He opened a door. “That’s the least of her worries. If she can’t prove she has legal custody of Elena, she’s facing transporting a minor over state lines, which is a felony.”
“She’s been around the block enough to know what that means.” Bonnie would not see daylight for two decades if both those convictions held. “That kind of time might get her to open up about the pickle jar and Elena’s family.”
“That’s the plan,” Ramsey said.
“Do you want to take point in the interview?”
“You’re being polite. You want it,” he said.
“FBI trumps TBI, and my boss told me to play nice. But yes, I want first crack at Bonnie Guthrie.”
“She’s all yours then.”
They were met by a deputy who escorted them to an interview room furnished with two chairs in front of a glass partition. They each took a seat. When Melina heard the rattle of cuffs and keys on the other side of the door, she sat straighter, feeling an odd sense of nerves.
The door opened to a guard escorting a female inmate dressed in an orange jumpsuit. Her hands were cuffed in front of her while her head was high, with no signs of contrition in her direct gaze. Blond shoulder-length hair draped over narrow shoulders, the edges reaching the top of full breasts.
Bonnie approached the chair and looked first at Ramsey. She did not appear impressed and slowly shifted her gaze to Melina. A flicker of interest darkened the woman’s green eyes, and a crooked smile tugged the edge of her lips. She sat down, leaned back in her chair, and folded her hands in her lap.
“You two don’t look like local cops. TBI?” she asked Melina.
Ramsey answered. “FBI special agent Jerrod Ramsey.”
“And you, doll? You FBI, too?”
A grating sense of familiarity scratched the underside of Melina’s skin. “Agent Melina Shepard. Tennessee Bureau of Investigation.”
Bonnie’s head cocked as she studied Melina’s face. “Melina. That’s an unusual name.”
“Really?” Melina asked. “I never gave any thought to it.” But of course, she had thought about her name a great deal. The night she met her father, he had asked her name. Melina. It was the one link she had to her past.
Bonnie’s smile widened as she settled back in the chair. “I used to know a kid named Melina. But that was a long time ago.”
Most would not consider Bonnie beautiful, but she was striking. Square jaw, sharp nose, and full lips that curled into a wide smile.
Tension coiled in Melina’s belly as she stared at Bonnie’s face. It was unsettlingly familiar. She suddenly had no patience for nice words or rapport building. “You were driving a 2007 gray Ford sedan.”
“Was I?” Bonnie asked.
“We pulled your prints from the underside of a child’s car seat,” Melina said.
“Did you?” Bonnie had played this game so many times she could keep this going for hours.
Melina was not known for her patience. “Can you tell me how you came by the pickle jar?”
“What pickle jar, honey?” Bonnie asked.
Melina sighed. “The pickle jar in the trunk of the car you wrecked on Cox Road on Monday afternoon. We found it and the little girl strapped in her car seat.”
Bonnie shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The prints found on the underside of the car seat match those belonging to Bonnie Lynn Guthrie. The officers here identified you by your prints. You’re one and the same Bonnie Lynn Guthrie.”
Bonnie glanced at her long nails, painted a dark red. The ring finger and thumbnails were chipped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I think I’m entitled to a lawyer, if I’m not mistaken?”
“The county has contacted a lawyer,” Ramsey said. “He should be here soon.”
“Well, doll, I tell you what. Why don’t you come back and see me when I have my lawyer? Not smart to talk to the cops without one.” She wagged an index finger at them. “You folks can be so sneaky. Can take my words and twist them all around.”
“We’ve already identified the prints on two of the fingers of the murderer’s victims,” Melina said. “It’s a matter of time before we identify the others, but two will convict just fine.”
Some of the humor dimmed in Bonnie’s gaze. Absently, she clicked nail against nail and stared back.
“Your prints are also on the jar,” Melina lied.
Bonnie smiled as she rose. “I think it’s time we ended our little chat.”
“Where did you get the credit cards?” Melina asked.
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The card you gave the bartender was stolen, but it’s not been reported yet. The name on the card is Jennifer Brown.”
