Page 93 of The Ice Sisters
Derrick’s gut burned with the need to see Modelle pay. To seek justice for the innocent children in this case.
Just as Ellie had found justice for his little sister who’d disappeared so long ago. He and his parents had suffered, wondering day and night where she was and if she was somewhere being held prison or tortured, praying someone would find her.
In the end, they had. Only she’d been dead for years.
Mazie and Ivy’s parents were experiencing that same torture now.
Hot suffocating air collected in his chest, making it hard to breathe. He wanted those families to have a better outcome. For those little girls to live.
At the moment, search workers and the ERT were coming the woods. He’d remained at the farm while they worked in hopes they’d find more evidence against Modelle—or they might find the girls.
Forensics was inside the house, taking samples of prints and DNA and anything that might indicate where Mazie and Ivy were being held.
So far, they had nothing to report.
Only that a dead body, a woman’s, had been inside the wall of the very house where Modelle lived. He suspected it was Modelle’s wife.
Had Modelle returned and kept the house so he could be close to his dead child’s mother? Or to protect his secrets from the police?
The depravity of that haunted him. A man like that, one who’d killed his own child and then Taylor and Heidi and abducted Mazie and Ivy was one sick son of a bitch.
One he wanted to put away.
Dammit, they had to find the missing children first.
Ellie wouldn’t give up, he knew that. He just hoped to hell the girls were still alive when they found them.
ONE HUNDRED FOURTEEN
CROOKED CREEK POLICE STATION
Ellie needed a way to force Modelle to talk. That meant enough evidence to indict him for his wife’s murder, then she’d use that as leverage. The promise of a possible deal might convince him to reveal where he’d left Mazie and Ivy. Although if she had anything to do with it, he would still spend his life in prison.
Determined not to let Modelle escape justice, Ellie printed copies of the photos Cord had taken and made notes on the case to use to interrogate Modelle.
A short stocky, dark-haired man in a three-piece suit showed up a few minutes later and introduced himself as Wilson Hamilton, Modelle’s attorney. Ellie recognized him from the case files where he’d represented Modelle the first go around. His smug, arrogant smile instantly made her dislike him.
“I need to speak to my client,” he said, his leather briefcase in hand.
“We’ll bring him to an interview room,” Ellie said, irritated they had to follow the rules when Modelle certainly hadn’t.
She showed him to interview room one, then retrieved Modelle. He shot her a venomous look as she took him by the arm and escorted him to the room. The attorney waited, his jaw set tight, shoulders thrown back in a statement of power.
“You have ten minutes,” Ellie said. “Then we’re going to talk.”
She shut the door, wishing like hell she could listen in to their conversation as she went to her office.
Derrick met her there.
“ERT lifted several sets of prints from the Woodston house,” he said. “They’re running them now. Dr. Whitefeather also found particulates beneath Claire’s nails and sent them to the lab. Prints and DNA are also being run and compared to Modelle’s.”
Ellie nodded. “Hopefully Laney will confirm an ID on the body in the wall.”
“I arranged for Modelle’s wife’s medical records to be sent to the medical examiner’s office,” Derrick said.
Ellie gathered the photos and her notes, wishing she had the DNA results now, but she’d use what she had and fill in the blanks.
Derrick followed her to the interrogation room. When she opened the door, Modelle and the lawyer looked confident. Too confident for her.
