“What about your investigation?” Denson asked, confused. “You think I’m gonna let you pick my brain so you can—”
“We’re investigating you, Detective Denson.”
“Me?”
Hotchner’s hands went to his hips, elbows winged. “You haven’t been entirely forthcoming with us.”
“Why should I be?”
“Thing is, in keeping things from us, Detective, you’ve helped us develop a suspect.”
“I have? Who?”
Several seconds passed before he realized that everyone in the room was staring at him. “Me?”
“You lied to us,” Hotchner said.
“Like hell I did!”
“Casey Goddard was a babysitter for your family.”
Denson swallowed. “Not telling you that doesn’t make me a liar.”
Rossi asked him, “Would you let a perp get away with that line of bull?”
Denson turned toward Rossi.
But it was Prentiss who spoke: “Didn’t your mother ever tell you a sin of omission is the same as a lie?”
Denson spun toward her.
Only Reid commented next: “Holding that back makes you seem like someone with something to hide.”
Denson swivelled to face Reid.
Then Morgan, shaking his head, said, “I can’t believe we haven’t busted your damn ass already.”
Denson’s final turn had brought him back to his initial position. No one said anything else but all of their eyes were on him and his hands went to either side of his head like he was trying to hold his skull together.
“All right, goddamnit—I lovedher!”
If Denson was expecting looks of revulsion, he didn’t get any. The profilers were studying him, yes, but clinically.
And Hotchner pulled out a chair for him and the detective finally sat.
“She wasn’t underage or anything. It wasn’t like that. We’d known her for years, she was my kids’ babysitter since she was in junior high, and was like… like one of the family. I went through a rough patch of drinking and running around, and finally my wife asked me for a divorce. Before my wife moved out, with the kids, Casey was still baby-sitting for us. This one night, I drove her home and she knew I was upset about something and we sat and talked and… I guess she’d had a secret crush on me or some such, because it… it turned into something.”
Hotchner asked, “Did your wife know?”
“No. Christ, if she had, she’d have used it to beat me up even worse in the divorce.”
“How about the girl’s parents? Did they know?”
“I don’t think so.”
Morgan moved in. “How about the other girl? How about Donna, did sheknow? Is that why you killed them both?”
“No! Hell, no.” Denson was shaking his head, furiously. “I didn’t kill either of them. I toldyou.… I loved Casey. When my wife moved out, Casey and me, we started sneaking around, because she was still in high school at the time, and her parents would’ve gone ape shit, and who could blame them? Finally she got tired of me, I guess… novelty wore off. I think I’d have stayed with her forever, if she’d’ve had me. All in all, it lasted maybe… six months.”
Hotchner said, “She didn’t love you, anymore. But you still loved her?”
Denson shook his head. “No. No, I’d moved on, too. I wasn’t some old perv stalking her, if that’s what you mean.”
“And you tried to keep us out of the Bangs Lake investigation so we wouldn’t turn this up?”
“Maybe. Maybe that was part of it.” He looked up helplessly at Hotchner, then his eyes searched out every other face. “But mostly I wanted to solve this thing, solve it myself! Why do you think I’ve been working so hard? I want to get the bastard that did this awful thing to that lovely, lovely girl.”
And he hunched over and cried. He didn’t even bother bringing up his hands to cover his face or catch the tears. He just sat there and wept.
Finally Hotchner said, “Go home.”
“What?”
“While we’re wasting our time with you, we’re losing ground to the real killer.”
“You… you believe me?”
Morgan said, “Shouldn’t we?”
But Hotchner was shaking his head. “I don’t believe you and I don’t disbelieve you. We’ll check out your story. But if you’re on the level, and all you want is Casey’s killer to be brought to justice, here’s what you’re going to do.”
“Anything,” Denson said.
“First, you’re off the case. Second, you convince your chief to share all information that you and anyone else on the Wauconda PD have gathered on this. Then your chief is to send someone over to join our task force. Not you—someone else.”
“I’m the one that knows the case!”
Hotchner’s smile was like a cut on his face that had refused to heal. “You’re still a suspect, and we have a policy here at the BAU—suspects don’t work on the investigation.”
Morgan said, “If you’re looking for a choice, we could lock you up till this thing’s over.”
Denson sighed. “I’ll do everything you said. I’ll cooperate fully. You have my word. Just… just catch the son of a bitch.”
Rossi said, “You have our word. We will.”
When Denson had gone, Hotchner wheeled to Jareau. “Get SAIC Himes to give us bumper-lock surveillance on our fellow law enforcer, Detective Denson. I want to know his whereabouts twenty-four/seven.”
Jareau nodded, cell phone out already, and headed off.
Rossi was frowning. “You think our friend from Wauconda is the UnSub?"
Hotchner breathed deep. “We’ll tail him as such. Who knows? Maybe we’ll save him from himself.”
Chapter Eight
August 6 Chicago, Illinois
Here and there around the conference room table, the BAU team members were lost in their individual pursuits, heads buried in evidence, reports, laptops, crime scene photos. They’d had scant sleep since their interview with Denson, but with the addition of the information from the Wauconda crimes, they should now have a bigger knowledge base to work with. And—a basic tenet of profiling—the more information you have, the more accurate your profile.
Despite these long hours, and mainlining coffee to keep going, they had renewed energy, knowing that they had more information on the two women.
Problem was, for Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan, this so-called new information wasn’t helping. The Wauconda police, despite Denson’s avowed constant attention to the case, appeared to know little more than the BAU team.
“I’ve read the file cover to cover,” Morgan said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure Denson isn’t still our best suspect. He hasn’t dug up anything we didn’t already know.”
Reid leaned back in his chair and gave Morgan narrow-eyed regard. “I noticed that, as well. But I had the opposite reaction.”
“How so?”
“If Denson wasthe killer? He could have planted false evidence and red herrings. He could have even used the report to build a frame for another suspect. These files, and the report he wrote up for us, are scant but accurate. I believe he’s telling the truth.”
Prentiss said, “Reid makes a good point.”
“Or,” Rossi said, “Denson could be withholding evidence.”
Morgan frowned. “Because he’s our UnSub?"
Rossi shrugged facially. “Possibly. Or because he still wants to wage this investigation himself, as a vendetta.”
But Hotchner was shaking his head. “It doesn’t mean anything one way or the other at this juncture. We’ve still got to work the case as if he’s a suspect.”
Morgan glanced at Hotch. “As if… ? Does that mean you agree with Reid that Denson’s telling the truth?”