.

If she’d been human, there’s a good chance he’d have killed her.

Ronnie held her hand up — the signal to Henderson that she was fine and didn’t need rescuing. She made sure Griffin held her for a count of three, to be sure Henderson’s bodycam got a shot clear enough to grab a still shot, and then it was time to move.

She elbowed his ribs, flipped him up and over, and he should’ve landed on his back, but the bastard twisted in mid-air, landed on his feet, and punched her square in the face.

Again, she saw it coming, but with the video rolling it was important she was human-slow.

His huge fist struck her jaw and cheek all at once.

He rang her bell, but not her inner tiger’s.

Ronnie punched him hard enough the bastard took four steps back to keep from falling, a priceless look of surprised shock on his face.

While he was off balance, Ronnie swept his legs, rode him to the ground so he landed on his stomach, and finally cuffed him.

She stood and faced Henderson. “Subject is neutralized.”

“I see that.” His look clearly told her he had more to say, but would wait until the cameras weren’t recording to do so. He looked down. “Sir? Mr. Griffin? Deputy Myers and I are going to help you stand.”

Myers had stepped in when the commotion started, and Ronnie turned away while they helped Griffin up. A few deep breaths and she had her adrenaline response under control. When she turned back to them, they had him standing, and his gaze slammed into hers.

Didn’t matter, he was her prisoner now — he’d just given her a reason for his initial arrest.

“Micah Griffin, you’re under arrest for assaulting a police officer. You have the right to remain silent…”