Chapter 26 THE INTERROGATION
\[MARCUS POV\]
I’ve been friends with Aria for about half a dozen years.
Handled cases together - relied on her gut every time. Saw her grow into a top-notch investigator, no doubt about it.
But this?
This one took me by surprise.
We’re sitting in the conference room - just me, Aria, and then Sarah Chen shows up, followed by Maya Ford.
The door is shut. While the blinds are pulled down.
I’ve laid the file across the table - photos sitting next to it, notes tucked underneath, a pen resting just above. Each piece is placed without order, yet somehow makes sense. Nothing’s labeled, still everything feels connected. Like they’re meant to line up this way.
"Walk me through this," I say. "From the beginning."
Aria pauses, then inhales slowly.
"Three months ago. Room 406. I found a pen at the crime scene. Silver Montblanc. Engraved. I recognized it immediately."
"Because?"
"Because I gave it to Ethan. Two years ago. For his first book deal."
Sarah leans forward.
"You took it? Without logging it?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I didn't want to believe it was his."
Maya’s keeping an eye out, arms folded tight - she stays quiet. Yet her stare says plenty.
"What happened next?" I ask.
"I started noticing things. The victims showed up in his social media photos. Months before they died. The murder locations were near places he goes regularly."
"That's not proof," Sarah says.
"I know. But then there were the origami birds. He makes them. All the time. Same folds. Same style."
"Lots of people know origami," Maya says.
"Not like this. There's a specific imperfection. Left wing. Every bird at every crime scene has it. And every bird he makes has it too."
I wipe my hands across my cheeks.
"Why didn't you come to me with this?"
"Because I wasn't sure. Because I love him. Because I thought maybe I was seeing things that weren't there."
"And now?"
She looks at the pen.
"Last night I confronted him. He showed me his pen. From his desk. Same engraving. Same everything. Made me think I was wrong."
"But?"
"I examined both pens this morning. The one from the crime scene is old. Scratched. Used. The one he showed me is new. He replaced it. Bought a new one. Had it engraved. So he could make me doubt myself."
Sarah grabs the pen. She checks it out in the light.
"She's right. This pen's been used for years. You can see the wear."
I lean back.
"So Ethan Cross. Crime novelist. Your fiancé. It is possibly the Origami Killer."
"Yes."
"Based on a pen, some photos, and origami birds."
"And James Reynolds."
"The journalist?"
"He's been investigating Ethan for weeks. Following him. Documenting everything. He has footage of Ethan near crime scenes. Photos. Timelines."
"Why didn't he come to us?"
"Because he wanted proof. Because he's—"
She stops.
“What do you mean?” Maya says.
Aria hesitates.
"He's not normal. He's cold. Detached. He knew Captain Ford was going to die and he didn't stop it."
"Why not?"
"Because he said he needed to be sure. Needed the full sequence."
I stand up.
"So we've got one suspect who's your fiancé. And another suspect who's a journalist with a God complex."
"James isn't the killer."
"How do you know?"
"Because he doesn't kill. He just watches."
"That's almost worse," Sarah says.
Maya stands.
"I want to talk to both of them. Ethan Cross and James Reynolds. Today."
"We need warrants—" I start.
"I don't care about warrants. My sister's dead. And one of these men killed her."
"We do this by the book," I say. "Or we do nothing."
Maya glares at me.
"Then get me a warrant."
I phoned the DA. I tell them what’s going on - piece by piece. First, the pen. Then, those pictures. Plus, all that indirect proof is stacking up.
She's not convinced.
"You need more, Detective. A pen that may or may not be his? Photos where victims happen to be in the background? That's not enough for a warrant."
"What about bringing them in for questioning?"
"You can ask. But they can refuse. And if they lawyer up, you're done."
"So what do we do?"
"Keep investigating. Find something concrete. Then come back to me."
I hang up.
Look at Aria.
"No warrant. Not yet. But we can bring them in. Ask questions. See if they cooperate."
"Start with James," Aria says.
"Why him first?"
"Because Ethan will know something's wrong if I'm not home. James lives alone. No one's watching him."
"Alright. Where is he?"
"I have his address."
We head over to James’s place - just me, Aria, and Sarah along. Maya? She sticks around at the station instead.
1247 Ashford Street - Apartment 3 B.
We pull up. Then off we go.
Aria takes us toward the structure. She does it just like last time. Gets the exit right as a person walks out.
We head up the stairs.
Upstairs on the third level. At the far side of the corridor.
