Family Honor (21 page)

She seemed genuinely shocked at the outpouring, which amused Nate. He
didn't
think she realized yet the scope of what she'd accomplished. If he was a betting man,
he'd
wager a promotion was in her future.

Reeder pushed his way through the crowd which effectively sent everyone back to their desks. "Well done." He pumped Nate's hand up and down, then
Mel's
. "Stone says there's a shitload of evidence."

Nate smiled.
Stone
didn't
say that
. Such terminology was the brainchild of Reeder and Reeder alone. He nodded. "The evidence is all there. The place is a Petri dish. CSI should be able to collect a load of DNA samples."

"They did a Luminol test first thing. According to Stone, the whole damn room glowed."

There'd
been blood everywhere
. Nate and Mel made disgusted faces at each other.

"Suddenly I want to go wash my hands," she said.

"Right there with you," Nate agreed.

"Good work you two. Willis, let me know before you take off.
It's
been an experience working with you. I told your chief you did a damn fine job." He looked at Mel. "Now the real fun begins for you.
Processing evidence and paperwork."

"Can't wait.
Excuse me." She turned around as Reeder walked off. "I was serious about washing my hands."

"Following you," Nate assured her. They walked past the war room, where an officer was already taking down the victim's pictures from the bulletin board.

"It's really over, isn't it?" Mel murmured.

"Yep.
Thank God."

She stopped and faced him. "And you're really leaving, aren't you?"

Nate's heart lurched. "Mel…." He
didn't
know what to say.

"I promised myself I wouldn't do this here. I
don't
want a room full of people to see me cry.
We'll
talk later. I can't guarantee I won't cry then, though."

He smiled. "Nor would I expect you to. Before you go getting all maudlin, give me a chance to see if I can turn that frown upside down."

"You didn't really just say that." She pushed open the door to the ladies' room.

"Told you I'm no songwriter."
He walked past and washed his hands in the men's room. Recalling the disturbing sights at Webb's house, he took an extra moment to wash them again. He met Mel in the bullpen.

"Webb's downstairs," she said, grabbing the folder with victim's pictures in it.
"No lawyer yet."

"Let's go." They hurried down to the interrogation area and were met by the captain in charge.

"Captain Gray, this is SSA Nathan Willis of the FBI," Mel introduced.

The men shook hands. "Has he asked for an attorney?" Nate inquired.

"Nope.
He's
only had one request. I guess I should call it a demand." The captain looked at Mel.
"Says he'll only talk to you."

"No way."
Nate shook his head firmly. "I'm going in."

Mel turned to him. "I can do this. You trusted me before. Trust me again."

"It's not a matter of trust. Guys like this are psychotic. Reality means nothing to him. All he wants is to get inside your head. And I don't want him there."

She stood her ground. "You may not have a choice. If
he'll
only talk to me, then I should do it. We need to get him to admit to at least one of the murders, right? More would be better of course."

"Mel…." Nate frowned, his resistance already wavering. She had an extremely persuasive way about her. "I don't like this one bit."

"Objection duly noted." She removed her Glock and handed it to him. They watched Webb for a moment through the two-way mirror.

"Stay on this side of the table," Gray said.

"Yes, Captain." Mel flashed one more glance at Nate and left the room.

His heart rate increased tenfold when he saw her walk in with Webb. He tried to calm his breathing but it
wasn't
easy, and took a lot of effort. His ears perked up when Webb spoke.

"You came!" The man smiled at Mel.

"Yeah, I'm here Dick. I understand you wanted to talk to me."

"Call me Dickie. My mother always called me Dickie."

"And look what happened to her."

Nate drew a breath. "Not sure flippant is the approach we want to take with him," he murmured.

"She's a smart cookie," Gray answered. "Let's see what she has up her sleeve."

No emotion whatsoever registered on Webb's face. "You look like her. Pretty long blonde hair. My mom always wore it down. Will you take your hair down for me?"

"Don't do it." Nate gritted his teeth.

Mel inhaled then expelled the breath, shaking her head. "I don't think so Dick. I mean, what have you done for me? You killed four women, and poor Sheila—"

"I didn't hurt Sheila," he interrupted. "She's a hooker. I paid her for the night. Ask her if I hurt her.
She'll
tell you. We were playing a game."

"Those games didn't end well for the others, though, did they?" Mel removed pictures from her folder one at a time and laid them on the table. "What about Donna Leonard? She looked pretty rough when they found her."

His eyes registered interest for a second, then nothing. "I don't know her." His face was once again an emotionless mask.

