Making Contact

Chapter Six

Captain Robinson opened the door just in time to catch the sight of Evrin stomping off down the hall. “Detective,” Robinson called after her, stepping out of the room. “Detective! Where do you think you're going?” Robinson yelled. Argyle lightly touched the Captain's arm. Robinson jumped, jerking his arm away, bumping into the wall, crying out, “Jesus!”

“Sorry, I should have said something first, I sometimes forget how quiet I can be,” Argyle said. He looked down the hall after Detective Evrin. “Go easy on her. Maybe give her some time to collect herself.”

“She just lost her cool in middle of an interrogation,” Robinson straightened out the collar of his ragged brown coat. The little gesture didn't make him seem any more composed. The frazzled look in his eyes was a dead tell. “It’s bad enough to do it all all, but right on the other side of the wall while I'm watching? And with a Federal Agent looking in?” Robinson shook his head. “That's just fucked up. And I don't care how guilty or crazy that cultist in there might be, those photographs we found under her bed might show evidence of stalking, but we can't do anything with that. For you and I that might be enough, but it's not enough for us to convict her of murder. It doesn't help that the pics are just of the people that have already turned up, and just keeping her here for the next six hours to wait and see if someone in my city dies or not doesn't sit right with me. I wouldn't put it past that cultist to file a suit against us if she is innocent, and you know sure as hell that she won't be saying much after that.”

“On the contrary, the existence of hell is not a sure thing at all, Captain.” Argyle smiled, then raised his hand to stop the Captain from saying whatever words he opened his mouth to contend the point. “Yes, I know it's only a manner of speech, but the fact still remains. Just as hell is not a sure thing, we cannot know for certain whether or not the woman is our killer, or has some sort of association with the person we are looking for. However, that aside, my facial analysis while Detective Evrin was examining her indicated that the woman was lying.”

“Lying? About not knowing the victims?”

“That, as well as her legs. If we were playing a strategy game, which in a way we are, hunting down serial killers is but a game of cat and mouse after all, I'd bargain that we won't be finding the VIN on those legs. If I was the killer though, I would have foreseen all of the steps that we have taken thus far. I would also take advantage of it, and plant distractions along the way.”

“What you're trying to say is that this friend or whatever that gave her the legs…”

“They could be our serial killer. Or at least another link in the chain.”

“That's an interesting theory…” Robinson scratched at the scruff on his neck, under his chin, then nodded. “Alright, alright. I'll deal with Evrin later. Get in there and show me what you can do.”

“Roger that.” Argyle saluted the Captain, then went for the door into the interrogation room. As he pulled the door shut behind him, he could hear Robinson mutter, “weird…”