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“You don’t have evidence that I’ve committed a crime,” Nina insisted. “You have evidence that I’m an unpleasant person in your opinion. I’m sorry to know that you feel that way about me. I didn’t intend to come across that way.”
“You were very keen to point out that the killer could be a woman,” Faith reminded her. “In fact, you seemed almost offended that we behaved as though we were certain the killer was a man.”
Nina didn’t respond, but the way her lips twitched told Faith she had struck a nerve.
“So you have to admire the killer, at least,” Michael said. “Otherwise, why would you want us to think of the killer as awoman? Why would you brag about the fact that a woman was more likely to commit the crime?”
Nina rolled her eyes but didn’t respond.
“See, this is being uncooperative,” Faith said. “This is the kind of thing that leads to multiple life sentences with no parole. I’m not going to lie and act like we can plea deal you down to fifteen years, but we can get you possibility of parole. You might be out in time to spend your golden years in comfort. You might even be able to get medium security instead of maximum. Trust me, there’s a massive difference.”
Nina took a deep breath and released it slowly. “It’s not a crime to have a fascination with the macabre. There are people who collect human skulls or preserved fetuses.”
“And I guarantee you, those people get talked to any time something odd happens in their neighborhoods,” Michael replied.
“Well, you’re not talking to me. You’re accusing me. You arrested me.”
“Because we don’t just have a fascination in your case,” Faith explained. “We have evidence.”
“Mica powder that smells like whatever your dog found at the crime scene.”
Faith frowned slightly. The more that was repeated, the thinner their evidence sounded. A spark of doubt flitted across her mind. She glanced at Michael and saw the same concern on his face. They needed more if they were going to charge Nina. They needed her to confess to something or let something slip that could give them more concrete evidence.
Faith decided to try a friendlier approach. “You know, you’re right. We haven’t given you a chance to explain your side of the story. Let’s go back to the mica powder. You said you were using it for an artwork, right?’
Nina sat up straighter. Her eyes took on an almost desperate excitement. “Yes! Yes, that’s true!”
“Do we have pictures of that art?” Faith asked Michael.
“Yep. The police sent some to me a few minutes ago.”
He pulled the pictures up on his phone and showed them to Faith. Faith nodded, and Michael turned the phone to show the images to Nina. Nina frowned. "I told you it was a depiction of the Magnum Opus."
"See, here's what's interesting, though," Faith said, pointing at the first image. "See this girl? Dead ringer for Cassidy Holt."
“I didn’t—”
"And the blonde looks an awful lot like Samantha Reynard," Michael said.
“Listen—”
“And this one,” Faith said, swiping to the third image. “This one is what really makes me wonder. The curly red hair, the build, the birthmark just below her belly button on the left side: it’s very hard for me to believe that it’s coincidental that you have an almost exact image of Lorraine Hayes on your painting.”
Nina’s face was white as a sheet, and Faith felt some of her confidence return. “Do you have an explanation for that, Miss Verbeck?”
Nina began to tremble. “It’s just a painting. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“It’s not just a painting,” Michael corrected. “It’s a painting of our victims.”
“But…”
“How did you know Cassidy Holt?”
“I didn’t. Lots of women are of average height and petite build with long dark hair.”
“How many women have birthmarks like the one Lorraine Hayes has?”
Nina’s lip trembled. “It was an aesthetic choice.”
