Drex had been unable to explain that. She refrained from answering.
Rudkowski cupped his ear. “Come again? I didn’t catch that,” he mocked.
“See what I’m getting at, Mrs. Ford? Easton makes up stuff to support his crazy notions. His claims of a serial killer have no basis, and never have.” He poked his index finger against his temple. “He’s nuts. He’s obsessed with a bogeyman of his own invention.”
She leaned away from him and gave him an unhurried once-over. “Then why are you so unstrung?”
He blinked. “Pardon?”
“I don’t understand your agitation. If you believe that Drex is a mental case, why haven’t you dismissed his wild hares as such, and gone on about your business?”
“Because he’s impeding my investigation.”
“Excuse me,” she said coolly, “but from my perspective, it seems you’ve contributed very little to the investigation of Elaine Conner’s murder and the search for my husband, whether he’s dead or alive, innocent or guilty. By contrast, you’ve spent a great deal of time pursuing Drex and deriding him at every opportunity. If anyone has an obsession, Special Agent Rudkowski, it appears to be you.”
Menundez snickered.
Rudkowski’s whole body inflated with indignation. His forehead broke a greasy sweat. He pushed off the table and, placing his hands on his knees, bent down until his face was level with hers. “You had better watch it, Mrs. Ford, or Shafer, or whatever you choose to be called. I’ll put you in lockup until you decide to cooperate.”
“How could I possibly be more cooperative? I came here of my own volition.”
“But you haven’t answered my question.”
“Which one?”
Rudkowski returned to his full height. “Where is Easton?”
With a pleasant smile, she said, “Right behind you.”
Chapter 36
Drex had arrived in time to overhear Talia’s putdown of Rudkowski. Based on his apparent choler, she had effectively fired him up to his pressure-cooker state. From the threshold, he said, “You sound out of sorts, Bill. We could hear you from the end of the hall.”
Locke nudged Drex into the room and closed the door behind them. He asked Menundez if he’d shared with Rudkowski the autopsy report on Marian Harris.
“Not yet. I saved Easton the honor.” The younger detective produced the report and passed it to Drex. “I circled the notation in red.”
“Thanks.”
Rudkowski shouldered between them and snatched the printout from Drex. “You’re under arrest. I’m considering booking her, too.”
Talia uttered a sound of dismay. “What for?”
“Leaving official custody without permission. Obstruction of justice.”
Locke and Menundez began protesting, but Drex talked over them. “You’re not going to arrest Talia,” he said. “Stop being a jackass and read that.”
With impatience, Rudkowski slid on a pair of reading glasses and homed in on the marked spot. “A button was missing off her blouse. So what?”
“So…” Locke proficiently explained its relevance. “This links that Florida cold case to our two here.” Menundez also had printouts of the other two reports and showed Rudkowski the notations about the missing buttons.
Rudkowski removed his glasses and said, “Well, it’s a commonality that warrants further investigation. But it could also be a coincidence.”
“Our chief of police doesn’t think it is,” Locke said. “Neither does the sheriff’s office, the state police, or the local FBI agents working the Elaine Conner case, or the SAC in Columbia.”
Rudkowski said, “You went over my head and talked to him before bringing this to me?”
“We couldn’t find you,” Menundez said, deadpan. “You must’ve been in the john.”