Autopsy Of A Mind - Chapter 172

“Yes, we know that you are capable of cleaning up other crime scenes to protect high-profile people. Wasn’t that why you got suspended all those years ago?” Nash prompted. “When was this around again?” Nash turned to ask me.

“Around the time Lee Yunxi was murdered,” I said confidently. I had to cluck my tongue. “The media likes to hunt down news. Even if your team stops people here from speaking, the prosecutor’s office might not feel the same way,” I told him. “I wonder how your wife will feel.”

“My wife trusts me,” he breathed. He raised his brow at me confidently.

“Of course, your wife might not have known, but after we show her all the evidence, she won’t think otherwise. She’ll come running to meet you, too,” Nash said. “It’s going to be time for her to send lunch, won’t it? Your driver will find out before the media will.”

Nash, this cunning man, he was toying with Billy like nobody’s business. His gloves were off, he was going straight in for the throat. We had all the evidence we needed, we just needed to take control of the situation.

“It’s a shame, though. I think you would want to meet your son the most at this moment,” I prompted. Billy’s head snapped up in my direction.

“You—” he started. “Bastard, what do you want from me?” he asked, his voice a hiss.

“I want justice. I want to know the number of people you killed. How about you start with that?” I folded my hands on the desk and leaned in.

The door opened and I saw an officer peering in hesitantly.

I knew that the lawyer was already in the station. Billy took a sigh of relief.

“Let him in,” Nash pronounced, not in the least bit challenged by the change in event.

He didn’t speak to us, so we would have to appeal to the better judgment of the lawyer.

But it wasn’t one lawyer who entered. It was three. I looked at the entourage and tried to hide a smile. Powerful people really had connections. Even though Collins was on probation, they still found a number of star-studded attorneys to defend him and get him out of jail.

We had to pull out some chairs to let them sit.

The lawyer huffed and looked around the room. “Is this conversation being recorded?” the man with the peppered hair asked.

“Of course. As per procedure. Your client has been read the Miranda Rights and allowed the chance to get a lawyer.” Nash waved the signed paper in front of him. “Here is the documentation of the same.”

The lawyer took it in his hand and read over the paper before briefly nodding.

“Mr. Phillips, have they asked you any leading questions?” he asked.

“I didn’t answer,” he gruffly said. The lawyers sighed in relief.

“I assume he is a suspect for a murder? It happened a decade ago?” he said.

“Correct. It’s not a single murder, though. It’s a serial killing case that we suspect him off,” I acknowledged. The lawyers gave out a collective gasp.

“What sort of slander is this?” The main lawyer asked.

“It’s not slander if we don’t tell anyone about this. Except for a core group of three people, no one knows what we are working on,” Nash said calmly.

“And who are these three people?” The supervising lawyer asked, looking at the two of us.

“This is our consultant, Dr. Butler who was assigned the cold case and was working on solving it. I am Detective Nash, Head of Behavioral Studies, and a crime analyst by the name of Chase Frank who went through all the evidence are the only people involved,” Nash informed him.

The lawyer nodded. “Thank you for taking care of the privacy of my client. Might I ask the evidence you have?” he pondered.

“We are not here to show you the evidence we have. You can see them during the court proceeding,” I gave the lawyer a scathing look. They really thought they could drag us along with their words.

“At least let us know if it is conclusive evidence!” One of them claimed.

“We received a floppy disk with all the information,” I smiled.

“Who sent it?” The lawyer asked, startled.

“Your client. He tried to be stealthy and sent us a package because someone else took his name and sent over the ID of a victim,” Nash informed.

“And that is your evidence? Fabricated evidence in a floppy disk?” the lawyer scoffed.

“You must think we have been eating grass all these years. We found pictures that your client took of the victims. One of the pictures has his feet in frame, too. Add in pictures he took at his house of the other evidence.”

The lawyer choked and looked at the man.

