CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hatcher struggled to keep his anger at bay as they left Andi Rosten’s house. He understood the Rostens’ protective instincts toward their daughter. He’d felt that way toward his wife.
But he’d failed her.
He didn’t want to fail Andi. Although his job at the moment wasn’t to find her rapist.
His job was to find Judge Wadsworth’s killer.
The next stop was to see another rape victim. “Tell me about Renee Wiggins.”
“Let me pull up the files to refresh my memory. Cat said she updated them with current information.” Korine accessed the information on her iPad. “Renee Wiggins is twenty-three, was studying nursing at College of Coastal Georgia.”
“Did she finish?”
Korine scrunched her nose as she skimmed for information. “Not yet. She took a couple of semesters off for counseling. But she’s back at school now.”
“Good for her. Where does she live?”
Korine recited the street address for a small house in Brunswick.
“She was engaged, but she broke it off,” Korine said, a note of sadness to her voice.
Hatcher clamped his mouth shut. The attack had probably wrecked her relationship with the fiancé. Not uncommon in rape cases. The female was traumatized. Her partner suffered from guilt over not keeping her safe. He didn’t know how to help her.
She didn’t want him touching her.
Five minutes later, he parked in front of a small white clapboard house in a neighborhood that catered to rentals for students. Flags in the Mariners’ colors of royal blue and gray swayed in the breeze from several of the homes. He and Korine climbed out and walked up to the door; then he knocked.
Seconds later, a sandy-haired woman in pale-blue scrubs dotted with cartoon characters answered the door.
“Renee Wiggins?” Hatcher asked.
“Who wants to know?” A wariness darkened her eyes.
Korine spoke softly and introduced them. “We need a few minutes of your time.”
She crossed her arms. “I know what this is about. Andi called.”
Damn, he hadn’t realized the women were in contact. “So you heard about Judge Wadsworth’s murder?”
“How could I not? It’s been all over the news.” She opened the screen and shoved a piece of paper in his hand. “I was at the hospital Monday night, working. That’s my supervisor’s name and phone number so you can verify my story. For the record, I didn’t like the judge, and naturally, I was upset that he let that son-of-a-bitch rapist out of jail. But I sure as shit didn’t kill him.”
Her challenging look suggested they were dismissed. “Excuse me. I have to get to the hospital, or I’ll be late for my shift.”
“You’re finishing your degree?” Korine said. “Good for you.”
Renee lifted her chin. “That lowlife jerk took my peace of mind, but I’m a survivor. I don’t intend to let him ruin the rest of my life.”
Whereas Andi Rosten had seemed broken and afraid of her own shadow, this woman was using her anger to push forward.
Natalie Cox, the rapist’s third victim, had been strong and had held up well during police interviews and the trial.
Korine skimmed the information Cat had sent for updates, but according to the file, Natalie and her sister still co-owned the gym they’d bought together a few months after the attack. A photo of Natalie and her sister at the grand opening of the gym after they’d renovated it was in the file. The sisters looked proud of their new venture. “Natalie should be at the gym. She opens at five a.m. and leaves round five p.m. The sister works the evening shift.”
“A gym? Her way of fighting back?”
“Probably. The center’s emphasis is on the whole woman. They teach self-defense classes, yoga, weight training, aerobics, spinning, and Zumba. They also have a running-and-swimming club and a CrossFit boot camp. In addition, they offer seminars to encourage women’s empowerment, mental health, and financial planning.”
She gave Hatcher the address, and they found the center in a refurbished warehouse near SCAD.
Midday, and the parking lot was full. “What did you think about Renee Wiggins?” she asked as they walked to the door of the center.
“She seems nervous but smart. You?”
“My gut instinct says we can cross her off the suspect list.”
Hatcher opened the door, and they entered to the sound of voices and country music. A glass partition designated an area for childcare, another one showcased the lap pool, and other rooms housed various classes.
A slender woman with coffee-colored skin and long, dark braids greeted them. “Welcome to Fab Female. What can we do for you today?”
Korine recognized Natalie from the press coverage of the trial. She flashed her badge and introduced the two of them. “We need to talk to you about Judge Wadsworth.”
Natalie’s smile faded. “I saw the story about his murder on the news. But what does that have to do with me?”
Hatcher cleared his throat. “We’re speaking to everyone connected to trials he presided over.”
Natalie narrowed her eyes. “Because you think one of us killed him?” Disbelief edged her voice; then she waved over a shorter version of herself. Her sister. “Tori, tell these federal agents where you and I were Monday night.”
Tori adjusted her ponytail. “We spoke at a women’s seminar at Georgia Tech University in Atlanta. It was a packed crowd.”
Easy enough to check.
“Now we have that out of the way, are you going to retry Milt Milburn?” She leaned over the counter, brows raised. “If you have time to question the women he victimized, surely you have time to get more evidence on that asshole.”
Korine didn’t blame the woman for being bitter. Milburn’s rape victims had suffered emotionally and physically at his hands. Making matters worse, they’d relived their ordeal in court, and the defense attorney had ripped them apart.
Then Judge Wadsworth had let him go on a damned technicality.
“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through,” Korine said. “And sorry that Milburn was released.”
The muscles in Natalie’s arms bunched as she crossed her arms. “Then do something about it.” She gestured around the center, at a group of young women gathered in the corner near the water fountains. “We deserve to be safe. And none of us are until he’s locked up for life.”
Korine couldn’t argue with her on that. She was a trained agent, but she still looked over her shoulder, kept alert for strangers watching her, and slept with her weapon by her side.