Autopsy of a Mind

The week passed with Nash and I running around to get permission to gid into this mystery accomplice who had sent us the murder weapon. The prosecution had been really helpful in this matter because they wanted to answer any and all questions the defense attorneys came up with. 

We really didn't want the murder weapon, a crucial piece of evidence to be ruled out because it had appeared under suspicious circumstances. But we were not allowed to interview Collins. His lawyer forbade us from talking to him, which spoke volumes about this accomplice. 

He was someone with influence. Even though Collins was going down, he couldn't rat out the guy who had gone into his house and taken the murder weapon before he could get rid of it.

Another clue.

We went to the restaurant and spoke to every employee there was. There was nothing special about this delivery partner despite the fact that he spoke kindly to everyone and always took orders off others' hands when he had 'little to do.' Unsurprisingly, one of those deliveries was to my apartment.

Adding Sebastian and the restaurant employees' testimonies, we had a vague picture of any man we could see on the road. Average looks, brown eyes, dark brown hair, normal height, normal clothes.

Normal.

Normal.

Normal.

And that was when it hit me. One night, as I was getting ready for bed, I thought back to every case we could trace back to this mystery accomplice. 

And it hit me. 

Grace… She ordered a ton of food from restaurants. And if it were any evidence of his actions, this guy liked to get in and out of people's lives without having them look at him closely.

And so, we visited her. 

The afternoon we knocked on her house door, it took her fifteen minutes to open. "Hello, I am Evie Marie Lewis," I told her as soon as she peaked out from behind the barely open door. From her hair and shining skin, I could guess that she was engaging in sexual activity with one of her clients in the home. 

I felt a rush of relief that sweet but broken little Carol was not in the picture. I was also enraged that this woman could go on with this life despite her child being taken away from her. Despite the torrid of tears she had shed the last time they saw her.

"How can I help you?" she asked in a low voice. She glanced back to make sure nobody was behind her.

I squinted. "We have some questions related to your daughter. May I come in?" Not that I wanted to go in.

She blinked and shook her head. Can you give me some time? I need to clean up the mess. 

"I don't have the time. Please get dressed and come out. We'll talk slowly so that no one else can hear what we are saying."

She looked puzzled but nodded. She took exactly two minutes before she rushed out. 

The sun was shining and she still looked disheveled. She reeked of sex and I had to take a step back despite my composure. 

"What questions?" she asked, in a hurry to see me out. "It's not good for business to be seen with cops."

"It's also not good to starve your child and not get them the help they need. Glad you have your priorities straight," I responded glumly. "Was there any particular delivery person who frequented your house in the months leading up to the deaths of the two boys? Especially after the second child was killed?"

I tapped my pen on the notepad. 

She looked stunned and shook her head. "We have loads of delivery people who frequent the house but no one stands out."

I nodded. "Were there any you engaged with sexually?" I asked bluntly. 

She looked offended at first but then her shoulders sank. "Yes, there were a couple. Sometimes I needed to pay for the food and I was short!" she defended. 

"Sure," I supplied without much emotion. "Which of them liked to choke you? Or have your daughter in the room as he did so?"

She blinked and I saw a flash of recognition in her eyes. "Yes, there was one." She pressed her hand over her mouth. "Was he the person you were looking for?"

"We are still unsure." I paused. "Why didn't you tell us about this matter before?" I questioned. 

She shrugged. "You asked about my clients. He was not my client, so I didn't think it was important. He was really sweet and naïve, too. I think I was the first woman he was with and he didn't particularly like sex. He enjoyed choking me more than anything. That got him going," she explained. Her lips hooked up into a small smile. 

"And you enjoyed his company?" I asked, pressing for more information. 

She nodded. "Despite his preferences, he was very gentle otherwise. He had warm eyes and always had a smile. He wasn't all about coming in and banging. He hung around to make sure I was comfortable, too."

I blinked. Okay. So, lack of interest in sex, but definitely had a fancy for sadistic and bondage-related activity. Possible aversion to sex or apathy. 

But this woman had seen him naked. Surely, she would know more. 

"Do you remember any features of his that stood out to you? Any marks on his body or the way he moved. Anything out of the ordinary?"

She thought about it for a moment. "He always wore a cap. It looked old but he always kept it safely away before taking off his clothes. Never left it unattended. Looked important."

I filled with hope. "Anything distinctive?"

"Just a green hat with a logo. I think it was from that football team." Oh. 

"If you remember anything, give me a call. We're looking for tips on this man." I got the name of the restaurant and everything but nothing much came from it. 

The CCTV footage of him was all blurry and you couldn't make out a single thing about his features. The cap was always in the way and his clothes and walk and everything was so normal that we couldn't follow him. He didn't have a car. He used the vehicles given to him by the restaurants and that was that. 

He blended into the crowd like a phantom.

Dead end.

But we didn't stop looking. Nash kept looking for caps that matched the description. He tried to find something… anything… in hopes that it was an important clue. 

"It's a personal treasure," I told him. "It doesn't need to be expensive," I groaned. "Maybe it signifies something emotional… like maybe he has a family member or friend who gave it to him… Or they went to watch the sport together."

Nash banged his hand on the table. "Usually, guys go with older siblings or their father to football games, right? So, an attachment to his father. Apathy towards sex, so possible abuse?"

"I don't know about abuse, though," I grumbled. 

We had more clues about his personality. But nothing to find out who he was.

"We have to find some clue to make sense of this!" Nash was irritated. 

"Tell the prosecutor that we will keep trying until we find something." I groaned.

The thing about celebrity cases was that the courts rushed to get a conviction or acquittal. With the prosecution going hard on McCain and his unethical lawyer Collins, the hearing was pushed forward by months.

After merely a week of the confession, the judges sitting in the podium were not as enthusiastic about the hearing. 

I wasn't called on the first day. The second day, I was called in. The lawyer representing McCain was an employee of Collins' firm and therefore, I expected them to use the same tricks as his boss.

The prosecutor was the first to question me. 

Nash had not been with me at the time and I had interviewed the family, the son, and the perpetrator, so I was their best bet to give a faithful narrative. 

I was seated on the witness stand and made to take the oath, which I did without reserve. 

"Can you state your name, please?" the Prosecutor asked.

"My name is Evie Marie Lewis," I said firmly. I was made to spell out my name for the court journalists for record and I did so. 

"Can you give me an introduction to yourself and your credentials, please?" he asked. The man's voice was soothing. 

"I have a post-graduate degree in foreign languages and linguistics from the University of W, specializing in the game of interaction and pain. Thereafter, I worked as the assistant to Sebastian Butler, Associate Professor of Criminology and Justice, at the University of W. He acts as a consultant for the federal investigation bureau and city police. I obtained an internship at the city police headquarters and have been working under Detective Seth Nash, Head of Behavioral Studies. I have also been extended a permanent position in the department as of one month ago."

The explanation was long but my accreditations seemed sufficient.

"Can you tell us about the number of cases you have handled in partnership with Detective Nash?" he probed. 

"I have handled over thirty-five active cases in the three months of my employment and can boast of a hundred percent solving rate as of this moment," I added the last part. 

"Impressive."

I nodded in acknowledgment. 

"Were you the one who interviewed Mr. McCain?"

I leaned into the microphone. "Yes, I was the one who interviewed Mr. McCain after he was called to the station for questioning."