11

Mrs. Sourn. I appreciate your willingness to speak to me again.” Avery sat on the same place on the couch as her last visit, this time without Mitch.

The paleness in the woman’s features hadn’t left her. “You know I want to do everything I can to help find my niece’s murderer.”

“I need to ask you about a ring.” Avery handed Mrs. Sourn a photo of the ring they’d gotten from the pawnshop. “Do you recognize this piece of jewelry?”

Mrs. Sourn fingered the photo. “I . . . yes. My husband had it custom designed. How did you get this photo?”

Avery ignored the woman’s question for now. “When was the last time you saw the ring?”

“I don’t know . . . two . . . maybe three months ago. I wore it to a dinner party with friends back at the end of April.”

“So you didn’t know it was missing?”

“No.” Mrs. Sourn set the photo down on the coffee table between them. “I assumed it was still in the jewelry box where I normally keep it.”

“We traced the maker’s mark on the ring to Hannah Celeste.”

“Yes, she’s one of the best designers in the area. I fell in love with her work several years ago and always wanted one of her pieces. When my husband surprised me with it for one of our anniversaries, I was elated.”

“Where do you keep the ring?”

“In my bedroom.”

“It’s worth over ten thousand dollars. Why didn’t you keep it in a safe?”

Mrs. Sourn’s gaze shifted to the floor. “My husband would agree with you, and now I suppose he was right. He always said we should keep my jewelry in a safety deposit box, but it seems silly to own beautiful pieces and then keep them locked up, never wearing them. I have a few things locked away, but most of it I keep here in the house.”

“Where, exactly?”

“On my dresser in an old jewelry box that used to belong to my mother.”

“So, potentially anyone who was in your house could have had the opportunity to steal the ring.”

“I suppose.”

“Like Tala.”

Mrs. Sourn shook her head. “I can’t imagine her stealing from me. Where did you find it?”

“Tala had the ring with her.”

“Are you telling me she stole the ring from me?”

“It would appear that way.”

“I just can’t believe that.” Mrs. Sourn reached up and rubbed the back of her neck. “And the person who killed her . . . do you have any leads?”

“We’re questioning a potential suspect right now.”

“So you might have found her killer—”

“It’s too early to know at this point, but thank you for your help, Mrs. Sourn.” Avery stood. “I promise we will be in touch.”

An hour later, Avery slid the picture of Tala across the table in front of Bear. Features swollen and pale . . . the photo was haunting. “Mr. Philips. You’ve been lying to us, and this time I want the truth.”

So far he hadn’t asked for a lawyer, and she had no intention of giving him the chance until she got what she wanted out of him.

“This is Tala. The girl you found in the alley Sunday night.”

Bear turned away as if trying to escape the memory.

Avery pushed the next photo in front of him. “This is our Jane Doe.”

Carlos stood and walked around the table to the other side of Bear. “Six weeks ago, we found her dead beside a Dumpster. Just like Tala.”

“I—”

“Please let me finish. Two girls dead. Similar MO.” Carlos leaned closer to Bear, but kept his voice soft and nonthreatening. “They both died a horrible death that neither deserved.”

Avery pulled the third color photo from the folder and placed it between the pictures of the two girls. “Here’s another picture.”

Bear tipped his chair back and pushed away the photo. “That’s my wife. Why are you showing me a picture of my wife?”

“I think you know why. It’s interesting, isn’t it? All young, pretty, Asian . . . and they are all dead. Your wife’s case was never solved, was it?”

“You know it wasn’t, but I didn’t kill my wife. I would never—”

“Here’s the problem, Bear.” Avery kept her voice even. Tight. “We can already tie you to Tala’s death. There’s no question about that. And as for the other girl and your wife—”

“I didn’t kill my wife. I didn’t kill those girls.”

Avery noted the pain reflected in his eyes and wanted to believe him, but no matter how much sympathy his manner evoked, the evidence was telling a different story.

“What do you think a jury will say when they learn that your fingerprints were all over the victim’s photo found on her body? You’ve admitted that you stole not only her letters from her, but a ring worth over ten thousand dollars. And if there were still any doubts, there’s the camera footage that puts you at the scene not once, but twice. And the first time is during the projected time of the murder.”

Bear flinched.

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out?” Avery leaned in closer. “Why did you lie about that, Bear? Why did you lie about the fact that you had been to the scene not once, but twice?”

“I . . . I don’t know. I wanted the letters and the ring, but the picture . . . I wanted to give her the picture back.”

“But it was too late. You’d already killed her—”

“No.”

“Bear, we’ve got motive, means, and opportunity. All the things we look for to convict killers. Three cases, all similar, one killer. How do you think that looks to us? How do you think that will look to a jury?”

Avery waited for his answer. Linking all three crimes might be a stretch at this point, but he didn’t have to know that.

“It looks bad.”

“Yes, it does.” Carlos leaned against the end of the table. “And no matter how you’ve been living these past few months, you’re a smart man. We only want to find out the truth, but you can see how this looks to us. You and your wife got into a fight one night about money or maybe she cheated on you. Things were tense between the two of you, and something snapped.”

“No.”

Avery studied his reaction. Shoulders hunched, head in hands, elbows on knees. What they had to determine was if he was upset simply over the loss of his wife or if he was feeling guilt. Her department hadn’t handled Laurie Philips’s case, but she’d reviewed the evidence that had surfaced in the file. James Philips had always been the number one suspect. Lack of evidence was the only thing that had saved him, but there were still plenty of people who had worked the case who believed James Philips had killed his wife. And none of them could ignore the possibility that he’d killed again.

“Isn’t that what happened, Bear?”

“No. I didn’t kill those girls, just like I didn’t kill my wife. I loved my wife. When I lost her, I lost everything. Why would I kill again when I know how horrid it is when you lose everything . . . everyone you’ve ever loved.”

“You killed again?”

“No.” Bear started rocking back and forth in his chair. Frustrated. Agitated. Right where they wanted him.

Carlos sat down in his chair and pushed the photos back in front of Bear. “You killed your wife, but that wasn’t enough, so you killed these girls, one at a time. You lost control in your marriage, lost control of your job, which meant you were out of control professionally. In killing them, you wanted the world to know that you could still be in control. They were helpless. You are not.”

“No.” Bear’s shoulders slumped.

“Then why did you take the ring?”

“You said it. I have nothing left. I lost my job after Laurie’s death. People thought I killed her. Even when I wasn’t arrested for her death, people looked at me every time I walked by. The courts might have let me go, but the world still saw me as guilty. When I saw that ring, it was my chance. In the end, everyone would win. The owner would get the insurance money, and I would sell it and go somewhere far away.”

“Not everyone won.”

“I want a lawyer now.”

Carlos glanced up at Avery, then looked at Bear. “You’ll get your lawyer, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re placing you under arrest for the murder of Tala Vuong.”