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“I don’t feel like he’s our killer though,” Jackson said, his voice sounding far away even though he was standing beside Mitch. “Call it gut instinct, but he just doesn’t seem to be sharp enough—organized enough.”
Mitch hated to admit it, but he agreed. If Thomas Laube was involved, he was the accomplice, not the killer.
But, there was still another suspect, one they knew very little about.
Brandon Ross.
He was from the correct region, was fit and healthy enough, and he’d had contact with at least one victim.
“Which hospital did Lana Seacombe work at?” Mitch asked, picking up her file from the table.
“Barnes-Jewish Hospital, I think,” Jackson said. He shrugged when Mitch looked at him. “My aunt works there, so I remembered the name.”
Mitch stalled a moment as a wild thought occurred to him, but he ruled it out immediately. He trusted Jackson—he’d mentored him from a young cadet. There was no way...
“I know what you’re thinking,” Jackson said, not even offended. “I’m not the killer. I haven’t been to St. Louis since I was about five, and if you really want to check, remember I was on duty at the station the night Camilla was attacked. You can confirm it via the surveillance system footage.”
Mitch gave him an understanding smile. “Thanks for clearing that up,” he said, attempting a joke to lighten the mood.
Jackson scoffed. “I think we should go to St. Louis and ask a few questions. If there were other students there with her, they might’ve picked up on something. Maybe even a supervisor... we don’t know how well they were questioned when she went missing, or if they even were. Given the lack of leads we’ve got to go on, I think it’s worth a shot,” he said, although the tone of his voice indicated it was also a question.
“Agreed,” Mitch said. “What are your plans for tonight?”
“I had a date I was looking forward to, but I’ll cancel it for you,” he said with a grin.
Mitch chuckled. “I thought you were dating Gabrielle—the accountant’s daughter.”
Jackson grinned. “I was, but it didn’t work out. When do you want to leave?”
“As soon as possible. I need half an hour with Graham. I want to ask him about his wife and see his reaction. Let’s make sure he’s not being blackmailed,” Mitch said before heading toward the cells.
He spoke to the officer at the door. “Will you please bring Graham Laube into Interrogation Room One?” he asked. He didn’t want to have this conversation anywhere near Thomas Laube.
“Of course,” the officer said before walking away.
Mitch went to the interrogation room and waited for Graham to arrive. When he walked in, cuffed and escorted by Mitch’s officer, he looked like he’d aged ten years in the past few days. A pang of guilt twisted in Mitch’s heart like barbed wire, but he suppressed it. This was his job and he was going to do it well.
“What’s this about?” Graham asked, sounding exhausted.
“Your wife,” Mitch said gently.
Graham rolled his eyes. “What has she done now?” he asked as he took a seat. “Does she want money?”
Mitch watched him carefully. If this was news to Graham, even if his wife had been unfaithful, he thought it would still crush the man.
“Graham, there were seven bodies found in the woods, bodies we think were killed in your shed. Ellen was one of them—the coroner concluded she died around the time she apparently left Redwater,” Mitch said.
The color drained from his face and he leaned forward, inhaling sharply, his jaw hanging open.
“What?” he asked, his voice barely a wheeze.
Mitch didn’t need a lie detector to realize Graham had had no idea.
“I’m sorry,” Mitch said, “I truly am. I need to know why you thought she’d run off with another man.”
His eyebrows creased together and he shook his head like he couldn’t comprehend what Mitch was asking. “She wrote a letter and left it on the kitchen bench. She said she was leaving and there was someone else. It was her handwriting, I know it was. She had these funnyi’s—a little stick with a big circle on top. She wrote the letter.”
“Do you still have it?” Mitch asked.
