“Who told you to come to my house?” she asked.
Clamping his mouth shut, he ducked his head and began to rock back and forth like a fidgety little boy, making Jonah fear he might lapse into a psychotic episode.
“Dean?” she pressed. “Will you answer me?”
“I can’t.”
She bent to see his face. “Why not?”
“I—I can’t tell you that, either,” he mumbled.
“We’re trying to help you. You understand that, don’t you?” Jonah said.
“No.” His sulky response was also childlike.
“It’s true,” Francesca said. “If you don’t talk, I’m afraid you’ll go to prison. You don’t want to go to prison, do you?”
“No.” His voice broke, and tears ran down his face.
“Then you need to explain exactly what happened the day you came to my place. Who sent you there?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
He dashed a hand across his cheek. “I don’t want my mother dragged into this.”
“Unless your mother’s hurt someone, she’ll be fine,” Francesca said. “She hasn’t hurt anyone, has she, Dean?”
He finally met her eyes. “No. My mother would never hurt anyone.”
Francesca smiled. “That’s what I thought, too.”
Obviously relieved by her friendliness, he sniffed. “So…you believe me?” Dean glanced in Jonah’s direction as if to confirm it. “I can go home?”
“I’m afraid not,” Jonah said. “Not yet. Someone’s killed at least nine women. Julia is one of them, but there are others.”
“How many others?” he asked.
If he’d done it, he’d already have that information, and Jonah didn’t get the impression he was faking. “That’s one of the things we’re hoping to find out.”
“I don’t know about anyone else, except…except that woman Butch had dinner with. The one she was looking for when she first came to the yard,” he said with a jerk of his head to indicate Francesca.
“April?” Francesca clarified.
“Yeah, her.”
Jonah had to admit he seemed sincere. “You told Investigator Hunsacker—”
Puzzled, Dean broke in. “Who?”
Jonah pointed to Finch. “You see that man right there? You told his partner, Investigator Hunsacker, that you killed Julia.”
“No.” Dean shook his head. “They…they wouldn’t leave me alone until I signed their papers. But I told them it wasn’t me.”
Finch jumped to his feet as if to argue, but Jonah motioned for him to sit down and, fortunately, he acquiesced. “So you didn’t confess?”
“I told them I went to Francesca’s house and…and I picked her locks. I’m good at that. I can get in anywhere.” He seemed reluctant to look at her. “I know it’s not nice, but…I’m good at it,” he repeated. “I also told them Julia was the one in the freezer. But I don’t know how she got to the cabin. I didn’t take her there.”
“Maybe someone else did,” Francesca suggested.
“Yes!” His eyes focused, grew more lucid. “It had to be Butch. He copied the key when we rented the cabin last Christmas so we could go up there whenever we wanted. And he told me to wait there. He must’ve done it. He killed her, ’cause he knew she couldn’t stay in the yard if you still had her panties.”
Francesca scooted forward. “Did you see him kill her?”
“No. You asked me that before.” He acted as if he suspected a trick.
“Then you saw him put her body in the freezer?” Jonah asked.
“I didn’t see that, either. I used to keep my books and drawings there, but I found them in the trash pile so I went to see what happened to the freezer. It was running, although it wasn’t before. And my key wouldn’t unlock the padlock. It was easier to cut it off than try to pick it, so I did. But when I opened the lid, I found a garbage bag with Julia inside it.” He shivered in revulsion. “I barfed the first time I opened that bag. I should’ve protected her. She was so pretty. And…and nice. Julia was nicer than Paris. Paris never liked me.”
Jonah crossed his ankles. “Who did you feel you needed to protect Julia from?”
“Quit leading him,” Finch interjected from his corner, but Dean didn’t allow him to interrupt. He didn’t even seem to hear it. He was too eager to answer.
“From Butch! He’s a monster.”
“What about Sherrilyn?” Francesca asked. “Can you tell us what happened to her?”
“I don’t know. She was fine until she came to the yard to—to wish me happy birthday. We’d been fighting. But…she was sorry. She said she was sorry.”
Francesca picked up her purse from the floor and placed it on the table. “You saw her there? Spoke to her?”
“Yes.”
“Could you be wrong about that?”
His eyebrows knitted. “No. Paris saw her, too. So did Butch and my mother. Sherry said I’m the only man who’s ever really loved her and it wasn’t fair of Neal to break us up. We were miserable without each other. We were going to get back together.”
“Where did she go after that?”
“Home, I guess. How would I know?”
Jonah changed up the interview with an easy question. “Neal’s her son?”
“That’s right. He’s not very nice. He—he doesn’t want his mother to love me. He wants her all to himself.”
Had Sherrilyn really shown up at the salvage yard? She had a restraining order against Dean, and she’d just been through that terrible experience caused by his stalking and death threats. But she wouldn’t be the first to go back to someone she knew might hurt her. “Was this after you went to her house and threatened to kill her?” Jonah asked.
“I didn’t say I was going to kill her! I said I’d rather we were both dead than apart. I loved her!”
Francesca jumped back in. “What about Bianca Andersen? Did you love her, too?”
The name distracted him. “Who?”
“Bianca Andersen. She was a nurse at Laurel Oaks. You recognize Laurel Oaks, don’t you?”
“Of course. I’ve been there. Three times.”
At least he was capable of remembering correctly. Jonah thought that lent him some credibility. “But you don’t recall a Bianca?”