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“What?” the man who opened the door asked, his voice groggy. He was wiping his sleeve over his eyes and squinting at the light as if he had just woken up. Of course he would be tired—if he had been out all night killing women. When he dropped the sleeve, though, Laura recognized him easily. It was him—Brent Dockhand, the creep she had arrested once already. His greasy black hair was longer now, and he had a new tattoo of a roaring tiger on his neck, but it was him. The same sallow skin, the same sunken dark eyes.
“Mr. Dockhand,” she said, giving him far more respect than he deserved. “Do you remember who I am?”
He looked at her and blinked, and then a dawning realization came over his face. Laura felt some gratification to see that it also included a kind of horror. He knew exactly who she was. “You’re that FBI agent,” he said, then looked up several inches to Nate’s face and blinked. “What do you want with me?”
“I’m here to arrest you on suspicion of murder,” Laura said grimly, bracing herself; she expected him to run now as she reached out toward him. “Put your hands in front of you, slowly.”
“What?” he said, but he put his hands out all the same, obediently and quietly.
Laura was watching closely for the trick, for the moment when he would snap his hands back or go for a weapon. But he didn’t. Not as she pulled the handcuffs from her belt. Not as she snapped them onto his wrists. Not as she read him his rights.
He just stood there, looking bemused. He didn’t say another word. Didn’t confess. Didn’t resist.
What the hell was he playing at?
“Let’s get him into the car,” she told Nate, leading Dockhand out by his cuffed wrists. He stumbled a little as he crossed the step out of his house, and then looked back.
“Hey, uh, would you lock up for me?” he asked, looking at Nate instead of Laura. “My keys are on the side, just by the door. I don’t want anyone taking my stuff while I’m gone.”
“Sure,” Nate said. By his narrowed eyes and the set of his jaw, Laura knew that he was also puzzled by the lack of reaction. Instead of moving right away to find the keys, he walked with Laura back to the car until she had Dockhand seated inside and buckled in. She waited by the car while he turned back, ensuring that there was no opportunity for Dockhand to dive for the door and try to run.
But he didn’t even try. He just sat there in the back of the car, calm and quiet. Even though he didn’t look happy about the arrest, he also didn’t look particularly concerned. Laura couldn’t help a feeling of prickling unease swarming over her skin as she got into the front seat, timing her moment with Nate’s return.
They drove back to the precinct in silence, only the sound of cars passing them by on the busy roads to keep them company. Laura kept watching Dockhand in the rearview mirror, in the mirror inside her sun visor, the side mirror on the outside of the car, any angle she could get on him. For the whole thirty-minute ride, he didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow. Something wasn’t right. Why was he so calm and cool? She remembered the last time she had arrested him, the way he had fought all the way to the nearest station. How he’d hissed and cursed at her in court.
Several times she thought about opening her mouth, but he was so quiet and still that she didn’t want to risk it. She wanted to get any confession he made on tape when they were back at the precinct. The last thing they needed was for him to admit to it all, but then refuse to repeat it once they were in a position to record his statement as evidence.
By the time they pulled up in the precinct’s parking lot and Nate hauled Dockhand out of the car to take him to questioning, Laura was feeling worse and worse about it all. Something definitely wasn’t right. She just couldn’t put her finger on what.
And when you were dealing with a vicious killer, the last thing that you wanted was something intangibly wrong. Because you might just turn around and realize that someone else’s life had been at risk, and you didn’t see it in time to stop it.
Nate took him through the booking process as Laura moved away silently, stealing through the corridors to find their little office. She grabbed them a couple of coffees from the machine in the hall, then sat staring at the board they’d put together. The faces of the women, their names. Their crime scene photographs.
What was she missing?
“You ready?” Nate asked, pushing in through the door and reaching to pick up his coffee.
Laura looked around, feeling as though he’d just woken her up. “Yeah, I’m ready. This guy is acting weird, right?”
“Very weird,” Nate agreed with a frown. “He was quiet as a mouse while we went through the process. The sheriff’s guys took him to an interview room for us. He’s waiting now. You want to let him stew?”
Laura shook her head. “The way he is, I don’t think it would work. It’s almost like he has no problem being here at all. That worries me.”
“Me, too,” Nate admitted, furrowing his brow. He passed a hand over his neatly trimmed beard, which remained neat despite the fact neither of them had had enough sleep or time for beauty routines, and shrugged. “Can’t let him see it, though. All right, let’s go.”
Laura silently agreed, getting up and walking with him a short distance to another room. It was set up for the interview already. Looking through a small window in the door, Laura saw Dockhand sitting at a table, with two chairs facing him. He was quiet, his hands laced on top of the table.
Laura doused her hesitation by grabbing hold of the handle and stepping inside, placing her coffee down on the table alongside the file which contained all of the information they had on the case so far. It also contained a number of blank pieces of paper, a technique which bulked it out and made it look as though they knew far more than they did.
“Brent Dockhand,” Laura said, then hesitated
, looking at the empty space next to him. Beside her, Nate was taking his place, folding his large frame into the uncomfortable metal chair. “You are entitled to a lawyer. You’re waiving your right to representation?”
Brent nodded calmly. “For now,” he said, looking up at her and then across to Nate. “I may change my mind, but I’m hoping that I don’t have to.”
Laura narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. She wasn’t going to play this guy’s game. If he was going to act like this was all fine and easy for him, she was going to call him on it. “You’re very calm, for someone who has been accused of murder,” she pointed out.
Brent shrugged. “I wouldn’t have been if it was anyone else,” he said. “But it’s you. So it all makes sense.”
