Autopsy of a Mind

Chapter 89: Self-Inflicted Wounds

He went on to explain how the victim had come into his shop. Everything seemed so long drawn that he didn't mention anything specific apart from him knowing the man. No signs of obsession with him or anything. What I couldn't figure out was how Dean found out about the crimes of these people. All police records of the victim were confidential, not something he could find out. Did he get so close to the victims that they told him what they had done? That was highly improbable. 

As the speech continued, I could see that he was still talking but he remained confident. Subconsciously he was scared though. 

"So that was the last time you had contact with him, right?" Detective Nash asked quickly. "I'm sorry, I'm not putting words in your mouth. I just want to confirm." He gave a reassuring smile. 

"Oh, no bother..." he trailed off, waving off the question. "Yes, that was the last time I saw him. He came into the shop to get his car touched up." And that was around three weeks ago. A week before Dean closed his shop and started to follow victim three around. 

"So you didn't text or call him, nothing," Detective Nash pressed. 

"Yes, yes. Nothing of that sort." He shifted in his seat. His eyes were solely focused on Detective Nash. He didn't even turn to look at me as if treating me like thin air.

"I did see him on the road once while I was on vacation, though. Didn't speak to him or anything," he admitted finally after a bit of thought.

Dean didn't know the extent of the evidence, but he did know that the investigators have some information, which was why he was being questioned. He had no choice but to amend his alibi to some degree to give him leeway. This allowed us to get one step closer to the confession. 

We could keep the evidence against him hidden for longer and keep it for a more critical moment to have the final impact. 

"Oh, you saw him? Where?" Detective Nash pretended to be surprised like this news was new to him. Dean gave a location. 

Nash scratched his chin. "Right, can you tell me how he looked? Maybe that could give us some clue about what he was up to before he went missing."

"Oh, I didn't see him for long enough. He was casually walking on the street." He shrugged. "I did know that he was preparing for a show though... he had told me the last time he visited my shop." This was why the location of the show was revealed to him and he could so easily gain control.

"Right..." He changed the line of questioning. "Can you tell me the details of where you were... something of that sort so that we can find some CCTV footage?"

Dean quietened, but then he went about the details in hope that if they did find something it would be his advantage. Unfortunately, the words he said could be used to lock him in at a later stage. He had never met him face to face, the encounter hadn't happened. While he could imagine the police rummaging through footage and finding him at the location, he had missed out on a small detail...

Because he had followed the victim for so long, he didn't remember each and every detail. 

Which would be normal. He could just say that he didn't remember the details, but instead, he went into great detail to make a clear image of the scene. Detective Nash even drew out the scene in front of him to confirm. 

I kept wondering why Detective Nash asked these questions. We already had Dean under control. But when I saw Dean ease into the conversation, I realized why. This line of questioning and sincere listening led to Dean letting his guard down. He thought he was fooling the detectives and that we believed in what he was saying. 

They were simply talking about the particulars when Detective Nash jumped. 

"What happened to your neck?" he asked quickly. Dean went from feeling assured to feeling threatened. The shift from one to the next was so extreme that the suspect became disoriented. I could see that his critical thinking had been hindered. 

He took a couple of seconds to respond. 

"That was self-inflicted, actually." His voice was dull as he didn't know what emotion to project. He was going to explain when I interjected.

"To your neck?" I asked casually. The topic of self-harm is taboo, so I showed no particular expression to seem suspicious, just curious. The neck is an unusual place for a self-inflicted injury. And it looked a little old, too. I said it casually, just giving him a little hint but saving the pressure for later. 

"Yeah," his voice was considerably lower.

"What did you use?" I remained neutral. 

"A knife?" he seemed unsure. 

"When did you do that?"

"Uh... last month... I pick at the scabs," he explained quickly, steering away from the real-time of the struggle. I knew scabs that were removed before the skin underneath was fully healed. This was not how it looked. These wounds were fresher and hadn't been peeled off yet. 

"Don't peel your scabs. They leave dreadful scars." I placed my hand on the desk, my sleeve riding up enough that he could see the sliver of marks on my hand. He stared dazedly before turning away. 

Dean showed some other wounds, stating they were from the same knife. 

Of course, Detective Nash jumped in to understand the timeline, sounding so casual that it surprised me. 

The whole conversation continued until Detective Nash asked him about the victim. "He passed away. Did you know he was involved in a police investigation before? Had he mentioned anything of the sort to you?" 

"He's dead?" Dean pretended to be shocked. "Police... investigation..." he gritted his teeth. He was trying to rein in his reaction to the best of his abilities. 

"Yes, do you know of it?" I interjected. 

"Ah yes, the rape-murder case." His voice lacked emotion. 

"So, you know about it. Did he tell you?" Detective Nash asked. Dean nodded. 

"He mentioned it in the passing," he sighed. 

THIS CHAPTER UPLOAD FIRST AT NOVELBIN.COM