The Venus Fix

Fifty-Eight

Noah Jordain and Mark Perez were in the interrogation room, questioning a Hispanic boy who was far too young to have been picked up on rape charges, though that’s why he was there.

“So, who were you there with, Juan?” Perez asked.

Neither detective thought this kid was the one they wanted, but so far they couldn’t get Juan to crack.

“Nobody. I told you that already, man.”

“Hey!” Perez shouted. “No attitude. It doesn’t matter if you told us twenty times. You tell us again. You understand?”

Butler opened the door and stuck her head in. Jordain looked over. “I need you both for a few minutes,” she said.

Jordain got down on his knees in front of the kid. Where Perez had been tough, he was almost gentle. “Listen, Juan, you’re only twelve. If you tell us what really happened last night and the name of the friend you’re protecting, you won’t get into trouble. But if you don’t, you’re going to grow up in jail.” His voice got cold as ice now. “And when it comes to girls? Hell, you won’t see one for years. Think about that for a while. By yourself.”

The two detectives walked out of the room. Butler was waiting for them.

“What have you got?”

“Better to show you than tell you,” she said, and led them down the hall.

“Tease,” quipped Perez.

Butler didn’t take the bait. She didn’t turn around. She just kept walking.

“Have you got something on the Web-cam case?” Jordain asked.

“Maybe.”

He was frustrated that they still were nowhere. Sure they suspected Leightman, but they still didn’t have enough evidence to arrest him. They all knew they couldn’t hang a case on the e-mail. It was too easy. It had to be a setup. If the judge was going to ask the girls via e-mail to use poisoned lubricants, massage oils and Band-Aids, would he use an e-mail address so easily traceable? Okay. So who was setting him up? Why wasn’t he screaming bloody murder and pointing fingers? Was it blackmail? Skeletons in his closet? How were they going to find out?

Butler watched their faces when she opened the door.

“I’m willing to tell you what you want to know, who killed those three women,” Leightman said once everyone was seated. “But I need your word of honor that you won’t ask me to explain anything or discuss any details with you now.”

“We don’t bargain for information,” Jordain said.

“Bullshit, Detective. You bargain all the time. I’ll tell you what I have to tell you. And then I’ll just shut up. Like it or not. My lawyer will handle the rest.”

Jordain hated games. “You’re here. We didn’t call you. Talk or don’t talk.”

“I’m turning myself in voluntarily. I’m responsible for all three deaths. That’s all I have to say until my lawyer gets here.”