Autopsy of a Mind

Chapter 132: Playing With High-Profile Criminals

We saw them leave silently and stared. "So, what do we do next?" I asked after a minute.

"We called in Maya's boyfriend," Nash informed me. 

"Good. We will need to have some officers tail McCain, too," I insisted. 

"What do you want to do?" he asked. 

"See where he goes and makes him feel like he is being followed all the time. If we get a location on the weapon, that could be great," I commented with a grimace. 

"Pretty sure that he threw it in the river. Without solid evidence, we can't send people down to search for a needle in a haystack," Nash told me. 

I nodded, knowing this was the truth. "I don't know. The way he reacted when I said that the murder weapon might have his fingerprints" I tapped my finger against the folder. "His reaction told me that if we tried, we could find the knife."

Nash patted my back. "Don't think too deeply about it," he emphasized. 

"I am just nervous. If we don't get a confession, that weasel Collins will get him out somehow. All that footage of him in her house and driving around? He could still claim he had no idea what day it was. The footage would become null and void."

"We have footprints and the son's testimony, too," Nash assured. 

I shook my head. "The most we can charge him with is lying to the police and breaking the restraining order. We don't have a murder weapon. The DNA under her nails? He'll say some bullshit about it and get away." I sighed. 

"The son's testimony," Nash ground out. But I knew he could also see how hard it was going to be. 

"He's younger than fourteen. An unreliable narrator. You know how judges and jury look at these matters. They'll say that the story is contaminated or scare the child into not speaking." It was the truth. It had happened too many times.

"So, we need a confession." Nash's shoulder slumped. 

"Let's get back to work, shall we?" I insisted. "We still have to listen to the distress call and locate who the caller was. That is a potential witness. Then, we have to track his other phone. Because this man left his normal phone in his house and took the other one."

I thought about it for a moment. "Who do you think will have that number?"

"Apart from Collins? McCain's manager," Nash said confidently. "If only we could find the murder weapon," Nash grunted. 

"Well, it's a lost cause." I squinted my eyes. "Damn, we need to wrap this case up within a few days I have a conference in another city to attend, too," I groaned. 

"What? The one with Professor Singh?" Nash asked curiously. 

"Yeah. Something about how Foucault was wrong about the panopticon and how helpless and unwanted juvenile delinquents feel in institutions." I shrugged. 

"You really pay close attention to these things, don't you?" Nash commented with a hint of pride. 

"of course. It's not just a job for me. I study diligently so that I learn more. I even took the consultant exam for the government so that no one can question me and my methods." I pouted. 

"I heard you scored really high."

"I did. Didn't get much time to study for it, though. Sebastian doesn't know my score yet," I told him conspiratorially. Nash burst into laughter. 

"God, you two are the strangest couple I have ever encountered. You're worried about your grades because he might think you are stupid and he is worried about you overworking. You only talk about blood and gore." He shook his head. 

"Thanks to you, we don't get to talk about much else," I whined. 

Nash raised his hand to clutch his heart. "Are you going to throw away valuable experience for a smooch from your boyfriend? You don't even know how long the relationship will last," he teased. 

I rolled my eyes. "It's going to last for a very long time. Until one of us dies. Now, if one of us will kill the other is still in question, but I don't think that will happen," I granted him that. 

"See? You two are so different. How can you so assuredly say that he is the end-game for you?" Nash was surprised beyond belief.

"Sebastian knows what he wants and he never changes." I frowned. "Well, in essentials, he doesn't change. But when you get to know him better and see him in the real light, you can see what kind of a person he is. I know that he will never abandon me or lie about caring or loving me." I paused and thought about the next part. "While I thought that was not something I could ever have, I have realized that I can give it a try. I have been the happiest with him and I have found that I enjoy being happy."

Nash grinned like the Cheshire Cat. "Yes, we all like being happy." And then he scrunched his brow in disgust. "Now you have made me crave fluff and romance."

I elbowed him. "Don't tell me, the mighty Detective Nash that everyone looks up to is averse to love." I raised a brow in question. Nash turned to glare at me. "What does behavioral science say about that?" I inquired teasingly. 

"It says that I was busy studying in college and then busy working day and night and never really got a taste of love." He batted my hand away. 

We had already made our way back to the office and were looking at the piles of paperwork on our desks. "Let's get to it," I groaned. 

I pulled out the voice recording from emergency services.

"Hi, I came out for a walk and heard some screaming from a neighborhood house. There seems to be a fight going on," a male voice came on. It was a bit jumbled and the microphone had morphed the voice a little, but the lack of concern in his voice and confident lilt in his voice made him distinguishable. "I think there is a break in Can you come quickly?"

There was information exchanged and nothing more. He didn't give any name or particulars about what he heard, just the sounds of a violent argument.

I tapped on the desk to get Nash's attention. He looked up curiously. 

"Collins made the emergency call." His eyes widened. "I am sure. I analyzed his speaking style and voice modulation. It's definitely him," I told him before he could ask me. 

"But he wouldn't be at the scene when it was happening, right?" Nash asked. "We saw McCain stop near Collins' residence-cum-office, so"

"He made it from his residence, of course," I ended the thought. I pulled out the video footage of McCain driving around the city and went to the part where he was in the residential area. I noted the time and matched it with the call. 

"He stopped in the residential area for about ten minutes and then he drove off. Shortly after, Collins made the call."

Nash scrubbed his face. "Watch the footage again. Do you see anything of note?" he asked. He stood up and came to my side. We watched slowly as the whole thing transpired. Despite how grainy the video was, when I looked closely, I could see McCain drop something on the pavement from his window.

We were silent. "Do you think that is the weapon?" Nash asked me softly. 

"I think so" 

But it didn't add up. "Why did he go near the river, then?" I asked, perplexed. 

"To throw us off," Nash declared. "Collins isn't stupid. He was a public defender and he knows the technology we have on our hands. He played it well to safeguard himself."

"Even if McCain gets caught, Collins won't be pulled up for fabricating evidence and tampering with the crime scene?" I asked. 

Nash looked at me with keen eyes. "What I would give to get that weapon back. I wonder what Collins did with it," Nash wondered.

"Got rid of it," I said without emotion. "We should lose hope. Even if they bring him in for questioning, we will get nothing. He can deny everything. It doesn't stand in the trial."

I lowered my head to the desk.

"This man is thorough, isn't he?" Nash was just as frustrated, I could tell.

"Of course, he plays with high-profile criminals. He can't let their names be tainted or his for that matter. He takes all the precautions necessary."

"Then our only hope is getting answers and evidence from the boyfriend and turning the manager over to our side," Nash prompted. 

"That means we need to figure out what the manager wants." I looked at him, a bubble of deviousness flashing in my eyes.

"What are you planning?" he asked with a hint of hesitation.

"I might have to play some tricks to get a word out of the Manager. But don't worry, I won't do anything illegal or grey." I smiled wide. 

"So manipulative," Nash clucked his tongue. 

"You're one to talk!" I countered. We laughed, letting our burdens go for a minute. Soon, we would have to return to work and make sure that Maya got justice.