She spread out the other photos. "Rhonda Jensen?
Linda Mains?
Sissy Warsaw?"

Webb's gaze flickered from the pictures back to her, and he simply stared.

"What was the significance of the cheerleader uniforms? Did you date a cheerleader in high school? Did the relationship not end well?"

"My mom was a cheerleader." He smiled. "I saw her yearbook pictures. Sometimes she wore her hair in pigtails. Do you ever wear pigtails?"

"Not exactly my style. So Dick, we keep going back to your mom. You speak of her fondly. Why in the world did you want to kill her?"

His face registered confusion. "What do you mean?"

Mel leaned in and spoke clearly. "I mean, why did you take a knife and slice her throat? Was it because of the man she was
with
? Were you unhappy that she cheated on your dad?"

"I don't remember. Was that before I went in the hospital? Those doctors did things to my mind. I forgot lots of stuff."

"You don't remember slicing your mom's throat from ear to ear, and sitting in her blood until your dad came home?"

He smiled pleasantly, his face still blank.

She tapped the table near Sissy's picture. "Sissy Warsaw was the last victim. She was a waitress, not a hooker, did you know that? Did you meet her at Daily Joe?"

"Your eyes are pretty. Not the same color as my mom's, but still pretty. You should wear more makeup."

"You like makeup, Dick? Sissy wore a lot of it. Did you like that? Is that why you chose her?"

"My mom's breasts were bigger than yours, but otherwise you're about the same size."

"Son-of-a-bitch," Nate muttered.

Mel seemed to take it in stride. "Now that's kind of disturbing. Did you see your mother's breasts, Dick?"

He licked his lips.

Nate's jaw dropped.
"Holy Jesus, Mary and Joseph."
Realization dawned on him at the same time it must have struck Mel. He clenched his fists into tight balls.

"Oh my God!"
Mel leaned forward again. "Did you do things with her when she was naked?"

His face reddened. "She was
mine
. That guy shouldn't have been there."

"Oh, Dick," Mel's face fell. "That's so wrong. You were just a boy. Your mother should have never allowed that to happen."

"She was mine," he repeated fiercely.

"Did your dad know? I can't believe he would have—"

"Daddy mustn't know!"
he shouted.

Nate jumped. He cleared his throat. He would have been embarrassed except both Mel and Gray jumped too.

Webb was shackled to the chair at his hands and feet, and the chair was bolted to the concrete floor. He still managed to rock back and forth. "Daddy mustn't know! Daddy mustn't know!"

"Dick." Mel tried to calm him. "Stop it. You'll hurt yourself."

Tears streamed down his face. "I never told him, Mama. I swear I never told him. Hold me, Mama. Please hold me."

Nate sensed Mel's pain. Child abuse was horrendous enough, but when the child's own mother was the perpetrator, it was nearly too much to bear. He
didn't
blame Mel for having a soft heart. But the damage to Dick Webb was done. He needed serious professional help, and there was nothing they could do for him except see that
he'd
never be free to hurt anyone again.

He also needed a doctor. Blood oozed through the bandage on the man's arm.

"This is over." Nate went to next room and opened the door. "Let's go." He motioned to Mel.

"I'm not finished," she protested.

A voice from behind replied, "Yes, you are."

Nate turned to see Burton Webb and a man in an expensive blue suit who had to be a lawyer. They stood next to Captain Gray. The attorney spoke. "Mr. Webb has no further comment."

* * * *

Nate paced in front of Mel's desk. "He admitted nothing."

Mel folded her arms across her chest. "He made one startling admission."

He paused to look at her. "I know. That was bad. It actually does wrap up a few loose ends. Trish Burton had an inappropriate relationship with her teenaged son. She
didn't
know about his undiagnosed mental condition, and ended up dying because of it. He
wasn't
in the hospital long enough to heal.
He's
never gotten over it. Webb is killing his mother over and over again when he dresses these women in a cheerleader's uniform."

"But why
these
women?
The reports said Trish was in her thirties when she died. Why is Webb choosing fifty years olds to dress up and murder?"

Nate shook his head. "I don't know. That might be a question for the prosecutors to answer. It's in their hands now."

"I suppose." She rubbed her hands over her arms.

Nate sighed. Mel looked as tired as he felt. It was only one p.m., but
they'd
had a busy day. "Hungry? It's past lunch time."

She screwed up her face.
"Not at all."

Reeder approached and glanced at Nate.
"You still here?"

"Leaving soon," he said. He wanted to say
get off my ass
but never would.