Chapter 23 - Chapter 23: It's All Very Urgent

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Chapter 23: It's All Very Urgent

Facing Cahill's provocation, Wenner maintained considerable restraint.

Cahill refused to return Calvin Holt to the Homicide Team, and Wenner didn't push the matter.

After the group returned to the police station, Wenner called Theodore and Bernie over, told them to prepare for the interrogation as usual, then picked up his phone.

More than half an hour later, Precinct Chief Grant Widdek rushed back to the station and summoned both Wenner and Cahill to his office.

Angry roars erupted from behind the closed door. Chief Widdek treated them as equals in his fury, giving both men a thorough dressing-down.

About ten minutes later, Wenner emerged. He told Theodore and Bernie to immediately prepare to begin the interrogation.

"Cahill obtained Little Howard's confession."

Wenner's face showed traces of weariness. He pulled open his desk drawer, paused with his hand inside, then pushed it shut again. Waving dismissively, he said, "I need the complete report by the end of tomorrow's shift."

"The report on Little Howard's case."

Watching the two men leave, Wenner closed his door, took out two chocolates, and popped them into his mouth. He squinted in thought, his hand dipping repeatedly into the drawer to feed chocolate balls between his lips.

......

Calvin Holt was brought back by the Homicide Team. Word was he'd had another 'outburst' at the Patrol Department—injuring three or four officers and nearly escaping in the chaos.

When they went to retrieve Holt, he was being held in an interrogation room where the 'windows and lights had been broken,' with four or five officers trapped inside with him.

Holt had tough skin and thick flesh, though—his injuries were only superficial.

After simple bandaging, he was temporarily held in the interrogation room.

He appeared surprisingly quiet now, looking vastly different from Theodore's psychological profile.

No one bothered him, so he simply lay across the table and slept without making a fuss.

It seemed his energy had been completely vented by his arrest the night before and his rampage at the Patrol Department. He could finally quiet down and rest.

Approaching noon, his wife rushed over, accompanied by a man. After only a distant glance through the window, she repeatedly emphasized to anyone who would listen that she was completely unaware of her husband's actions.

Holt seemed agitated by the sight and tried to rush toward the door, but was restrained by several detectives.

His wife sobbed into the man's arms, covering her face, and quickly left with him.

This brief scene seemed to stimulate something in Holt. He no longer lay down to sleep and began making frequent demands. One moment he wanted water, the next he needed the restroom.

After lunch, Theodore and Bernie were called into Wenner's office to report their progress.

Wenner didn't rush them overtly, but both men could sense the pressure radiating from him.

The reason was simple: across the hall, Cahill was already preparing to announce his results to the public.

When Theodore and Bernie returned, they spotted Old Howard leaving Wenner's office. The man looked deeply troubled as he departed.

Once results were announced to the public, even if ultimately proven wrong, it would deal a fatal blow to his political career.

Bernie was responsible for the situation report. "Cases 600529—last night—and 600528—Joan—we have sufficient evidence."

Wenner leaned forward. "What about 600527?"

Bernie fell silent for a moment, then quietly shook his head.

Wenner's gaze shifted to Theodore. "Do you still stand by your judgment?"

Theodore nodded without hesitation.

"They got Little Howard's confession," Wenner said, gesturing toward the opposite side of the building, "and we have nothing concrete here."

After a brief silence, Theodore spoke slowly. "Mr. Wenner, I want to interrogate Holt."

For a moment, Wenner's breathing grew heavier, then gradually steadied.

"Are you confident?" he asked.

Theodore answered honestly, "Holt has been using too much testosterone. He's like a powder keg—ready to explode with just the right spark."

"His sexual impotence—that's our spark."

"This morning, seeing his wife with that man already pushed him partway there."

Wenner considered for a long moment, then nodded. "Do it."

Watching the two men leave, Wenner pulled out a written confession from his drawer, stared at it briefly, then slid it back inside. He picked up his phone and dialed.

"Howard, I need more time."

