But the more she tried to make it fit, the psychology didn’t add up.
“This isn’t a one-off binge,” she said. “This is drinking to oblivion. To get to this level, he must do this nightly.”
“But Ella, he wasn’t this bad back at his house. That means he was drinking heavily just before we got there. It’s finally catching up to him. He could have killed Irene Quimby, then got hammered.”
“Or it’s because he downed a fifth of bourbon while we were there. You saw him do it.”
“Let’s just wait and see. Once he sobers up, we could probably coerce a confession out of him,” Reed said.
Jesse Perry began to murmur. “Where am I?”
“Lancaster Police precinct,” Ella said. “You’re being held under suspicion of murder.”
The prisoner buried his head in his hands and began to whimper. Ella couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. His hands trembled like leaves in a gale, the symptoms of extreme alcoholism. Not just drunkenness, but a body that had come to rely on booze to function.
Again, the psychology didn’t add up. It was clear that Jesse Perry loved his wife deeply, so he’d be taken by women that resembled her or shared her common traits. Why would he try to recreate her death scene over and over again? To harness some control over it? To eliminate those who experienced the life his wife couldn’t?
Jesse Perry was a hermit who locked himself away for the safety of others. Whoever their unsub was, he was killing these women because they surrogated for a woman he hated, not a woman he loved. They’d got this backwards, Ella could feel it in her gut. Their unsub was meticulous and calculated, and Jesse Perry looked like he hadn’t had a rational thought in years. Could this really be the same person who’d conducted a complex killing spree based on a mathematical sequence that also referenced a tool used in surgical procedures?
Ella knew the answer in her heart. The battle between rationale and emotion reared its head again, but this time – even in her partner’s presence – emotion had to take pole position.
“Guys, could I have a minute alone with Jesse? I just need to ask him something.”
Paige and Reed didn’t look happy. This was the second time she’d done this in as many days.
“Alright, but fill us in this time, won’t you?” Paige said.
“I will.”
Her companions left the holding cells. Now it was just Ella and Jesse in this vast corridor.
“Jesse. It’s just me and you.”
He sat on the bench, looking blankly at the wall ahead. Ella wasn’t sure if this was the best idea, but she’d be damned if she was going to let a man go punished for a crime he didn’t commit.
“I need to talk about your wife,” Ella said.
And just like that, Jesse began crying again. Ella sympathized, but she didn’t have time for this.
She kicked the iron bars with a deafening clang, grabbed them and rattled like hell.
“For God’s sake, stop crying and pay attention! Do you want to get out of here or not?”
It did the trick.
“What about her?” he said, pulling stray hairs out of his beard.
“You loved her, right?”
“Dumb question.”
“Just answer!”
“Why? I’m going to jail whatever happens.”
“I’m asking you this not as an FBI agent, but as someone who lost the closest person in their life too. You loved your wife, yes?”
“Yes I did.”