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“So,” Connor said conversationally. “Are we talking here? Or shall we take you in?”
"We can talk here,” Nick said sulkily. “What do you want to know?"
He scooped up a handful of popcorn and stuffed it into his mouth. The loud crunching noise, the oily stink, and a stray piece falling from his mouth onto the carpet made Cami suddenly want to retch. She took a deep breath and looked away.
"You've been interacting with three women recently. They were all killed in their homes within the past few days."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Nick said, through his food. “I interact with loads of people. Are you saying I interacted with them and then they died? You’re linking that somehow?”
"You made personal attacks and threats online to three victims of recent murders. Caroline Elder, Tracy Hardy, and Shiree Williams."
Nick frowned slightly. "I told you, I talk to a lot of people online."
"Why did you threaten them? Did you have an issue with them personally?"
"That's none of your business." Nick's round chin jutted.
"It is our business, because they are all deceased. So you need to tell me now why you were so interested in those women."
"I was not interested in them! And if you're going to try and pin this on me, I want to talk to my lawyer."
"You can call one. But we're here now. We have questions. It would be much easier if you answered them."
"I don't go into people's houses," Nick said. "I only socialize on the internet. I’m an introvert."
Cami thought that, at least, was a truthful statement, but introverts could still be killers.
"It's a matter of public record that you were making degrading and threatening comments to all of these women at some point in the last few weeks. Was it because you were jealous of the victims and their lives?"
"Jealous?" Now Nick looked outraged. "Why should I be jealous? I just like to be honest online. I'm upfront. I don't try and be nice. If people are going to flaunt how rich and pampered they are, they must expect to be cut down to size."
"Where were you yesterday night?" Connor asked.
"I was here. On my couch. Watching TV, playing with my sound effects, interacting online. That's what I do most times."
"Do you work?"
"I don't need to work. My grandpa set up a trust fund, and I get enough off it every month to live. I don't need much."
Clearly, the trust fund didn't stretch to soap or deodorant. Yet again, Cami’s stomach churned as a wave of unwashed clothing and skin wafted toward her.
"And the previous afternoon? I need to check out your timeframe."
"Yesterday afternoon I was visiting my grandpa."
"Where's he?"
"He lives in a retirement home in downtown Boston. I go and visit him twice a week. We play a board game in the afternoon and then we eat dinner together. So that's where I was then."
"Did you drive there?"
"I Ubered. I don't own a car. I don't need one, seeing as I don't go out much."
"But you spend a lot of time following people online," Cami said.
He turned his bleary blue gaze to her. "Yeah, yeah I do. I like knowing what people are doing. Throwing them off balance. But I also know a lot about people and their lives. I’m, like, knowledgeable about the area.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Connor asked.
