her hands folded tightly in her lap. 'I know you told me about the Change, but it's not the same. Not the same as seeing it firsthand.'
'I'm sorry,' he said again. 'I'd undo it all if I could.' He scooted closer and put his arm around her, ignoring the slice to his heart when she jerked involuntarily.
'We've got to find a way to get past this, Livvie.' He turned her face gently toward him. He dipped his head to touch her forehead softly with his lips. 'I love you.'
Her eyes shimmered with emotion, but she didn't cry. 'I don't know how I feel, Jack. I need some space… and time. I need to figure things out.'
He told himself she was still in shock, that later she'd acknowledge her feelings for him. She loved him, of that he was certain. But he didn't know if that was enough for her.
He nodded and minutes later watched the taillights of the patrol car until their red glow dwindled to the same size of the nothingness in his own dark heart. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he hunched his shoulders and crossed the parking lot to the Blazer a deputy had retrieved for him.
Inside, he folded his arms over the steering wheel and rested his head on them. Jack was terrified that nothing – even time – could undo what Olivia had witnessed in the abandoned church. He started the patrol car and accelerated onto the freeway, exorcising his frustration through reckless driving as he sped toward Bigler County.
Chapter Thirty
Deputy Harris had arrived an hour before Jack and already processed Howard Randolph. The Judge waited in the bullpen. He explained that Jack had a seven-day grace period before he must start Dr. Davis' continuing drug regimen. After that, permanent damage to major organs would compromise his long-term health. Probably kill him.
That wasn't Jack's main concern right now. As primary on the DLK case, he had a responsibility he wouldn't shirk, and he had no intention of leaving the interrogation to the Judge or anyone else. Only Jack would know for certain which crimes belonged to the man they now had in custody. Legally they couldn't be positive that all seven murders had been committed by Randolph until they'd sifted through endless tons of forensic evidence, necessary proof for a conviction. Seven counts of murder with special circumstances.
Jack knew in his gut, knew with his extra senses, that Randolph was his man, and eagerly prepared himself to confront his long-time nemesis.
In the interrogation room Jack bit back a wince from the pain in his right kidney that fentanyl. The Judge leaned his heavy bulk against the wall. Slater and the ADA watched from the viewing room.
Howard Randolph sat opposite Jack as he slapped the grainy photos one picture at a time onto the interview table in front of him. Randolph's sneer grew with each photo.
'Laura Jean Peterson.' Slap.
'Henry Walker.' Another slap of slick cardstock on wood.
'Angela Buckley.' Slap.
'Susan Evanston.' Randolph shifted and his eyes wandered with curiosity to the Judge behind him. 'Pay attention, you slime ball,' Jack ground out.
Randolph swung his gaze back to Jack. A chilling smile curled his lips.
'Carl Bender.' The sharp smack of Jack's palm on the table resounded through the room like a firecracker.
Randolph blinked.
'Keisha Johnson.' Jack tapped his finger against the picture. 'Remember her, Howard? Course you do. She's the one you saw from time to time in Dr. Gant's office. She's the one you wanted to watch having sex with Ted Burrows.'
Randolph's voice dripped with superiority. 'You have nothing on me, and even if you did, you couldn't possibly fathom what happened with these… ' His hand swept over the array of photos. '… offerings.' He laughed softly. 'Your precious Olivia understands. She was willing to be the greatest sacrifice of all. She
Jack catapulted across the table, his chair slamming to the floor with a resounding crack. He grabbed the orange fabric of Randolph's inmate jumpsuit and jerked him to a standing position. 'You sick son of a bitch,' he growled, breathing heavily into the prisoner's face. 'I should've killed you back there in the church.'
Recovering quickly, Randolph stretched his neck and eased out of Jack's grasp. 'Yes,' he smirked, 'but you didn't, and even if you manage to prosecute me successfully on one or two of those charges, I'll very much enjoy my reminiscences. They bring me
Jack shoved him back in his chair. His hands itched to throttle Randolph, to unleash the beast and rip this monster to pieces. But he glared instead, barely holding his fury in check.
'You had your chance to kill me,' Randolph taunted. 'I wonder why you didn't?'
His eyes glinted with amusement. A smile played at the edges of his mouth. 'Did you decide that the role of Roger was too dark even for your black soul? Too bad you intervened, Jack. I had a special
Unexpectedly, Slater entered the room and placed a hand on Jack's arm. He shrugged it off.
Slater gave the Judge a knowing look. 'Judge Linders, I know you're going to respect the fact that this is my station house, and for the moment at least, my prisoner.'
After a long, steady look, the Judge left. Slater took Jack's place in the chair opposite Randolph while Jack turned his back to them, breathing deeply to gain control.
With his cuffed fists, Randolph smoothed back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. After a moment, he held his hands. 'Remove these and I'll tell you about them.'
Jack turned back, wondering what game Randolph played now.
Randolph gestured with his head to the grisly display of photographs on the table. 'Wouldn't you like to know the
'You sick bastard,' Slater said. 'No one's going to take those cuffs off.'
The request had fostered an idea in Jack's mind and he stepped forward, nodded toward the door and stepped outside ahead of Slater. 'Why not uncuff him?' he suggested. 'Let's give him a chance to explain.'
'Has he lawyered up yet?' Slater asked.
Jack shook his head. 'He doesn't want a lawyer,' he snorted. 'He wants an audience. No decent attorney would let him run his mouth like that.'
He drew in a deep breath and waited until the Judge and Waylon Harris disappeared around the corner. 'Randolph is evil. He doesn't want to ease the pain of the victims' families.' He glanced meaningfully at Slater to gauge his reaction.
Understanding crossed his old friend's face. 'All kinds of dangerous things happen when a suspect's cuffs are taken off.' He eyed Jack thoughtfully.
'Things like attempted escape,' Jack agreed. 'Attack on a police officer. The stress of interrogation often takes its toll on someone.'
'Stroke or heart attack?'
Jack returned the stare. 'What do you propose?'
His friend bent his head and nodded as though he were coming to a personal conclusion, and Jack knew what it would cost a man like Slater.
He laid his hand on Jack’s shoulder and spoke quietly in his ear. 'I’m going to take a break now,' he explained carefully. 'Barrington’s on his way. You’ve got maybe fifteen, twenty minutes before the D. A. arrives and makes sure Randolph gets his public defender.'
Jack kept his gaze steady and voiced with his eyes the unspoken message. Fifteen minutes then. Whatever Jack did would be covered up just like when he'd killed Olivia's stepfather seventeen years ago.
But at what personal cost?
There were a hundred ways to kill someone and make it look like something else, and Jack was an expert at
