Michael sat in the viewing room and watched Mickey's interrogation. He got a text while he waited from one of the admins, who had the results of the plate check he'd requested.
According to her text, the plate came back to a James Robinson of Bellingham. No records of note except a couple of speeding and parking tickets.
Certainly not Dick Johnson from the Daily.
That unsettled Michael. He made a note to call the Daily and see if there was a James Robinson from Bellingham on the payroll. If not, he'd have to go and ask Mr. Robinson aka Dick Johnson to clear up a few things -- primarily why he had been following Tess.
He sent a text to Tess, while he listened to police question Mickey.
MICHAEL: Maybe don't go anywhere alone today. The plate of that newspaper reporter came back to someone with an entirely different name from Bellingham. Until I know he's legit with the paper, you shouldn't go anywhere alone.
TESS: Okay. How's it going?
MICHAEL: Mickey's a pretty cool cucumber. He's very chill despite being here for so long.
TESS: I just can't believe he killed those men but if Rachel came in to see him and they left together...
MICHAEL: Many of us are capable of violence if the situation demands.
TESS: Don't I know it. See you later.
MICHAEL: Later.
Michael watched Mickey. He'd just finished a sandwich one of the detectives had bought for him from the cafeteria and was drinking down a fresh cup of coffee. He looked calm, like he was unfazed by being brought in for questioning.
No matter what they did, Mickey didn't seem that he was going to crack.
He spoke with Detective Chambers during their lunch break.
"What can you do to rattle him? He's far too cool under pressure."
Chambers shrugged. "We only have opportunity," he said and rubbed his head. "We don't have any actual evidence that he was ever at the crime scene."
"What about the footprint? Could you match it to him?"
"We're getting a warrant now to search his apartment and the garage he rents for the mission, see if we find anything but the boots that he's currently wearing are not similar to the print we found at the crime scene."
Michael nodded. "That might turn up something."
"You're welcome to come along when we go in, check it out. I think I'll let Mickey cool his heels in the interrogation room while we search his place."
"Good idea," Michael replied. "If you find anything, you can present it to him, see if that puts a crack in that cool facade of his."
"My thoughts exactly.”
When the judge had approved the search warrant, Michael joined Chambers and the other officers who were going to Mickey's apartment and then the garage to do a search for any evidence that might link him to the crime scene.
They arrived at Mickey's place mid-afternoon and as before, got the building manager to open the door to the apartment so they didn't have to break in. Once inside, the detectives and evidence techs spread out, each taking a room and conducting a search for evidence. They were most interested in Mickey's boots and shoes, to see if they could match a pair to the print at the crime scene, but after two hours of searching and taking samples, they came up empty. They did collect Mickey's computer and boxes of video tapes, just in case Mickey was involved in the crime and was a member of the child porn ring that Michael and Chambers suspected existed in the Pacific Northwest.
They next went to the garage where Mickey kept the semi and food truck. The place was closed up and there was no building manager to be found. Chambers had to use his lock-picking kit to open the front entrance. Once inside, they split up and each took an area of the building to conduct their search. For an hour, they checked every nook and cranny in the large garage space.
Michael was responsible for the workbench, and was busy opening and closing drawers, only to find tools and other items necessary to service an engine when he heard a shout from the other side of the garage.
"Got something," one of the detectives called out.
They all converged on the corner of the garage and there stood Detective Pierce, Chambers' partner. He had a boot in his gloved hand, holding it up from inside a barrel of trash.
"He didn't think very far ahead," Pierce said with a shake of his head. "Must have figured his alibi would hold and so he didn't have to get rid of these. There's a dark stain on the sole and it's the right kind and size to match the print at the crime scene. I'm pretty sure we'll find blood when forensics gets this."
One of the forensic techs went over and bagged the boot, and Michael felt relief that perhaps they had Mickey -- finally. He'd stonewalled all day, but now he'd have to come up with some story to explain his bloody boot that matched the one at the crime scene. Michael could only hope that the story Mickey told also solved the question of where Rachel and Sadie were and that they were safe and sound.
They took the boot back to the main headquarters and turned the evidence over to the forensic unit techs. They would be able to confirm the presence of human blood right away but getting a profile off the blood would take longer.
Michael returned to the observation room and saw that Mickey was sitting quietly, looking a little more frazzled as he waited for someone to come in and continue questioning him.
"What's your approach?" Michael asked Chambers, who sat watching Mickey through the two-way mirror.
"I'll confront him with the boot and blood stain," he said. "See what he says. He won't be able to deny he was there when we tell him we matched it to a print at the scene. The only question is whose blood it is and what happened to Rachel and Sadie."
