by T. L. Haddix
“Keep the focus of your questioning on his crimes, or his experiment. Stay away from subjects that seem to make him uncomfortable, like his past. That includes both his professional and personal lives. This guy went to a lot of trouble to present a very specific picture to the world of who he is.”
“So do you think he’s hiding something from that past, or just ashamed of it?” Russell asked.
Gordon shrugged as he considered the question. “Probably both.”
“I want to know just how proficient he is with firearms. He had some high-priced, top-of-the-line sniper equipment, both in the van and at his house. Does he have a law enforcement or military background that isn’t listed here?” Stacy asked, tapping on the file.
“Nothing we’ve been able to pin down. We’re still looking into his family history, though.”
“So how do we broach the subject with him?”
“Very carefully. I’d advise you to stick to his recent activities until you’ve gotten quite a bit of information, including victims’ names, total body count, that sort of thing.” Gordon leaned forward. “If you spook him or make him angry by discussing the past, he could shut down completely. Until we know just how many people he’s killed, we’d like to keep him talking. Once you’ve established a rapport with him, he might be more amenable to answering the harder questions.”
Detective DeHart sat back in his chair, a speculative look in his eyes. His tone was just a bit confrontational when he spoke. “I have a question before we go in there and start talking to this guy. What qualifications do you have, Special Agent, to be advising us on this interview? Are you one of those profilers or something?”
Gordon sent him a measured look, slowly sitting back in his own chair to mimic the detective’s position. The move had Stacy hiding a smile. “No, I’m not a profiler. However, I’ve made a point of learning more about the behaviors of murderers and serial offenders to increase my knowledge, and I’ve attended several seminars and lectures at Quantico regarding such. I have a bachelor’s in criminology, as well as a degree in criminal law, and I’ve been with the FBI for nearly six years now.”
Calmly, he waited for any other questions. Stacy exchanged a look with Wyatt, hoping DeHart would let the issue go without having to be called down. They had too much important work to accomplish to indulge the state trooper’s posturing. Just as it was looking like the stare down between the two men was going to go into something more, the detective looked away and cleared his throat. They all waited for a moment to see if he would speak. When he didn’t, Wyatt spoke up.
“I think we’re ready to start the interview.” He reached for the phone and dialed the extension for the jail, telling the person on the other end they were ready for Ormsby. “They’ll be bringing him down shortly. We have a few minutes if there’s anything else we need to go over,” he said as he hung up.
DeHart stood. “I need to excuse myself for a bit. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He went down the hall, oblivious to the incredulous looks that followed him out the door. No one spoke for a minute.
Wyatt gave a low growl. “Agent Gordon, I apologize. Detective DeHart is actually a competent investigator, regardless of his behavior here today. I don’t know why he’s acting like this.”
Gordon stood up and stretched. He went to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup, offering to do the same for Wyatt and Stacy, who both declined. “Please, call me Gordon. And don’t worry too much about it, Sheriff. I don’t care how he treats me, as long as he does his job.” He walked over and looked at the boards. “Tell me about Ruby Sloane. How does she tie into all this?”
“We aren’t sure yet exactly how Ruby fits into the picture,” Stacy said, “but at the very least, it looks like she was supplying Ormsby with names of potential victims. She was definitely behind Beth’s stalking, though. We found a journal on her computer that detailed how she had been following Beth, and the things she had planned for her. There were also the digital files for all the photos she sent in that package.”
Gordon leaned up against the edge of the table, perplexed. “So why was she stalking Beth? It doesn’t fit with what Ormsby was doing, unless Ruby was interested in him and jealous of Beth. From what Beth has told me, the doctor was pretty relentless for a while in his pursuit of her.”
Wyatt’s face was full of regret as he explained. “See, that’s where we think Ethan comes into all this. During his interrogation, Ethan told us that Ruby had been coming on to him for a few months, but he’d been rejecting her. You aren’t from here so you don’t know, Gordon, but anyone in town with eyes and half a brain knows that Ethan and Beth have been dancing around each other for years. Hell, the only one that didn’t see it was Ethan. When all this happened with Ormsby, we figure Ruby saw her big chance to get back at Beth and she took it.”
“So Ruby was already involved with Ormsby, already helping him. That makes sense, I suppose,” Gordon agreed.
There was a quiet knock on the door, and they all turned to the deputy who stood there. “Sheriff, they’re ready for you in the interrogation room.”
Wyatt thanked him. “I’ll go find DeHart and let him know.” He walked out, leaving Gordon and Stacy to follow. As she stood, her hands trembled slightly, betraying her nerves.
Gordon saw the betraying tremor. “You’ll do fine in there, Detective. Whatever you do, don’t let Ormsby creep you out, and take care to hide your disgust from him.”
She met his gaze, calming as his quiet confidence reached out to her. “You’ll be watching?”
“I will.”
“Good.” She led him down the hall where he joined the sheriff in the observation room. She could see Detective DeHart through the mirror, already in the interrogation room with Ormsby.
