First to Die

Chapter 86

I RODE UP TO JENKS'S HOUSE with Chris Raleigh. We barely spoke, both of us brimming with anticipation. Outside, we were met by Charlie Clapper and his CSU team. They would grid-search the house and grounds as soon as we tookjenksin. We rang the bell. Each second I waited, my heart pounded harder. Every reason I became a cop was grinding in my chest. This was it. The door opened, and the same housekeeper answered. This time, her eyes went wide as she took in the convergence of blue-and-whites outside. I flashed my badge. "We need to see Mr. Jenks." We made our way back toward the sitting room where we had met Jenks only the day before. A startled Chessy Jenks met us in the hall "Inspector," she gasped, recognizing me. "What's going on? What are all those police cars doing out front?" "I'm sorry," I said, meeting her eyes. I was sorry for her. "Is your husband at home?" "Nick!" she cried, realizing in a panic why we had come. Then she ran along with us, trying to block me, shouting, "You can't just come in here like this. This is our home." "Please, Mrs. Jenks," Raleigh implored. I was too wound up to stop. I wanted Nicholas Jenks so bad it hurt. A second later he appeared, coming in from the back lawn overlooking the Pacific. He was holding a golf club. "I thought I told you," he said, looking perfectly unruffled in his white shirt and linen shorts, "the next time you need something from me you should contact my lawyer." "You can tell him yourself," I said. My heart was racing. "Nicholas Jenks, you are under arrest for the murders of David and Melanie Brandt, Michael and Rebecca De George James and Kathleen Voskuhl." I wanted him to hear every name, to bring to mind every one of them he'd killed. I wanted to see the callous indifference crack in his eyes. "This is insane." Jenks glared at me. His gray eyes burned with intensity. "Nick?" cried his wife. "What are they talking about? Why are they here in our house?" "Do you know what you're doing?" he asked, the veins bulging on his neck. "I asked you, do you have any idea what you're doing?" I didn't answer, just recited the Miranda warning. "What you're doing," he raged, "is engaging in the biggest mistake of your little life." "What are they saying?" His wife was pale. "Nick, please tell me. What is going on?" "Shut up," Jenks spat out at her. Suddenly, he spun back toward me with a vicious fire in his eyes. He lunged forward with his fist. He swung at me. I cut his feet out from under him. Jenks fell across an end table to the floor, photos falling everywhere, glass shattering. The writer moaned loudly in pain. Chessy Jenks screamed, stood there in a paralyzed state. Chris Raleigh cuffed her husband and dragged him to his feet. "Call Sherman," Jenks shouted at his wife. "Tell him where I am, what's happened." Raleigh and I pushed Jenks out to our car. He continued to struggle, and I saw no reason to be gentle. ' "What's your theory on the murders now?" I asked him.