Detective Trap contains descriptions of violence and sexual content and is not suitable for everyone.

Please be advised. She watched the suspect for a long time waiting for exactly the right moment. So much depended on the little things,

like making the suspect believe you are not in a special hurry to talk to him,

even if you had been able to think of little else for the last month.

It was 9.30 a.m. on April 12, 2014.

29 days since Detective Julissa Trap had been summoned to an Anaheim trash sorting plant

where a young woman's mangled body had been found.

Now, Trapp was standing in her sergeant's office at the Anaheim Police Department,

cradling what might have been her hundredth cup of coffee since the case began,

huddled with a team of other cops around the closed circuit monitor

with its bird's eye view of the interview room down the hall.

On the screen she could see the suspect, Stephen Gordon, his face a pale smudge.

He was a slight looking man in his mid-40s. He was in a wheelchair

because a surveillance car had knocked him off his bike the night before when he

tried to flee. He was hunched forward slightly as the minutes passed,

maybe just a little chilly.

The thermostat had been turned down to the mid-60s in there,

so that at the right moment she could offer the illusion of

friendship in the shape of a blanket. You tell your deepest darkest secrets to

your bus run. When I walk into a room, that's what I'm doing is how

can I become this person's friend. When I go into a room, I treat that individual kind of how I feel when I'm going to go to confession.

You learn very quickly like, oh, this priest is very nice, and he kind of walks me through it, and he gives me some guidance and, you know, maybe gives me some good advice as opposed to the priest that are kind of like, well, you shouldn't be doing that, right?

...