Chapter 22

I returned to the room just in time to hear Johnson question Ms. Green on her whereabouts the Friday that Effridge was murdered.

“I went by to see him after my class.” Her eyes were glassy with tears that were pooling. “I saw someone running down the stairs and out the front door.”

“Do you know who it was?” he asked.

“No.”

“Was it a man or a woman?”

“I’m not sure. I didn’t get a good look at them.”

“Did you go see the professor?”

“No, I called him when I got outside his door, but he never answered the phone.”

“You never went in the apartment at all?”

“Um, no. I just wish I had gotten there sooner.” She began to sob. I reached for a couple of napkins on the table and set them in front of her. I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly why I’d felt like she wasn’t being honest, but I wasn’t believing everything she was telling us.

“Why do you think getting there sooner would have changed anything?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled.

The questioning went on for approximately another thirty minutes before I suggested we break. We weren’t getting anywhere, and I needed to have a conversation with Johnson. I showed Ms. Green where the restroom was, and made sure she knew how to get back to our interrogation room before I stepped a few feet from her earshot when she’d walk back.

“Bates sent a knife to the lab. A couple of kids were playing in a field and saw it. They ran home and told their parents. They swore they never touched it. Hopefully we get some information back on it soon,” I said.

“What makes you so sure it’s the one from this case?”

“I don’t know that it is, but it has a long skinny blade and I could see what looked like were possibly a couple of blood spots on it still. I just hope being outside that any DNA on it is still usable.”

“That’s for sure. And with even more luck, there’s a fingerprint we can use. Let’s keep our fingers crossed,” Johnson said.

“What’s your take on Green’s story? Do you believe her?”

“I believe she went to the apartment, and I believe she called Effridge, but after that, I don’t think she’s being honest at all,” Johnson said.

“Those are my sentiments exactly. She’s already lied to us, so who’s to say she isn’t lying now, too?”

“She’s on her way back. Let’s not keep her much longer; we need to get over to see Buckley.”

“Okay, I’m going to put some pressure on her and see if she cracks. If not, we’ll send her on her way,” I said.

We walked over to the room and arrived outside the door at the same time as Ms. Green. I opened the door for her to enter first, then we shut the door behind us and took our seats.

“Detectives, I don’t have anything else to tell you. I’m heartbroken about Chase,” she said through tears. “I loved him. We even talked about getting married one day.”

“Ms. Green, we’re having a little bit of a problem believing parts of your story. Why not just come clean and tell us everything? You can tell us the truth. You went into Effridge’s apartment when you got there, didn’t you? You found out that Larissa MacDonald wasn’t the ex-girlfriend he claimed she was and you got pissed. You were so angry because you felt like you’d been played for a fool by someone you’d fallen in love with and trusted. Isn’t that right?” I asked.

“No! That’s not true. I don’t like the way you’re talking to me.” The tears streamed down her cheeks. Her hands wiped at them as fast as windshield wipers.

“Maybe you’d feel more comfortable coming clean if your mom was here with you. Should I call her?”

“You promised! You can’t tell her. She’ll be pissed forever.”

“Think how disappointed she’ll be when she finds out you’re a murderer. Or maybe it wasn’t you, but someone you know who did it.”

“No! I want to leave! I don’t want to talk to you anymore!” she screamed.

“You’re free to leave. You aren’t under arrest, yet. But before you go, if you want to clear your name we need to collect a DNA sample from you.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled. She sat in her chair and pouted like a small child again. Johnson left the room and retrieved the swabbing kit. When he returned, he swabbed the inside of her cheek then placed the swab in the sterile container to be sent to the lab.

Without a word, she stood and shoved the chair back, toppling it onto its side, then stormed out the door.

“Good job. You definitely got under her skin. Did you notice she never denied killing him? She’s involved somehow, I can feel it,” Johnson said. “Let’s go find Buckley.”

It didn’t take us long to arrive at the apartment building. I couldn’t help but feel like something wasn’t quite right. We walked up the stairs and I stopped right outside apartment seven. I thought I heard movement inside and knocked on the door.

“What are you doing?” Johnson asked.

“This is Effridge’s place. I could have sworn I heard something inside.” I knocked again. When no one answered, I tried the door. It was unlocked. My heart began to race and my breaths became shallow. I could feel my throat tighten and the sweat beginning to bead on my forehead. I drew my weapon and slowly pressed the door open. Johnson drew his weapon and followed me. The living room was clear. We walked to the kitchen to find no one there. I laid the manila folder on the table. I didn’t want to worry about that while trying to figure out what was going on. We both heard a clunk like someone dropped something coming from one of the bedrooms, I guessed. We looked at each other, then I returned my gaze toward the hall. My heart felt like it had moved up into my throat and my blood thundered through my veins. I looked back at Johnson once again before stepping out of the kitchen and he signaled for me to go.

I eased down the hallway, being careful not to make any noise with my steps. I was silently hoping whoever was in here was on their way out the window, or at the very least unarmed. When I was within a step or two of the doorway, I stopped.

“I don’t know who’s in here, but this is the police. We’re coming in,” I said. I hoped that would be enough warning, because if someone had a gun pulled on me I was shooting to kill before they shot me. I ducked low, then skidded around the door and inside the room with my gun on the person standing there holding a garbage bag. Johnson quickly joined me in the room.

“What the hell are you doing?” I said as I stood up. “Why are you in here?”