"No, Wenner. You don't have time. It's over."

"I really want to support you, but I'll have to vote yes in the next council meeting. I hope you understand."

Wenner straightened in his chair, his voice taking on urgency. "Listen to me, Howard. Give me just a little more time. My best detective is working to pry open that bastard's mouth."

"Give me a few more minutes, and we still have a chance to turn this around."

Several seconds of silence stretched across the line before Howard's voice returned. "Thirty minutes. You have exactly thirty minutes. I'm leaving for the TV station in half an hour."

Wenner reached into his drawer and found it empty.

The chocolate balls he'd been hoarding were all gone.

He hung up the phone, grabbed his coat, and walked straight into the interrogation room.

Bernie stood to offer Wenner his seat, but Wenner declined. He simply leaned against the window with his arms crossed, observing the proceedings.

Theodore acknowledged his presence with a brief glance, then returned to his rhythm.

This was a particularly tricky case.

Calvin Holt didn't suffer from a trophy-collecting complex—he was simply venting rage.

This meant the police had no way to build a case on direct physical evidence alone. They could only rely on interrogation to achieve a breakthrough confession.

Unless they resorted to 'questionable methods' or fabricated evidence, if Calvin Holt chose not to talk, no one could force him.

Theodore understood this completely, which made him proceed with extreme caution during the interrogation.

They began by showing Holt the fingerprint comparison results, using the forensic evidence to apply direct pressure and link him definitively to Joan's death.

Then they started connecting the behavioral patterns across the serial cases.

Bernie laid out all four cases side by side, emphasizing the commonalities among the victims and methodically recreating each crime sequence.

Theodore supplemented this with insights into the psychological changes that occurred during each attack.

Holt displayed what seemed like silent acknowledgment but refused to speak. Their current approach wasn't breaking through.

Wenner checked his watch—more than ten minutes had already passed.

Anxiety crept into his posture, and he couldn't help but clear his throat. When Theodore and Bernie glanced over, he shook his head, signaling them to continue.

Theodore remained unaware of Wenner's mounting desperation. In his assessment, Holt's defenses were already cracking, and the real interrogation was just beginning.

"Are you so inadequate that you can't even satisfy prostitutes? Is killing the only way you can prove you're a man?"

Theodore's abrupt question completely disrupted the interrogation's established rhythm—at least from Wenner's perspective.

The supervisor couldn't help but frown.

Bernie caught Theodore's strategy immediately and reinforced it by re-emphasizing the morning's scene: Holt's wife leaving intimately with another man, further driving home his 'loser' psychology.

Holt's emotions ignited instantly. He argued heatedly in his own defense, cursing his wife as promiscuous and morally corrupt.

The more he spoke, the more agitated he became, his rage quickly expanding beyond just his wife.

Wenner, who had been obsessively watching the clock, found himself lowering his arms, his full attention now fixed on Holt.

Bernie and Theodore took turns systematically dismantling his defenses.

"Really? I don't believe it."

"Don't you bear any responsibility at all?"

"Have you ever looked at yourself honestly?"

"Maybe you weren't trying hard enough. Maybe you weren't good enough to her."

Holt's emotions reached a boiling point. He shouted at both detectives, "They deserved it! Who told them to mock me!"

Silence fell over the interrogation room like a heavy blanket.

Wenner's eyes lit up. He quickly slipped out to call Howard.

Theodore and Bernie, however, went completely still. Both men lowered their heads, pretending to study their documents while giving Holt ample time for self-regulation.

After about five minutes of tense quiet, Theodore suddenly produced the testosterone bottle.

"This stuff can't actually restore a man's vigor," he said quietly. "Nothing can."

Seeing Holt's eyes focus on him, Theodore nodded. "It just makes people irritable and prone to explosive anger. Just like you were a moment ago."

"Holt, we all know that killing them wasn't your original intention."

"You couldn't control yourself at all. You just felt this overwhelming anger."

"That rage took over and controlled your body, made you do these things."

"Holt, we understand you."

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