“Good luck, Stacy.” Wyatt gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and she nodded.
“Thanks. Here goes nothing.”
~ * * * ~
Sitting down across the table from Chad Ormsby, Stacy felt a chill run up her spine and every hair on her body stood on end. She took very little comfort in the knowledge that the man was chained securely and couldn’t harm her physically. The doctor was a tall man, broad across the chest, and very fit. She had encountered him in Leroy a few times, had even questioned him earlier in the year after Charity Vaughn’s murder, and on those occasions she had been left with a somewhat unsettled feeling. Although she knew other women found him attractive, she was unable to see it herself.
Now, closed in with him in the interrogation room, that impression was reinforced. She thought that if she had been required to interview Ormsby on her own, even with his attorney in the room, she doubted she would have been able to. Thinking about the tips Gordon had given her, she managed to project a calm façade.
Thinking the doctor might respond better to a man, they had decided to let DeHart start the questioning. As he spoke, Stacy was relieved to find his methods were completely professional, no hint of his earlier antagonism showing. He spoke matter-of-factly, going over the rules for the session with Ormsby and his attorney.
“Dr. Ormsby, we have a lot of questions for you. We’d like to start with your victims. What can you tell us about them?”
The doctor leaned up, arms on the table with his hands clasped in front of him. He eyed the state trooper for a moment before turning to Stacy. “I think I’d prefer that Detective Kirchner asks the questions.” He gave her a thorough once-over before meeting her eyes with a challenging look.
Casually, as though she had all the time in the world, she sat back in her chair, not taking her gaze off his. She tapped her pen on the legal pad she held in her lap as she pretended to consider his words.
“If I ask the questions, will you answer them truthfully?”
Ormsby sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. He nodded once.
“Okay, then. What can you tell us about your victims? Let’s start with how many there were.”
“Are you interested in the ones from Le
roy, or do you want to know about the ones before that?” he countered.
Stacy raised an eyebrow. “How many since you’ve been in Leroy?”
“Eight.”
“And before you came here? How many victims?”
He winced at her use of the word victims. “Why don’t we call them subjects? I like that term so much better than ‘victim.’ After all, they did sacrifice their lives in the name of science.” He stopped, rubbing his chin and staring at the ceiling for a moment. “There were six in Kansas, and a couple between here and there. Eight in total, not counting the subjects here in Olman County. Would you like their names?” Stacy nodded, and he listed them. One name was notably absent, that of Amy Hamilton, who had disappeared in mid-July. She asked him about the missing woman.
Ormsby shrugged. “No, I don’t know anything about this woman. She wasn’t one of mine.”
DeHart opened up a file, pulled a picture of Amy Hamilton out, and pushed it across the table toward the doctor. Ormsby picked it up and examined it critically. “This woman, she was addicted to what? Alcohol?” He directed his question to Stacy.
“That’s right. Alcohol and prescription sleeping pills, Xanax, Valium, and the like.”
He shook his head. “I never would have picked her as a test subject. Her cardiovascular system couldn’t handle my experiments, you see. Not if she was using downers.” He explained how the experimental drug worked. When he was finished, he asked for a bathroom break.
Stacy turned off the camera, and she and DeHart waited until after Ormsby had left the room, escorted by two deputies and his attorney, before they spoke.
DeHart was confused. “If he didn’t kill Amy Hamilton, then where is she?” DeHart asked as they joined Gordon and Wyatt in the observation room.
Stacy was surprised by the look on Gordon’s face. “You know something.”
Gordon sighed and closed the door so that they couldn’t be overheard. “There have been a string of disappearances across the Midwest over the past several years that the Bureau feels is connected. When Ormsby’s activity came to light, we had hoped he would turn out to be the person responsible, but it looks like he may not be. I’ll give you the information about those other victims and have you ask him about them. But if he doesn’t know anything about them, well…”
“It’s possible he was lying,” the state trooper said. His tone was subdued. “Isn’t it?”
“I don’t think he was,” Wyatt said. “He seemed bemused by her picture, disinterested. If what he’s saying about the drugs she used is true, he wouldn’t have picked her in the first place.”
The tension in the room ratcheted up higher more than it had been. Wyatt was the first one to put what they were all thinking into words. He turned to Gordon. “So let me get this straight. What you’re saying is that we have another serial killer on our hands?”
Face grim, Gordon nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Sheriff.”
Chapter Thirty Eight
By late Thursday afternoon, Beth was truly ready to make a break from the hospital. She was healing well and feeling much better, and while she understood her doctors’ concerns, knowing the logic didn’t help her restlessness. Added to that, the fluctuation in her hormones after the removal of her ovary and the emotional trauma she had undergone from the kidnapping and shooting were starting to take their toll. She had never had a true panic attack in her life, but she could feel herself getting closer and closer to one.
