Double Faced Twins

Chapter 27

Detective Sam Kidwell

It's late afternoon, and I don't return to my office after Miss Henson and Mr. Easton leave. Instead, I lay out Miss Henson's case across the meeting room table.

I take out my notepad and write on the top Things I Know and Things That Need Investigating. I did this as a child when I played detective, and I found through the years that it keeps my thoughts organized and focused.

Things I Know: Ex Jeremy Miller cleared; asshole journalist, Lance Crawford, cleared; identified lying bastard Henson Walker (primary suspect); Miss Henson, last seen by her assistant, Liza Graham, around 9:30 a.m.; a woman abducted Miss Henson from her home around midnight by putting her into a sizeable black suitcase.

Things That Need Investigating: Henson Walker - find out who his associates are, especially women, continue surveillance of him, call him in for another interview; Vehicle information of abductor - video forensic team in the process of scrutinizing video. Woman's identity- schedule a press release once the video forensic team reviews the footage, and we have a sharper image to give to the media.

I analyze my list. The only thing on my list that I control is the interrogation of Henson Walker. I cannot do anything with the vehicle or woman until the video forensic team returns the video with their forensic analysis.

After making my list, I clean up and put everything back into the case file. I return to my office and pick up my phone to dial Henson Walker's number.

Walker answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Walker?"

"Yes."

"This is Detective Kidwell. I know that we talked briefly over the phone earlier, but I was hoping you could come down to the station to make an official statement. I need to know a time that you can meet with me," I explain.

"Is tomorrow around 10:00 in the morning okay?" he asks.

"That would be great," I reply.

We said goodbye, and I checked in on the surveillance team, which informed me that Walker had not left his home since they began their surveillance. I catch up on some paperwork before leaving for the day.

***

I'm getting my notes together for my meeting with Henson Walker. He should be here any moment. I'm not sure what my tactic is going to be. I'm not one to come on hard with a suspect. I like to build a rapport with them and ambush them when they least expect it.

The front desk officer informs me that Mr. Walker is in interrogation room three. I enter with my notepad, tape recorder, and coffee. The front desk officer comes in behind me with a coffee for Walker.

We get settled, and I begin. "First of all, thank you for coming to speak with me. I have a few questions that need answers. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," he replies after taking a sip of his coffee. He's acting like he doesn't have a care in the world.

I'm a little taken aback by his composure. "Can you please tell me why you used the name Travis Johns to get an internship with Double Faced Advertising?"

He grins. "Well, I couldn't just walk in and tell them that their dad fucked my mom and inconvenient me happened."

Well, shit "Why did you go in at all?"

He shrugs. "Mostly because I was curious, but after meeting them and working with them, I got pissed."

"So what exactly pissed you off?" I inquire.

"I had just found out who my dad was when I turned twenty-one. For the last two years, I've been trying to get more information from my mom about him. I finally wore her down. She was sworn to secrecy by my dad. In turn, he gave her plenty of money to raise me in an affluent neighborhood with the best of everything life had to offer. Unfortunately, the one thing he never gave me was him. By the time that I found out about him, he had already passed. The next best thing was getting to know my siblings. I opted to get to know my sisters first since they were close to my age. The more I got to know them, the more pissed I got at my mom for hiding my family from me," he sadly explains.

"So you never hated Faith and Grace?" I asked.

He raised his eyebrows, surprised by my question. "What? No, never. I guess I came on a little strong trying to get information on my family."

"Why didn't you tell Grace you were her brother when she let you go?" I questioned.

His brows furl. "I wish that I would have. Grace was just off that day."

I lean forward. "What do you mean off?"

"I called her out of a meeting for a client call she had been waiting on. I stopped in to see if she needed anything after her call. She had an envelope in her hand and looked pale and upset. I told her if she needed anything at all, I was there for her. You know, like a brother. I guess she took it the wrong way, and she told me that she didn't think that it was a good idea for me to keep working there. She left, and I left after I got my things from my desk. I wish I had the nerve to tell her and Faith who I was." He looks down.

I continue my questioning. "So tell me if I am wrong, the times that you inquired about their family was not to make the women uncomfortable; you just were looking to get to know that side of your family?"

"Yes. It was. I see now how creepy that must have been," he admits.

I ask my next question, "They felt that you looked at them with what they explained as hatred. How do you explain that?"

His face drops. "If I had a look of hatred, it was towards my father and mother, who took from me the opportunity to know my family, my brother and sisters. It was never towards them. Ever."

"Have you tried to talk to your brother, Thomas?" I challenge.

"No, my sisters were closer to my age. I thought that if I could get to know them, they would help me get to know my brother. Listen, I appreciate you grilling me, but I would never hurt my sister. The only thing I ever wanted from the Henson's was to be the family that was stolen from all of us by our parents," he discloses. "Whatever you need from me, ask. I'll take a lie detector test. I'll do anything so that you can stop wasting your time on me and find my sister."

I don't even hesitate. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"What?" he asks incredulously.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask.

"Why do you care if I have a girlfriend?" he demands.

"Just answer the question, please." I retort.

"I do. Why?"

*****