Autopsy of a Mind

I waited in front of the elevator door for the Director-General to arrive. If the media had seen this scene, they would surely have been thrilled. The man who held the highest authority in the police force in this city was being led out of the elevator, his hands cuffed behind him.

It must have been a spectacular scene because Nash had a gleeful expression on his face as he nudged the man forward. I admit I must have looked rather relieved and ecstatic as well. 

Maybe the world didn't know what he had done yet, therefore they would be shocked that the Director-General was being led around in this manner, but they also knew that both Nash and I worked with violent crimes. That would suffice.

People congregated on the corridors, whispering and pointing and we patiently guided the man to the same interrogation room.

I heard shuffling on the staircase and knew that the little analyst was rushing down it to ensure all the evidence was in our hands when we finally went in.

Indeed, it was him. He was panting from exhaustion when he handed me a thick envelope of photographs. I sighed as I watched Nash pull Billy inside the interrogation room. 

I slipped into the observation room along with the analyst. "Have you ever watched an interrogation happen?" I asked him. 

He shook his head. "I don't have a stomach for dead bodies and scary criminals, so I like finding clues that we can't see with the naked eye. Only on inanimate objects!"

I let out a small laugh, probably for the first time in three days. "You do know that dead bodies are inanimate, too, right?" I joked. 

The analyst's eyes widened comically. "Did he really do it?" he whispered finally.

"You already saw the proof with your own eyes, didn't you?" I asked. "What is your name? I never caught it." I had been calling him 'the analyst' for so long that I felt offended on his behalf.

He blinked. "Chase," he said brightly.

I repeated his name. "You must be wondering why we were in such a hurry to catch him, right? It's because we needed to get him under lock and knee, hopeless about his future." I grinned. I pulled out the evidence bags and showed it to them. "Also, these."

Chase looked at the evidence in fascination. "The phone and the gun?" he whispered. 

"The phone, gun, and identity card. With these, we can guarantee that we have the contact information we need, we have access to all his security files for our inspection, and the gun makes sure he doesn't go ballistic and kill us in the interrogation room."

Chase seemed to be in awe. "You could take away all his things only if he was called into the interrogation room. And you had to arrest him with definite evidence for that or the lawyer would pull tricks out of his ass to bail him out!"

The realization was sweet. "Good job, kid," I praised. "Now, do your magic and find out the frequently called numbers. When you find a number allotted under Billy or his wife's name, call me. It will be a secret number, so be careful no one else finds out what you are doing. And when you get the number, track it. If it is switched off, let me know where the last location it was switched on."

I patted his shoulder. "Are we catching another criminal through this?" he looked mildly panicked. "And isn't this unlawful surveillance if I go through his phone?"

I shook my head. "We have a court order for it. Go ahead, get to it," I prompted.

He left the phone to me and scampered away, probably to bring his equipment. He would make good of watching the interrogation. He knew how high-profile this case was. 

I turned to look inside the interrogation room. Nash had left the room, leaving Billy to his thoughts. I saw him staring at the wall, probably cooking up his alibi, but it was futile. He probably had no idea how much information we had on him.

I heard the door creak open and Nash walked in with his hands inside his pocket.

"How did he react?" I asked enthusiastically. 

"He was flabbergasted that I was cuffing him. He looked like the world was falling apart when I read him the Miranda Rights. He was wondering what we had on him." Nash pointed towards Billy, who was in the room. 

He was uncomfortably shifting in his seat, but he was placing his head down and finding a position, possibly finding a position that made him look most pitiful. 

"Are we going to wait until the lawyer comes around or start grilling him immediately?" Nash asked after a moment of silence. 

"We'll start before the lawyer arrives. I am compiling the photographs and how they are different. All the evidence we have to make him look helpless. Then I want to talk about his family life. Bring in the fact that he hasn't seen his wife in a while or his son and what they must think."

Nash nodded. "If it doesn't work out, we can appeal to the lawyer to entice him. If his attitude towards his son isn't pristine and loving, we can use bait and tell him to give us a location to reduce the chances of a death sentence, what do you think?"

That was the best course of action. "Let's do that," I responded confidently. "Let's get into the interrogation room and get the truth out of him, now!"

We waited until Chase was inside the room and set up. "I asked the tracking expert to access my computer. We will be working simultaneously, Dr. Butler." Chase grinned. 

"Great. Can you crack this within an hour?" I inquired. 

"It's possible. Usually, civilian phones are easy to track. If it is a burner phone, we can try some new methods. Don't worry, Dr. Butler, please focus on the interrogation." He smiled widely. 

"I'll let you do your work then," I acknowledged with a hint of a plea. I had never imagined such a day would come, but I wasn't ashamed of praising and asking for favors. My eyes were open and I knew I couldn't have solved the case in such a short time without the help of a team. They had kept me grounded and stable. I would have fallen apart and gone off into wild goose chases otherwise. 

I sucked in a deep breath before I walked into the interrogation room. Nash closed the door behind him and we were finally seated properly.

There was no hostility in our stance. Only, this time, the rules of interrogation were followed. We told him all his rights and seated ourselves opposite him. There was a clear distinction between us.

The worst part, his eyes flickered to the door. He would need to cross us to reach it.

"Billy," Nash began. "Are you clear on your rights?" he asked. 

"I am not talking before my lawyer comes. You have no evidence to arrest me for the murder of that girl."

I scoffed. "You seem to be mistaken. You have not been arrested for the murder of Lee Yunxi. And what makes you think we will be mighty enough to place our hands on the all-powerful Director-General without solid proof?"

Billy broke out into laughter, it was the kind of maniacal laughter that one expected from a villain. I looked at this man's face carefully. I had seen pictures of him in his prime. He had looked average at best, with wide-set shoulders and a muscular body. But he had not been a head-turner. His wife, on the other hand, was a delicate beauty with a high-paying job in the private sector. She had been retired for a number of years, opting to stay home and support her husband's career. It was also around this time that the murders had stopped happening. 

Without feeling inferior to his wife and holding such a high position, he no longer needed to kill people. He was satisfied with his life and the power he held over others. Possibly, the activities of his son had agitated him. Or maybe it had made him proud that his son was following in his footsteps.

But this man, this old man… his hair was white with a large bald patch at the center of his head. He had no charisma and his brows had a particular evil look to them. I was not a man who looked at people and deemed them criminals, but this man fit the stereotype of a sexually and power-motivated serial killer. Right down to the arch of his brown.

"I have worked in this field long enough to call on your bluff. You are running out on time before my lawyer arrives so you are planting the seed of doubt in my head, right?" he chortled. 

"Indeed, Billy Phillips knows how it works. You have handled so many confidential cases and helped brush so many crimes aside that you are not scared of coming out of this without your good name. You are confident and that is good," I prompted. 

Nash, who was sitting beside me, was silent as he crossed his leg over the other and watched intently.

"But I wonder if the media will think the same," I injected. His eyes turned sharp and a small frown pressed on his lips. "I assume you called your lawyer but never spoke to your wife and son. Every police officer in the building knows what happened to you… do you think the media will be held back? The articles will come out in a few minutes and every one your wife and son know will call and text them asking what was happening. They will find out in the most unpleasant way that their family's Billy Phillips brutally raped and murdered women and their families." I clucked my tongue.

I could see the panic on his face. A man could be indifferent to being punished. Yet he loved his family in some demented way. He wouldn't want to hurt them so deeply.

Billy Phillips, what will you choose?