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Valerie needed to turn the screw. "Why were you drinking with Jake if you didn't much care for him?" she asked.
That sparked something in Robert. He shook his head angrily. "Did I say I didn't like the guy?"
"So, you did like him?"
"Sure," Robert said. "He was a nice enough guy as far as petty thieves go. But we weren't all that close. And I got tired of the cops trying to pin it on me. We drank together, we talked a bit about our past exploits, and that was it."
"What did you talk to him about?" Valerie asked.
"Bar talk," Robert replied. "I didn't know much about him. I knew he had two young girls, if I remember right. That was it. And the reason I remember that is because he was upset one night because he hadn't seen them in a while. It's not usual to see his type get that soft. When you see a grown man cry, it sticks with you. Especially in our circles."
That stung. The idea that her father felt remorse for leaving hung in her mind. Valerie wondered why he left. But she felt doubt that she'd ever know. The only person who knew was her mom, and she was still in a secure psychiatric hospital and was barely cogent most of the time.
She didn't even know if her mom would tell her the truth anyway. Whether it was her illness or not, her mother was draped in lies and secrecy. She always had been.
"Hey, you with me?" Robert said.
Valerie suddenly realized that she had been in a daze, mulling over the past. This had been happening at an alarming rate lately, and combined with strange hallucinations, she knew it was only a matter of time before the same psychiatric illness that ruined her mother and sister's lives would ruin hers.
"Yes," she said, clearing her throat and shuffling uncomfortably in her seat. "What was the last thing Jake Wilson said to you?"
But Freeman wasn't listening. He was considering Valerie. She knew why. He had spotted the weird zoning out.
Then he cracked a smile. "Oh, wait a minute," he said, laughing. "This isn't a professional call, is it? You're connected to Jake."
Valerie's blood ran cold. She was losing the interview.
"Please just answer my questions," she said.
Robert Freeman leaned back in his chair. "So, are you working for the family? Are they digging up all this and want to figure out if I did it or something?"
"Something like that," Valerie found herself saying.
There was a silence between them. Valerie had spent her career profiling criminals, but now, she felt the intense scrutiny of Robert Freeman's gaze. She knew he had seen something. A tell she did not even know she had.
He laughed even louder than before.
"Don't tell me ... you're his daughter?"
Valerie said nothing.
Freeman drew closer to the glass and looked into her eyes. "You are as well. I see it now. The same stubbornness. Well God damn."
"Just answer my questions," Valerie said, her words trembling slightly in her mouth.
"I don't know what you want me to say."
"Did you kill him?" Valerie asked, doing her best to choke back the emotion.
Freeman looked at her for what felt like forever. And then he shook his head. Then Valerie thought she saw a twinge of emotion in him. Perhaps even some regret. He had, whether he had meant to or not, pulled back his mask a little.
"No," he said, finally. "I didn't kill your dad. I've done some bad stuff in my time, but I'venevertaken a life. A few fingers, sure. But not that."
Valerie didn't know whether to believe him or not. Judging by his records, Robert Freeman would be due for parole in four years. If hewasguilty, he wouldn't want to admit to murder and face countless more years in prison.
"If you really want to know about your dad," he continued. "I'd ask your mother."
"Why?" Valerie feared the answer.
