Evan sat back and flipped through the file, pretending to look for something as he dissected what Jerry had said.
Would Detective Durette have planted evidence of the three dead women to make sure this guy ended up in prison?
He remembered Durette’s tone as he talked about Jerry torturing the children. Anger. Rage. Disgust.
Would he have done it to make this guy pay?
“I was convicted on planted evidence,” Jerry said. “If our justice system wasn’t corrupt, I’d be free like I should be. I didn’t kill those women.”
Evan changed topics. “Why not tell them where Malcolm Wolff was buried?”
“Can’t remember,” he said shortly.
“Or maybe he was buried with other victims you didn’t want found?”
Jerry’s face was blank, but confusion flickered in his eyes for the briefest second.
“Are you saying you have more deaths you want to pin on me?” His tone was incredulous.
“Yes.” Evan wouldn’t bring up details of the current deaths. He didn’t trust that Jerry hadn’t heard about them—he could have lied about not following news in Bend—and Evan didn’t want to tackle it yet with the wily murderer. “Since you’re already in prison, maybe you should just tell me about them. Or tell me who helped you back then.”
“Helped me what?”
“Capture and kill young women.” Evan paused. “How long would you keep them alive before killing them?”
“I didn’t kill anyone!”
“Except Malcolm Wolff. You couldn’t lead investigators to his grave . . . maybe you could describe the location?”
“There were trees.”
“Anything else?”
“Rocks.”
“Was it flat or hilly?”
“Flat. Why would I dig a grave on a slope?”
“Do you remember anything else nearby? Water? Clearings?”
“No water, no clearings.”
“Remind me how you killed him again?”
“It was an accident. He hit his head.” Jerry leaned to one side, trying to catch the eye of the guard. “We’re done.”
By the frustration on Jerry’s face and the silence at the door, Evan gathered the guard was ignoring him.
“Then who set you up, Jerry? The police don’t have a strong motivation to do that. It must have been someone else. Who hated you enough to do it?”
“You’re talking in fucking circles.” He banged his chains on the table. “Guard!”
“Is it Malcolm Wolff we found buried next to two other young women?”
Confusion flickered again. “You can’t tell if it’s him?”
“Not yet. What are the names of the young women?”
Jerry just stared at him.
“These two women were buried close to where Carissa Trotter’s body was found twenty-five years ago,” Evan continued. “I find it hard to believe that two separate killers would leave bodies in the same area. It’s only logical that they were killed by the same person.”
Jerry pressed his lips together, making them vanish behind his white beard and mustache. “Then you better figure out who their killer was. Because it wasn’t me.”
I could have handled that better.
Evan sat in his vehicle in the penitentiary parking lot. He’d thrown heavy questions at Jerry, and the killer had shut down a little more with each one. Too much too fast.
He is a convincing liar.
His answers about Malcolm’s grave weren’t helpful.
Was it possible Jerry hadn’t killed the three women twenty-five years ago?
But he had kidnapped Rowan and Malcolm. And their babysitter, who’d been with them, had turned up dead. It only made sense that Jerry had killed her.
If Evan had been in Jerry’s shoes, trying to avoid three false murder charges, he’d point fingers at everyone. Make his attorney dig to figure out who had set him up. He’d do a lot more than push a weak claim that it had been the police.
He didn’t fight hard because he knew he did it.
He assumed Jerry must have killed the two women whose skeletal remains had been found next to the child’s bones. It only made sense considering the location of Carissa Trotter.
Don’t assume. Ass. U. Me.
But Jerry had seemed legitimately surprised when Evan brought them up. In his gut, Evan felt the guy hadn’t been faking it.
I’m missing something.
Evan wished Noelle had come to the interview. She’d pull his brain out of this rut. But today she was working on Ken’s SUV and interviewing more of his personal circle.