AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“In what way did she act inappropriately?”
I lift my shoulders in a minimal, dismissive shrug. “She’d been drinking too much. Tried to flirt with some of the married guests.”
“Why did you claim that she’d left to start school when you’d actually fired her?”
“Because she would have finished with us either way, and her firing wasn’t a big deal. It was a temp job. She was nearing the end of her contract.” It’s a non-answer, but there’s not much Carter can do with it unless he wants to call me a liar to my face.
His eyes bore into me. “Interestingly, one of your security guards has also disappeared. His wife reported him missing. The last time that he worked was the day after the party.”
Yet again, I am reminded of what a stupid mistake that was.
“What does this have to do with my client?” My lawyer’s tone has a snap to it.
Carter doesn’t even spare him a glance. “Furthermore, you haven’t been coming in to work ever since the night of the party—which, as far as we know, is the last time Tamara Bennett was seen. Nor have you been at your penthouse apartment. Where have you been?”
Who the fuck knows this? Who’s been talking to him?
My lawyer jumps in. “This is irrelevant. Mr. Smith travels the country, and the world, frequently. He often doesn’t come to the office for weeks or months at a time. If he told you his whereabouts, it would reveal proprietary business information about potential future clients.”
An excellent, smoothly manufactured lie. Interestingly, many lawyers test high on the psychopathy scale.
The detective opens his folder and slides another picture across the table at me. Baxter Warburton III. He was from Maryland; I deliberately pick victims from around the country to ensure they can’t be traced back to me.
So how the fuck did Sergeant Carter link him to me?
“Do you recognize this man?”
Well, the picture sure looks different than the last time that I saw him. For one thing, he still has eyes. I make a show of studying the photograph for a few seconds. “No. Should I?”
“He also disappeared one month ago.” He’s staring at me, searching my face, waiting for those tiny non-verbal cues that would betray a normal man. Thank God I’m far from normal.
“Oh, come on!” my lawyer explodes with impatience. “This is pure comedy now, Sergeant. Are you going to question my client about every disappearance that occurred in the continental United States one month ago? Maybe you’ve got some missing persons cases in Russia you’d like to close too? Afghanistan? China? We’re done here.”
Sergeant Carter stands up, and I can feel the frustration radiating off him. “Would you be willing to take a lie detector test?”
“Of course,” I say instantly, at the exact same time my lawyer says, “No.”
A lie detector test is so unreliable that they can’t even be used in court. Evidence gathered by police dogs can be used in court. A judge would believe a German shepherd before he’d believe a lie detector test. And for a psychopath, passing a polygraph is as easy as breathing.
All the things that a polygraph measures—blood pressure, pulse, respiration—go wonky in a psychopath when we’re under pressure. Tests conducted on psychopaths show that our heart rates actually slow down under threat. We became calmer and more focused. We are not like other men.
So, yeah, a polygraph? Bring it.
The detective’s eyes flicker with resentment. He doesn’t believe a word I’m saying, but there’s nothing he can do about it. That cheers me up enormously. I flash him a big, insincere smile.
“We’ll be in touch,” he says coldly.
I smile at him as he picks up his folder and turns to go. “It seems as if you’re drawing your own conclusions, Sergeant. But I tell you what. I’m going to offer a hundred-thousand-dollar reward for anyone who can give information about what happened to Tamara Bennett.”
I’m angry that I have to say that name.
She is Toy, and she is mine.
And somebody is fucking with me. Somebody who’s going to die.
* * *
Toy