I knock.
"James Reynolds? Police. We need to talk."
Nothing.
I knock again.
Still nothing.
Aria tries the handle.
Locked.
"He's not here," she says.
"Or he's not answering."
Sarah grabs her phone. Then she dials dispatch.
"Run a plate for me. James Reynolds. Ashford Street."
She waits.
"Dark sedan. Toyota Camry. Registered to Reynolds."
"Where is it now?"
"Checking traffic cams."
We wait.
"Got it. Heading west on the highway. Forty minutes ago."
I glance at Aria.
"Where's he going?"
"I don't know."
"Does he know we're coming?"
"I don't think so."
"Then why's he running?"
Nobody answers.
Besides, everybody gets it.
Some flee because they feel responsible.
Like if they’re afraid.
We head back to the station.
Maya's waiting.
"Where is he?"
"Gone. Left forty minutes ago. Heading west."
"Put out a BOLO. I want him found."
“Did it already,” Sarah says.
I take a seat. Then I glance over at Aria.
"What about Ethan?"
"What about him?"
"Where is he right now?"
She grabs her phone. Then look at it.
"Home. He texted an hour ago. Said he's writing."
"You believe him?"
"I don't know."
"We need to talk to him."
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
"Because if we spook him, he'll run too. Or lawyer up. And then we lose any chance of getting the truth."
"So what do we do?"
"We find James first. Make him talk. Get his evidence. Then we go after Ethan."
Maya gives a quick no with her head.
"This is a mess."
"I know."
"My sister's dead because you didn't come forward sooner."
Aria glances over, eyes meeting hers.
"I know."
"If we lose them both—"
"We won't."
"You'd better hope not. Because if we do, I'm coming for you."
My phone rings.
Dispatch.
"Detective Hale?"
"Yeah."
"We've got a hit on the Camry. Pulled over at a rest stop. Thirty miles west."
"Is he still there?"
"Patrol's on site now. They're approaching the vehicle."
"Tell them to hold him. We're on our way."
I hang up.
"Let's go. They found him."
We go to the parking area - climb into my ride.
Drive.
Aria’s being silent. She gazes outside the glass.
You good? I wonder.
"No."
"This isn't your fault."
"Isn't it?"
"You were trying to protect someone you love. That's human."
"Captain Ford's dead because I waited too long."
"You don't know that."
"Yes, I do."
I don't argue.
Becoming she could have a point.
We get to the break area half an hour after that.
One squad car here. Another one nearby - both with lights spinning in the dark.
James’s Camry is sitting by the bathrooms.
A cop moves closer.
"Detective Hale?"
"Yeah. Where is he?"
"Inside. Men's room. He's not coming out."
"Did you try talking to him?"
"Yes. He said he'll only talk to Detective Kane."
I glance over at Aria.
She gives a quick nod - then steps outside.
We go after her into the room.
The bathroom’s tiny - just three stalls. One sink works, maybe two. Lights hum overhead, flickering a bit. Smells like old cleaning spray.
James hangs out in the backmost cubicle. The entrance’s shut.
"James?" Aria says.
"Detective Kane."
"Come out. We need to talk."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because if I do, you'll arrest me."
"I'm not arresting you. I just want to talk."
"You brought backup. That's not talking."
"Because I don't trust you."
Silence.
Next thing you know, the door swings wide.
James steps out.
He seems worn out. Kinda ghostly. His hands won’t stop trembling.
Nothing like the past. Restless now. No grip on things.
He looks scared.
"I didn't kill anyone," he says.
"I know."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because you ran. And people who run usually have something to hide."
"I ran because he knows."
"Who knows?"
"Ethan. He knows I've been following him. He knows I have evidence. He's going to come after me."
"How do you know?"
James grabs his phone. Then he shows her a message on it.
You ought to have kept away from it, James - though now you’re right in the middle.
No figure. Simply the note.
"When did you get this?"
"This morning. Four a.m."
Aria turns her eyes toward me.
"That's right after I left the apartment."
"So?"
"So Ethan was awake. He knew I was gone. And he sent James a message."
James stashes his phone aside.
"I'm not safe. Neither are you. He's going to kill again. Soon."
"Who?"
"I don't know. But he's accelerating. Getting bold. The next one's going to be public. Loud. A message."
"What kind of message?"
James glances over toward her.
"That he's in control. That he always has been. That no one can stop him."
"We can stop him."
"Can you?"
She doesn't answer.
She becomes unsure.