Her mood was swinging from apathetic to tearful to angry, and it was taking everything in her to maintain her calm. Visitors had been in and out all day, including Lauren and Annie, who had driven down that morning and spent most of the day with her. Seeing them had helped, but her friends had left a short time earlier to drive home, and Beth’s anxiety was returning.
As she watched the darkness fall outside the hospital, she found herself biting her nails, something she hadn’t done since she was a young girl. Disgusted, she folded her arms and tucked her hands underneath them. Standing at the window, she watched the busy city below, wishing she could be out there instead of stuck inside. A quiet tap on her door had her turning with relief. Chase had called earlier and told her he was on his way, and she fully intended to plead her case with him. Expecting her brother, she hurried toward the door as it opened.
“You’ve got to get me out of here,” she said as her visitor stepped inside the room. “I’m going stir crazy.” As she saw who it was, she stopped, her body frozen as her heart raced. Her visitor wasn’t Chase. It was Ethan.
~ * * * ~
Ethan had debated long and hard whether or not to make the drive to Louisville. He knew there would be trouble if he ran into any of Beth’s family, but he had to see her for himself, make sure she was okay. He had second-guessed himself the entire trip, and now, as he stood outside the door to her hospital room, he was starting to attract concerned glances. Finally, cursing himself for being a coward, he took a deep breath and knocked, then reached down to open the door.
As he stepped inside the room, he heard Beth’s words and was surprised to hear her sounding so strong. She didn’t look strong, though. The very sight of her devastated Ethan. Her skin pale, she had lost weight since he’d seen her last. Her glorious hair was gone, and there were fading bruises on her face and arms. It was obvious that she had endured serious trauma, and guilt pressed firmly down on his shoulders once again.
“May I come in?” he asked.
Head held high, she turned without answering. She picked up a stuffed bear and walked to stand at the window, staring out across the city. Taking her non-response as an answer, Ethan moved into the room and pushed the door around behind him. He stopped at the edge of the hospital bed, hands clenched by his sides, and cleared his throat.
“How are you?”
Her shoulders stiffened when he spoke, but she turned to face him, holding the bear like a shield. She moved to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear but the hair she’d had for so long was gone. The movement was a habit so intrinsically Beth, he felt a pang in his chest, especially seeing her close-cropped hair. He followed the movement with his eyes, then met her gaze. It was all he could do to not look away from the strong anger and hurt he saw there.
“I wondered if you’d find the time to come by. See the invalid.”
After an awkward silence, he stepped a little closer to her. “I don’t know what to say. Somehow ‘I’m sorry’ just isn’t adequate. I am sorry, though.”
Beth tilted her head. “What exactly are you sorry about, Ethan? Sorry that I was kidnapped by your girlfriend? Sorry I got shot? Sorry I lived?”
He felt himself flinch. “I guess I deserve that. Beth, I messed up. I know that. I’ve made some pretty stupid decisions lately, and you’re paying for them. I just - I needed to see you, make sure you… I don’t know. I just needed to see you.”
The anger was still there, but she finally gave a stiff incline of her head, accepting his words. “I understand.” She sighed and sat down in the recliner. “I can’t give you absolution, not now. Maybe not ever. Do you understand that?”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah, I do. And I’m not asking for it.” He leaned up against the end of her bed and studied his feet. “I’m taking a leave from the department.” He felt her surprise and looked up with a bitter smile. “I need to do some soul-searching, figure out how to clean up this mess I’ve made. Not just with you, but with my whole life in general. I’ve been drinking too much, and I have to take care of that first. I just wanted to tell you, let you know that I’m aware of how badly I screwed up. I know what I’ve lost. And if I could trade places with you, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
His eyes grew damp, and he had to clear his throat again. He looked toward the door, at a loss for what to say next. “So...”
“Heck of a bruise you have there.” Beth gestured to his face, where the whole left side was mottled from the pounding Chase had given him.
“I deserved it.”
“You bastard. I told you to stay away from her,” Chase snarled.
Squaring his shoulders, Ethan gently put his hands on Beth’s arms with the intention of moving her out from between them, but she wouldn’t be budged.
“Move, Beth.” Chase stalked toward them and reached out to set her aside.
“Not on your life,” she told him. Hands up, she shoved on her brother’s chest and backed up toward Ethan, hitting his chest with her back. “Back off, Chase. This isn’t your concern.”
Gordon quickly stepped up behind Chase and placed a restraining hand on his shoulder, which Chase shook off.
“The hell it isn’t!” He glared down at her, incredulous. “Have you forgotten that none of this would have happened if he hadn’t opened his big mouth to his girlfriend? For God’s sake, Beth, you lost a child because of him.”
Ethan sucked in his breath at Chase’s words. The silence in the room was deafening, no one seeming to know what to say. After a minute, Beth spoke.
“I haven’t forgotten a damned thing.” She looked past Chase to Gordon. “Would you mind escorting my brother downstairs for a few minutes while I talk with Ethan?”
