She wrote,
Sonia asked Kirsten. “Do you know where he took you?”
She either didn’t understand the question or didn’t know.
“Did someone force you to do things you didn’t want to do?”
Kirsten frowned. She grabbed the marker and wrote,
Sonia wanted to cry, but let the fury rage instead.
“No, you’re not,” she told Kirsten. “You never have to do that again. You understand?
Dean put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. His support meant everything to Sonia, but right now all she wanted was to destroy the people who subjected innocent girls like Kirsten to sexual abuse.
Dr. Miller entered the room. “You’re not tiring her out, are you?”
“No. She speaks French and Dutch,” Sonia said. “She’s from Suriname, a small country in northern South America originally a Dutch settlement.”
“You did good, Ann.” He smiled.
“Her name is Kirsten.”
“Kirsten,” he said. He added in French, “Beautiful.”
The girl lit up. Though Sonia had found Dr. Miller cold, he’d warmed up around Kirsten.
“I have some more questions,” Sonia said. “This really will help us find out who did this.”
“All right, but don’t distress her. I want to kill the creep who did this to her.” His voice was calm, but his words were clear. “The man was a brute. Huge.”
“How can you tell?”
“Other than the internal damage? The marks on her neck. He had fingers like sausages.”
Sonia showed her the last picture she had. Johan Krueger, the man who had tried to kill her while she lay unconscious. “Do you recognize him?”
She pointed and her eyes watered.
“Did he do this?” Sonia gestured to Kirsten’s neck.
Kirsten grabbed the whiteboard and wrote frantically. Sonia wasn’t sure she translated it right, but said to Dean, “He didn’t try to kill her, but he did something else.” To Kirsten, “What did he do?”
Kirsten was frustrated, erased her words and thought, then drew a crude picture of a bird.
“A bird?”
“Helicopter,” Dean said. “Ask her if she came to Sacramento in a helicopter or plane.”
“Did this man fly you? Take you in a plane?” When Kirsten looked at her quizzically, Sonia said, “Did you fly in the air? Was this man a pilot? Or did he come with you?”
She wrote in French:
“Did he hurt your neck?”
Dean said, “Sonia, the river victim.”
“I can’t show her that picture.”
“You have to. He’s connected to Jones as well. He’s big with large hands.”
Sonia didn’t want to show Kirsten the dead man’s photo, but the girl was strong and wanted to help. Sonia said to Kirsten, “The next picture might upset you. The man is dead. He doesn’t look right, okay? I want to show it to you, but be strong.”
Dean handed her the crime-scene photo.
The recognition was instant. Her eyes widened and she nodded and pointed.
“Kirsten, calm down,” Dr. Miller took her hand and petted it. “Shh, you don’t want to hurt yourself.”
Sonia reiterated what Miller said, then added, “He hurt you?”
She wrote:
Sonia asked Dean, “Did the autopsy report any scratches or injuries to the victim?”
“I haven’t seen the report. I’ll call.”
He stepped from the room, and Dr. Miller said, “Your crime-scene gal, Ms. Charles, took a rape kit that included scrapings from under Kirsten’s fingernails.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Sonia said. “We might have something to compare it with.”
“He’s dead?”
“Yes. He was found in the river yesterday.”
“Apropos. I hope he suffered.”
* * *
Noel Marchand was not pleased with being interrupted while he meditated. He didn’t ask for much from his staff: competence, loyalty, and peace. He rarely got what he wanted.
“What is it now?”
Mr. Ling said, “Raul is on the phone. He is at the hospital and hasn’t seen Agent Knight. Wasn’t able to find the brother, either. I called and Riley Knight was released at one A.M.”
Noel tensed. “Are you certain?”
“Yes. Raul then checked the residences, and all are empty-no one home. He’s watching, but he’d like direction.”
“The kid is first. He’s always been first. He needs to be dead. Where is the fucking kid?” Raul was his best sniper, had served him well over the years, and he’d called him in last night specifically to kill Sonia Knight. But the kid could identify him, and that would not do. Until Noel was safely back in Tres Palos, or the kid was dead, he couldn’t be certain the kid wasn’t a risk.
Anyone who escaped was a potential danger to his organization. Look at that bitch Sonia Knight.
“The kid is the priority. But he needs to be prepared to take care of Agent Knight on my command.”
“Are you sure-”
Noel looked at Mr. Ling. He didn’t have to say a word, but Ling understood.
“Yes, Mr. Marchand. I’ll let Raul know.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Dean wasn’t one hundred percent confident that letting Sonia interview Johan Krueger was the best use of their time. Krueger hadn’t talked to anyone but his attorney since he was arrested, not even a word to his cell mate. But Sonia was adamant that she must see him.
“I can get him to talk,” she vowed. “He used a knife from Argentina, just like Vega’s killer. He brought Kirsten to Sacramento to be killed for the sick pleasure of that bastard in the morgue. I just wish he’d suffered a hell of a lot more.”
Sonia was highly stressed. Dean suspected it had more to do with the photograph of her biological father and Kirsten’s comment about being a whore. Sonia was taking it personally. Sometimes, cops who put themselves in the victim’s shoes ended up turning the case for the good. Other times, it ate them alive.
Dean didn’t want Sonia hurt anymore. While there was no doubt in his mind that she could handle anything life threw at her, he wanted to keep her safe. She was well-trained and sharp. Smart. But this case had gotten too personal for her to be wholly objective.
Krueger was brought into the interview room of the county jail.
He sat down and stared blankly at the wall behind Sonia.
She introduced herself and said, “Mr. Krueger, the charges against you are serious, and I have additional charges that my office will be bringing.”
No reaction.
“The girl you tried to kill Wednesday night at Sutter Hospital? She’s awake. She’s talking. And she pointed a finger at
