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He looked at herclosely, apparently sizing up whether she was bluffing or not. Then he lookedover at Ryan, who still had one hand on his badge and another on his holster.In that moment, he seemed to make his decision.
“I have just oneword for you,” he said, his mouth turning into a nasty, twisted grin.
“What’s that?” sheasked though she already knew the answer and how difficult it would makesolving this case.
“Lawyer.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jessie seethedquietly.
She and Ryan werewaiting in a conference room at the West Los Angeles police station, wherethey’d taken Mitchell Vaughn. They’d agreed that it made more sense to try tointerrogate him there rather than drive all the way back downtown to CentralStation. After all, if they could somehow eliminate Vaughn as a suspect, atleast they’d be in the right part of town to continue to investigate.
But it turned outthat there was no interrogation, which is what had Jessie so furious. AfterVaughn had invoked his right to a lawyer back at his office, Ryan had read himhis rights. But once that formality was complete, Jessie had tried to get theguy to change his mind.
Both in the car onthe way over and in the interrogation room where they’d placed him, she did herbest to cajole him into cooperating. Since she wasn’t a cop, it wasn’ttechnically a violation for her to continue to question Vaughn, although itcame close to the line.
It didn’t matter.The realtor didn’t say a word the whole drive to the station. After a fewminutes in the interrogation room of Jessie trying to re-establish a connectionwith him in order to get him chatting, he finally stared her in the eyes.
“Two words thistime,” he said slowly. “Lawyer, bitch.”
She left theinterrogation room without speaking. Ryan, who had calmed down since hisoutburst at the office, made the call. It turned out that Vaughn had a personalcriminal attorney, which made sense, as he seemed to need one often.
“The lawyer is onhis way,” Ryan said, sounding somewhat chastened as he joined her in theconference room. “He reminded us not to speak to his client until he arrived.”
“Funny how thatworks,” Jessie grumbled. “I guess when you try to intimidate a guy who hasexperience with the criminal justice system, rather than take a moreaccommodating approach, he tends to shut down and give you nothing.”
“I know I made amistake,” Ryan said quietly. “I let my frustration get the better of me.Between Captain Parker pressing us all the time and seeing what was done toAvery Sinclair, I guess I lost my grip a little.”
Jessie turned toface him directly when she replied.
“I get it,” shesaid. “I feel these losses more than anyone. Don’t forget that I lost my motherto a murderer—my own father—when I was just six. Seeing all these young kidslose theirs is gutting me. But you’re the seasoned professional here. If anyoneis supposed to rein in spiraling emotions, it should be you doing that to me.Now we can’t get anything out of this guy.”
A knock on theconference room door made them both look up. A young, brown-haired femaleofficer named Stoller poked her head in.
“The receptionistfor Mitchell Vaughn is here. She said you wanted her to come in for aninterview.”
“Thanks,” Ryansaid, “Please send her in.”
A minute later,Officer Stoller brought Marian Voytek back. Ryan motioned for her to have aseat opposite them. She looked significantly more nervous now than she had backat the realty office.
“Thanks for comingin, Ms. Voytek,” Ryan began.
“You can call meMarian,” she told him.
“How long have youworked for Mitchell Vaughn, Marian?” Jessie asked.
“About four yearsnow,” the woman answered.
“Are you veryinvolved in his work?” Jessie continued. “Do you know his clients?”
“I didn’t meet anyof them personally,” Marian said. “I usually stay in the office and Mitch likedto meet with clients in the field.”
“Do you recognizethe names Tabitha Reynolds or Naomi Hackett?” Ryan asked.
“Sure,” Marianreplied immediately. “Vaughn Realty was the selling agency on the Reynolds homeand on the home that the Hacketts bought.”
“What aboutClarissa Langley?” Ryan wondered.