“Mr. Phillips, you might not have known but forensic science and the art of evidence analysis have come a long way since you were in an investigative mode. Even if you delete all the files on a computer or a memory storage system, we have the equipment to retrieve all of them. The floppy disk is also in his name and definitely one taken from the collection in his office. We matched with the equipment records.” I gave all the people in the room a keen look.

A lawyer was about to leave when I stopped them. “Are you going to call someone to clean up your client’s house?” I insinuated.

He frowned.

“It’s no use,” Nash interjected from beside me. “We already received a court order to search his property. They are already at the Director-General’s house, unfortunately,” he announced.

There was pin-drop silence in the room.

“You can’t get a court order this soon!” the head lawyer swore.

“We can. It’s a high-profile case and your client is a flight risk on top of being an influential person who can alter evidence. The judges thought we should keep everything ready for when the time comes.” Nash had played a little trick. I hadn’t been sure if this was going to be done, but Nash had prepared this without me knowing.

And I was thankful for it.

“Billy, it seems that your wife knows already,” I prompted. “I wonder if your son knows as well. Do you think he will come to see you?” The expression in his eyes was complex.

“What kind of mind games are you playing?” Billy yelled.

I looked at the lawyer while ignoring him. “With the evidence on our hand, even if Mr. Phillips doesn’t confess to the crimes or plead guilty, we can prosecute him.” My voice was clear without a shred of doubt. “He has killed dozens of people. And the nature of the killings was brutal. There are no signs of insanity that you can appeal for and he indiscreetly killed children, too.” I gave him a pointed look. “Your client will get the death penalty. Many times over.”

The thing about our state was, they still had the death penalty. I didn’t believe in it, but it was a good tool to get more information out of the criminals.

The lawyer frowned. “I will not allow my client to speak unless we see the evidence,” he announced.

“Very well,” I said pointedly. “We will require to speak to Mr. Phillips’ wife and son about this matter. We will start calling them immediately,” I told him.

The lawyer frowned. “Is there something you want in particular?” he asked. “If there is a deal you want to discuss, tell me.”

“I can’t help you out on a deal, I am not part of the prosecution. But someone who confesses to their crimes and helps abet others gets a lower sentence.” That was all I said. “Mr. Phillips, can you please give us your family members’ active numbers?” I asked.

The man looked up. “I don’t have it,” he said firmly.

“Of course,” I countered. “It’s fine. We will find them out soon enough.”

The lawyer whispered into Billy’s ears and his eyes grew solemn. “Okay,” he said quietly.

The lawyer turned to me. “What is it that Dr. Butler wants?” he asked. “Tell us truthfully and we will try to make it happen.”

Anything for a lowered punishment, huh? They hadn’t even confessed to the crime.

“I want one truthful answer from you, Billy,” I said. My expression was cold as I stared at him. “Where is your son, Benny Phillips, right now?”

The lawyer tensed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“As I said, we need to talk to the family for information, nothing else,” Nash spoke up. He wanted to take the heat off me.

“It sounds like you think he did something wrong,” the lawyer accused.

“I said no such thing,” I countered. “We want to chat with him.”

Billy hung his head. He had watched me to figure out what I knew. He was resigned to the fact that he had been caught. Now the dilemma remained, would he rat his son out? He wasn’t sure I knew it was his son who kidnapped Evie, though. That was what was holding him back.

“If you promise not to arrest him,” he said quietly.

I raised my brow in amusement. I didn’t make a promise, but he spoke nonetheless.

He whispered a location. He sounded truthful.

“Are you sure?” Nash asked all of a sudden. I turned to him. He looked calm, not a flash of emotion on his face.

“Yes,” Billy whispered.

“Thank you for telling us the truth,” Nash complimented. He pulled the cellphone out and showed me the screen. Chase had found the same location.

I breathed in relief.

“I’ll get going,” I whispered.

“Best of luck,” Nash replied, his eyes filled with worry. “Bring her back safely.”

I nodded and I had no idea how, but I was already out of the station, sitting in one of the police cars, driving to the location where Evie was being held.