“You can keep talking all you want,” Bonnie said, “but I don’t have anything to say.”
“You haven’t asked about Elena,” Melina said. “She’s been asking for you, BB.”
This time her smile looked more pained than amused. “I don’t know an Elena.”
“Elena is small for her age. And when you see her lying in her hospital bed holding that stuffed dog, it’s kind of heartbreaking,” Melina said.
Tension stiffened Bonnie’s shoulders, but Melina sensed it had nothing to do with missing the girl. Bonnie was worried about what the girl would say.
“I don’t know any kid named Elena.” Bonnie pounded on the door.
“She’s been talking about Sonny.”
Bonnie shook her head. “Sorry, can’t help you.”
“DNA will tell us if you and Elena are related, but I’d say not.”
Bonnie faced the door but did not speak.
“If you can walk away from Elena this easily, makes me think you have a habit of leaving children. What other children have you abandoned?” Melina wanted to worm her way under Bonnie’s skin so that she would drop her guard just for a second or two.
Bonnie slowly turned and studied Melina with narrowing eyes. Then very slowly the smile returned. “Baby, sounds like you aren’t talking about Elena anymore, are you?”
The room felt as if it had dropped from underneath her feet. An unwanted edge crept into her tone. “Who would I be talking about?”
“I don’t know, baby. You tell me.”
“Did you wreck your car intentionally?” Melina asked.
“Who would do such a thing?”
The guard opened the door and Bonnie stepped through it, glancing back and winking at Melina before she vanished. The door slammed behind her.
Melina sat back in her chair, her fingers curling into fists. “Don’t say it.”
“Say what?” Ramsey asked.
“I let my personal feelings get the better of me,” she said.
“Maybe. But you did get under Bonnie’s skin. Tension in the eyes and a slight flattening of her lips suggested stress.”
“She looked pretty comfortable to me,” she said.
“BB puts on a good show. That’s what she does for a living.”
“She can try to look as cool as possible, but she won’t be able to talk her way out of forensic evidence. We have her prints on the car seat but not on the steering wheel or front seat. There’s also credit card fraud.”
“That should be enough to hold her,” Ramsey said. “But I’ve been surprised by judges before. She’s safer in jail right now,” he said. “One thing to sell out a kid. Quite another to betray a serial killer.”
As Ramsey and Shepard retrieved their weapons from the jailhouse lockers, he glanced down at her. Her lips were compressed, and her brow was knotted. As she shoved her gun in its holster, he was close enough to see the fast pulse of her carotid artery. She was still shaken by her encounter with Bonnie.
He opened the door for her and followed her across the lobby to the front steps. “Bonnie Guthrie has returned to Nashville not just because of Sonny, but because she has been here before. She’s familiar with Nashville.”
Though Shepard’s face appeared outwardly stoic, he noted the microexpressions, the shift of her stance and her breathing, which all pointed toward her unsettledness.
“I agree,” she said.
“We can assume she has been using Elena as a means to an end. The child is likely a good distraction that enables Bonnie to manipulate and steal. She might also have some kind of appeal for Sonny.”
She raised her chin a fraction. “Agreed.”
“Bonnie tilted her head to the left slightly when you mentioned Elena’s name. She knows the girl, but she’s calculating if the child is still of use to her.”
Shepard removed her sunglasses from her backpack and slid them on. “No argument here.”
“Bonnie has used other children just as she has Elena. Do you think Sonny might have been one of those kids?”
“It’s very possible.”
“The mother figure is a powerful force in a child’s life, and children naturally want to please,” Ramsey said.
Shepard remained silent.
Ramsey added, “Bonnie pointed out that your name is unusual.”
“I picked up on that. She was trying to get into my head. She’s not the first.”
“I can dance around this a little longer, but I don’t have the patience.” He dropped his voice a notch. “Is there any way you and Bonnie are connected from back in the day? Was she the woman who left you on the side of the road?”
Shepard stared at him from behind her dark glasses. “I don’t know. Maybe.”