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"My rights? Yes. Listen, back there, yes, I had a gun. But people had been out to kill me. Of course I'm going to protect myself. Somebody's setting me up. Like you said, somebody I'd posted about in my blog. I saw Travis come into the living room and I pulled out my gun--I started carrying one when you said I was in danger."
Ignoring the rambling, she said, "We're going to take you to Monterey County and book you, James. You can call your wife or your attorney then."
"Do you hear what I'm saying? I've been framed. Whatever that boy's claiming, he's unstable. I was playing along with him, with his delusions. I was going to shoot him if he'd tried to hurt Don and Lily. Of course I was."
She leaned forward, controlling her emotions as best she could. Which wasn't easy. "Why'd you target Tammy and Kelley, James? Two teenage girls who never did anything to you."
"I'm innocent," he muttered.
She continued, as if he hadn't spoken. "Why them? Because you didn't like adolescent attitude? You didn't like them tainting your precious blog with their obscenities? You didn't like bad grammar?"
He said nothing, but Dance believed there was a flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes. She pushed ahead. "And why Lyndon Strickland? And Mark Watson? You killed them just because they posted under their real names and they were easy to find, right?"
Chilton was looking away now, as if he knew he was telegraphing the truth with his eyes.
"James, those pictures you uploaded to the blog, pretending to be Travis? You drew them yourself, didn't you? I remembered f
rom your bio in The Report that you were a graphic designer and art director in college."
He said nothing.
The anger flared hotter. "Did you enjoy drawing the one of me getting stabbed?"
Again, silence.
She stood. "I'll be by at some point to interview you. You can have your attorney present if you like."
Then he turned to her, his face imploring. "One thing, Agent Dance? Please?"
She lifted an eyebrow.
"There's something I need. It's important."
"What's that, James?"
"A computer."
"What?"
"I need access to a computer. Soon. Today."
"You get phone calls from the lockup. No computer."
"But The Report . . . I've got to upload my stories."
Now she couldn't contain the laugh. He was not at all concerned about his wife or children, only about the precious blog. "No, James, that's not going to happen."
"But I have to. I have to!"
Hearing those words and seeing his frantic gaze, Kathryn Dance finally understood James Chilton. The readers were nothing to him. He'd easily murdered two of them and was fully prepared to kill more.
The truth was nothing to him. He'd lied over and over again.
No, the answer was simple: Like the players in DimensionQuest, like so many people lost in the synth world, James Chilton was an addict. Addicted to his messianic mission. Addicted to the seductive power of spreading the word--his word--to the minds and hearts of people throughout the world. The more who read his musings, his rants, his praise, the more exquisite the high.
She leaned down, close to his face. "James. I will do everything possible to make sure that whatever prison you go to, you will never be able to get online ever again. Never in your life."
His face turned livid and he began screaming, "You can't do that! You can't take my blog away. My readers need me. The country needs me! You can't!"