"Hopefully, he'll spill once he realizes we have him at the scene," Michael said. "Get a confession. He hasn't asked for his lawyer yet, so hopefully, we can get him talking."
"My thoughts exactly," Chambers said. "Wish me luck. I'm going back in. I'm taking a few photos of the bloody footprint and one of his boots with the trace blood on the sole. Hopefully, that will knock some sense into him that he better come clean."
"Good luck," Michael said. "I'll be watching with breathless anticipation."
Chambers laughed and left the room.
Michael watched through the two-way mirror, and soon enough, Chambers entered the interrogation room and sat down in his chair once more.
"Look, Mickey," he said in a soft voice. "We've been at this all day. I'm sure you're getting tired and we're all tired. Why don't we wrap this up? No more stalling. We know you did it. We have evidence you were at the crime scene."
"What crime scene?" Mickey asked, his voice sounding flippant. "I'm all ears."
"The one up at Silver Lake," Chambers said, opening the file and placing one of the two photos on the table in front of Mickey. Michael could just make out that it was the bloody boot print with the characteristic tread pattern on the sole.
"This is curious," Chambers said. "It's not a common boot. Has this specific sole. Really characteristic. No other boot has that particular design so we knew it would be a matter of finding someone connected to the case who owned that kind of work boot."
"And?" Mickey said, his voice much less firm now.
"And, we got a search warrant and went to your apartment and the garage where you keep the food truck and the semi container."
Chambers removed the second photo -- one of the boots removed from the garage trash can.
"We found this in the garage trash bin, underneath some garbage." Chambers folded his hands and looked directly at Mickey. "They match. And we've confirmed that it's human blood on the sole. That boot made that print at the crime scene. We have a statement from one of your volunteers who works Friday night on the food truck that you weren't working that Friday night. This volunteer reports that you were gone for five whole hours and didn't return until just before they were supposed to lock up for the night. Five whole hours, Mickey. That would give you time to drive up to Silver Lake, kill those men, and drive back."
Mickey visibly shrank into himself at that.
He leaned back and ran his hands over his head, clasping them together and staring at the ceiling.
"Okay," he said, his voice low. "I'll tell you what happened."
"I'm all ears."
Then, Mickey confessed. Michael almost held his breath while he listened.
"I did it," Mickey said, his voice sounding tired. "I killed those two men. Rachel came to the bar and told me she needed help. This was about nine thirty or so. She said that her father found her, and he'd abducted Sadie and had her up at Silver Lake. She wanted me to follow her up there and help her get Sadie back. I agreed. We drove up in separate cars, and when we went inside the cabin, both men were naked and in the middle of abusing Sadie while they videotaped it. I had my knife and just flipped out. I stabbed the one man who was on top of Sadie maybe a dozen times in the back and neck when I saw what he was doing to her. Then, I slashed Rachel's father in the gut, and he ran outside. I followed him to the outhouse and stabbed him maybe a dozen times in total. After that, I threw him into the pit because that's where he belonged -- in a pit of shit and piss. He was a monster. He deserved to die."
Mickey folded his arms and leaned back.
"You're willing to swear to that in a formal confession of guilt?"
"I am," Mickey said. "I did it and I don't regret it. Neither of those two monsters deserved to take another breath for what they've both done."
Chambers leaned back and returned the photos back into the file, closing it up.
"Okay," he said. "I'll ask you to write your confession down in your own hand and we'll transcribe it, and have you sign it. I'll be back in a moment with the documents."
"I'm not going anywhere," Mickey said in a voice filled with resignation.
While Michael watched, Chambers left the room. On the screen, Mickey covered his face with his hands.
Chambers came into the observation room and raised his hand up to Michael for a high-five. Then, they fist bumped.
"This is a good day," Chambers said. "I'm so glad we went to the garage and found that damn boot or we would have had to let him go. Now, I'm going to speak with the prosecutor in charge of the case, and we'll decide what to charge him with. We'll have to wait and see what he says happened with Rachel and Sadie. If they're both still alive, and he can prove it, we'll see what he's charged with. But we got him for the double murder, at least."
Michael nodded. It was a relief whenever a suspect confessed, but there was still the question of where Rachel and Sadie were.
Until that question was answered, it was still possible that Rachel and Sadie were dead. If that was the case, the matter was far from over.
Something nagged at the edges of Michael's mind, despite the initial pleasure he got at the confession. He couldn't quite nail down what it was, but it was there in the back of his consciousness, like a dark cloud ruining an otherwise sunny day.