“I think we should let Dr. Soto do his work,” she said. “Maybe this is a good time to talk to the husband.”
Sam nodded in agreement.
“I’ll take you to him,” Delco offered.
He led them back down the hall and then up the stairs that he’d noted before. As they rounded the landing and Jessie started up to the second floor, she saw a huge window looking out on West Hollywood. The sun had completely set now and the darkened sky was peppered with lights. The rest of the city was going about its business, oblivious to the horror that had occurred here.
Delco guided them to a bedroom at the end of the hall. The door was open and an officer stood in the entrance, where he could see inside.
“Is there anyone in there with him?” Sam asked.
“No,” Delco said. “He declined the support officer so we let him alone for now.”
“Anything we need to know, officer?” Jessie asked the young man in the doorway.
“No ma’am,” he said. “He’s been sitting there quietly.”
She nodded and stepped into the large bedroom. It took a second to locate Dr. Marcus Williamson. Then she saw him in the far corner sitting in a rocking chair. His eyes were closed and he was rocking slowly back and forth. But that wasn’t what drew her attention.
He was covered in blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Jessie tried not to jump to conclusions.
Normally, if a woman was stabbed to death and her husband was found in the home, drenched in blood, they’d cuff him then and there. And that might still happen. It was certainly possible that the doctor had heard about the murders of other immigrant women and used them as a cover to kill his own wife. But that couldn’t be the default position for their questioning. Jessie’s level of suspicion would depend on his answers.
“Dr. Williamson,” Delco said softly as the man opened his eyes. “This is Detective Goodwin and Ms. Hunt. They’ve been assigned to your wife’s case.”
“Hello,” Williamson said wearily, starting to push himself out of the chair.
“That’s okay,” Jessie told him. “We’ll come to you.”
Williamson slumped back into the chair heavily. “Thank you,” he muttered.
They walked around the bed and stood in front of him. Jessie did her best to evaluate him, independent of the blood on his clothes and skin. The man looked to be in his early 40s. He had salt and pepper hair and a day’s worth of scruff on his face. He was handsome and had the lean look of a runner or biker. He was wearing a dress shirt and slacks, both of which were blood-stained. On the floor beside him were a tie and sport coat, also marked with red streaks.
“We’re sorry for your loss, Dr. Williamson,” she said quietly.
“Thank you,” he said, looking up at her with red but alert eyes. “I know you probably have a whole procedure where you treat the loved one with kid gloves. You don’t have to do that with me. I want to get whoever did this, so please ask yourquestions directly. I won’t take offense and I’ll try to be as helpful as possible.”
“We appreciate that, Dr. Williamson,” Sam said, standing beside Jessie. “Let’s start with timing. When did you get home?”
“Maybe around 6:10?” he guessed. “The traffic from the hospital was unexpectedly light so I got back a little earlier than I expected. You can check my phone GPS if you need to be more exact.”
Jessie continued from there. “Sergeant Delco mentioned that you thought you might have scared the killer off. What made you think that?”
"I came in through the garage and called out to Ana that I was home," he explained. "There was no answer, but a couple of seconds later, I heard a door close. I'm pretty sure it was the front door. I assumed it was her, maybe going outside to greet me late, or coming back in. So I called out again but still got no answer. I think when I called out that first time, the killer heard me and rushed out the front."
“Okay,” Jessie said, “so what did you do next?”
“I went into the kitchen to toss my keys in the bowl. That’s when I knew something was wrong. I saw the blood everywhere. I started shouting for Ana but then I saw her on the floor. I rushed over and assessed her. There was no pulse but I tried to revive her anyway. I did CPR. I stuffed a napkin in the wound by the carotid artery but it was useless. She was gone. That’s when I called 911.”
“So that’s how you got so bloody?” Sam asked.
Williamson sighed.
“Yes. I know it looks suspicious. But I was just trying to save her. If you need me to take a polygraph or something, I will. I know the husband is always the first suspect.”
