The man looks at Leopold, expression cold and emotionless. “Who?”
Weston slams his fists into the table, and Anastasia releases him. He puts both hands on his head and moves to the farthest corner of the room, his expression murderous. Zane moves around me and puts himself between his sister and his best friend. Garrison moves closer to the door.
Leopold opens the folder and slides it forward. The man leans in to look.
“Is it a crime to like pictures?”
“It’s a crime to murder an innocent teenage girl,” Jack snaps. “It’s a crime to threaten and stalk a woman. And it’s a crime to blow up a man—twice. Then let’s not forget kidnapping a federal agent, or the twelve bodies you dropped in Georgia. See, you may have worn a mask and disguised your voice, but certain things can’t be hidden. Such as your mannerisms. They come through, no matter how well disguised you think you are. I know it was you,” he adds, voice barely above a whispered growl.
The man grins up at him. “You seem a bit close to this one, Agent Weathers. Perhaps you should take a minute. Cool off.”
Jack slams his hands down on the table. “I have no patience for arrogance. We have you. The only hope you have is to make a full confession and hope you don’t get the death penalty.”
Ryan leans back in his seat. “All you have are pictures. I’m a crime buff. You going to pin me down for my taste in podcasts, too?”
“A crime buff? That’s what you expect us to believe?”
“I follow unsolved crimes. It’s a hobby of mine.” His tone is too cool. Calculated. His movements too relaxed. Arrogance drips from him like a toxic sludge. He thinks he’s going to get away with it.
He thinks he’ll walk.
I look over at Zane. He meets my gaze, the expression on his face one I know well.
No matter what happens here—this guy won’t walk.
“You have photographs of a murdered seventeen-year-old girl on your wall,” Jack snaps.
Weston lets out a tortured growl. An audible representation of him trying to leash his rage. I move in closer, right beside Zane. But even I know that, if Cowboy goes off, we’ll all be collateral damage.
“He’s going to get his,” Garrison assures Weston.
“Oh, I know he will,” Weston snarls. “But a prison cell and three meals a day are too good for him.”
“Care to explain how you got that picture?” Leopold asks. “She was found shortly after she was killed. So that image must have been taken mere minutes after her death.”
He shrugs. “Someone sent it to me.”
“You don’t truly expect us to buy that.” Leopold shakes his head. “Like Agent Weathers said, we’ve got you. It won’t take long for us to prove that you were in town the night Violet Hayes was murdered. And when we do, you’ll have nowhere to hide.” He stands.
But Jack leans in. “You know, her brother is on the other side of that glass. Big guy. Navy SEAL who eats men like you for breakfast.”
Oh no. Taunting this guy might be good for a confession, but it’s the last thing Weston needs.
“Is that supposed to scare me?” Ryan questions, his gaze shifting to the one-way glass. And then, he blows a kiss at Weston.
Cowboy goes off like a nuclear warhead.
He explodes out of the room, knocking Garrison and Zane out of the way. I grab Anastasia and spin her out of the way as he practically rips the door from its hinges. I release Anastasia and race after him, but by the time I get into the interrogation room, he has Ryan by the throat, pinned against the wall.
Leopold is frantically trying to get armed officers to lower their weapons, while Jack is trying to get Weston to release Ryan before he crushes his throat.
For a moment, I pause.
Do I really want to stop him?
Isn’t Weston justified?
But those thoughts dry up when reality kicks in. As much as we want this guy dead, we have to do this the right way. I cross the room, jumping over a discarded chair, and place a hand on Weston’s arm.
