Read Online Confess (The Blue Line Series Book 1) by Reagan Phillips - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Reagan Phillips
Tags: A Blue Line Series Novel
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the fifty-five years his police profile confessed, but Mitch recognized him right off.
He’d never forget the face of the man who’d sat with him in the department lobby thirteen years ago while his aunt and uncle heard the gory detail of their daughter’s final moments.
Andrews had been a detective then. His face had held the warmth of a caring man. His voice a comfort to a scared boy. He’d repeated everything was going to be okay so many times, Mitch had almost believed him.
The cold man staring him down now as if he couldn’t decided to shot him or kick him the hell out of his town wasn’t the same man.
Andrews surveyed Mitch for several long seconds, trying to place his face, but didn’t find enough of the boy he’d known to remember the connection they’d once shared.
Not that Mitch could blame him. After his father split, he’d taken on his mother’s name, and the innocent boy Andrews comforted during the horrible hours following Sadie’s death ceased to exist.
“So, you’re the ass-wipe detective horning in on my murder investigations.” His stare bore bullet holes in Mitch’s face.
“Investigation.” Mitch eased into the hard, wooden chair and stretched his legs out, sending Andrews an unmistakable air of confidence. “As in one. A young girl by the name of Shannon Corbin.”
The chief shook his head and removed his glasses. His dark eyes watered in anger, and his cheeks puffed. “Don’t presume to tell me my business, son. I went to school with that girl’s father. I was there when they dragged her body from her shallow grave.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Mitch put his hands on the chair rails and leaned forward. “But maybe your closeness to the case blinded you to the facts.”
Andrews slid his glasses back in place. His mouth bowed in a frown. “Son. I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”
Faking out his competition had become second nature by the time Bishop had gotten ahold of him in basic training. “I know exactly who I’m talking to, Sir. A chief with an unsolved murder on his hands who isn’t asking the right questions. Is the killer Wray? Why go dormant for thirteen years? Why change the MO from young girls to women? Why get sloppy after years in hiding? Wray didn’t kill this girl or the one you found two weeks ago.”
“Slow down, Detective. Let’s not start throwing around assumptions we can’t back up.” Red washed over the chief’s face.
Mitch smoothed a hand over his cleanly shaven cheek. It’d be so easy to pull the ace in the hole, the length of rope that had been overlooked at the crime scene, from his front pocket and demand the chief order forensics to take a look. The same length of rope that would cost him his job if he sent it to Nashville to investigate. “Back up, I can’t. Not now anyway, but it’s not an assumption. You’re looking for the wrong killer.”
“You better have a damn solid reason to suggest negligence on the part of my department.”
Mitch stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. He rubbed the smooth plastic evidence bag containing the length of rope from the scene. “Call it a gut instinct.”
The chief’s voice turned to gravel. “We don’t deal in gut instinct here, boy. You’d better remember that if you want to keep that shiny detective badge.”
“Then Nashville will just send another pain in the ass to investigate. The next one might not be so willing to let threats slide.”
“Since when is Nashville interested in what happens in Rebel Rapids?”
“Since the uncle of one of your victims is running for city council. Seems he doesn’t care for the accusations his darling niece was mixed in with the wrong crowd and ended up dead. A serial killer makes for a much more compelling story during an election year, don’t you think, Chief?”
“So, money talks.” Andrews leaned back in his chair, making the leather crackle under his considerable weight. “They sure didn’t give a damn
He’d never forget the face of the man who’d sat with him in the department lobby thirteen years ago while his aunt and uncle heard the gory detail of their daughter’s final moments.
Andrews had been a detective then. His face had held the warmth of a caring man. His voice a comfort to a scared boy. He’d repeated everything was going to be okay so many times, Mitch had almost believed him.
The cold man staring him down now as if he couldn’t decided to shot him or kick him the hell out of his town wasn’t the same man.
Andrews surveyed Mitch for several long seconds, trying to place his face, but didn’t find enough of the boy he’d known to remember the connection they’d once shared.
Not that Mitch could blame him. After his father split, he’d taken on his mother’s name, and the innocent boy Andrews comforted during the horrible hours following Sadie’s death ceased to exist.
“So, you’re the ass-wipe detective horning in on my murder investigations.” His stare bore bullet holes in Mitch’s face.
“Investigation.” Mitch eased into the hard, wooden chair and stretched his legs out, sending Andrews an unmistakable air of confidence. “As in one. A young girl by the name of Shannon Corbin.”
The chief shook his head and removed his glasses. His dark eyes watered in anger, and his cheeks puffed. “Don’t presume to tell me my business, son. I went to school with that girl’s father. I was there when they dragged her body from her shallow grave.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Mitch put his hands on the chair rails and leaned forward. “But maybe your closeness to the case blinded you to the facts.”
Andrews slid his glasses back in place. His mouth bowed in a frown. “Son. I think you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.”
Faking out his competition had become second nature by the time Bishop had gotten ahold of him in basic training. “I know exactly who I’m talking to, Sir. A chief with an unsolved murder on his hands who isn’t asking the right questions. Is the killer Wray? Why go dormant for thirteen years? Why change the MO from young girls to women? Why get sloppy after years in hiding? Wray didn’t kill this girl or the one you found two weeks ago.”
“Slow down, Detective. Let’s not start throwing around assumptions we can’t back up.” Red washed over the chief’s face.
Mitch smoothed a hand over his cleanly shaven cheek. It’d be so easy to pull the ace in the hole, the length of rope that had been overlooked at the crime scene, from his front pocket and demand the chief order forensics to take a look. The same length of rope that would cost him his job if he sent it to Nashville to investigate. “Back up, I can’t. Not now anyway, but it’s not an assumption. You’re looking for the wrong killer.”
“You better have a damn solid reason to suggest negligence on the part of my department.”
Mitch stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. He rubbed the smooth plastic evidence bag containing the length of rope from the scene. “Call it a gut instinct.”
The chief’s voice turned to gravel. “We don’t deal in gut instinct here, boy. You’d better remember that if you want to keep that shiny detective badge.”
“Then Nashville will just send another pain in the ass to investigate. The next one might not be so willing to let threats slide.”
“Since when is Nashville interested in what happens in Rebel Rapids?”
“Since the uncle of one of your victims is running for city council. Seems he doesn’t care for the accusations his darling niece was mixed in with the wrong crowd and ended up dead. A serial killer makes for a much more compelling story during an election year, don’t you think, Chief?”
“So, money talks.” Andrews leaned back in his chair, making the leather crackle under his considerable weight. “They sure didn’t give a damn
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