“Can I help it if nobody wants me?” he replied despondently.
Riley was startled by his change in tone. He wasn’t beingwise-assed now. He seemed to sincerely feel unwanted. And Riley didn’t doubtthat that was true.
“Aw, don’t make me cry,” Wightman said in a mock whine. “At leastyour dad puts up with you. But then, I guess that situation isn’t all thatgreat, maybe for either one of you. Tell me, are you going to live with thatdrunken old bastard forever?”
Brad grimaced bitterly and didn’t reply. But Riley sensed a wholeworld of meaning in his reaction. She remembered the hulking, drunken man whohad met them at the door. She’d known right then that Fred Cribbins must havebeen a violent, abusive father. Brad had almost certainly grown up in a stateof what she’d heard psychologists call “learned helplessness.”
Sadly for Brad, Riley guessed that he’d grown up without evenrealizing that he had become physically much stronger than his father, who wasnow pretty much a wreck from years of drinking. Fred Cribbins probably stillbeat his son whenever he felt like it. Brad didn’t know how to fight back—andhe didn’t know how to move out and live on his own.
Riley’s interest mounted as the interview continued. The sheriffwasn’t getting a lot of information out of him, but Riley was still gaininguseful impressions. Brad kept slipping into that wise-ass attitude of his—anattitude Riley was sure he’d shown Yvonne Swenson during the many times he’dbeen called into the vice principal’s office.
This told Riley a lot about how Brad dealt with people. He didn’tdare stand up to his father, so he took his aggression out on other authorityfigures, usually in the form of snide insolence.
He felt like he had little to fear from people like the sheriffand Yvonne Swenson. After all, it wasn’t like they were going to beat him.Getting arrested now and again didn’t seem like such a big deal.
The guy’s a sad case, she thought.
But was he a murderer?
Riley couldn’t yet tell.
Finally Sheriff Wightman seemed to tire of Brad’s smirkingevasions. He came out of the interrogation room into the booth with Riley andAnn Marie.
“I’m done,” he growled. “He’s all yours.”
As she and Ann Marie went into the interrogation room, Riley hadfour case folders tucked under her arm—not only the ones for Yvonne andAllison, but for the earlier disappearances of Henry Studdard and Deena McHugh.Riley had already instructed Ann Marie to always let her take the lead duringthe questioning.
Not that Riley didn’t want the rookie to speak up at all. Rileyknew that her “people skills” would probably come in handy as the interviewwent on.
Meanwhile, Riley knew that she and Ann Marie both needed to playthe “good cops” after the surly performance Sheriff Wightman had just given.They needed to put the suspect at ease, at least for the moment.
Riley smiled warmly at Brad as she and Ann Marie sat down acrossthe table from him.
As she set the folders on the table, she said in a kindly voice, “I’dask how you’re doing, Brad. But I don’t guess you’re having a very good dayright now.”
Brad slumped and sighed. “No, I can’t say that I am,” he said.
“Well, Agent Esmer and I will try to keep this short. Maybe thisis all a misunderstanding.”
“Does that mean I can get out of here soon?” Brad asked.
Riley tilted her head sympathetically.
“Not right away, I’m afraid,” she said. “You resisted arrest backthere. A bit roughly, I might add. You know that’s against the law, and youmight get charged for it. But if you just answer my questions, maybe we canmake things a whole lot easier. Maybe we can kind of play down the knife, forexample.”
“That sounds good,” Brad replied, looking interested for thefirst time.
Riley opened the folder for the Deena McHugh case and showed hima picture of the middle-aged woman.
She said, “Tell me, Brad—do you recognize this woman?”
Brad shook his head.
“Are you sure?” Riley said. “It’s really important for you to besure.”
Brad scoffed. “Hey, I’m not sure of much of anything right now.But she doesn’t look familiar to me.”
Riley exchanged a glance with her partner, inviting her to pitchin.
In her kindly, mortician-like manner, Ann Marie said, “Her namewas Deena McHugh. Does that name sound familiar?”
“No,” Brad said. “Did something happen to her?”
Riley gave Ann Marie a nudge, signaling her not to answer thequestion. If Brad really was the serial killer they were looking for, it wasbest not to complicate things by telling him things he already knew. Their goalwas to get him to tell them everything himself.
Riley opened the folder for the Henry Studdard case and showedhim the picture of the long-missing boy.
“What about this boy?” she asked. “His name was Henry Studdard.”
Brad shook his head again.
“Are you sure?” Riley asked again. “The picture’s pretty old.”
“I guess I’m sure,” Brad said. “Should I know him?”
Again, Riley didn’t volunteer an answer.
Instead, she studied his face closely. She remembered the “math”Ann Marie had done in the car. Henry had been thirteen when he’d disappeared,and Brad was probably twelve or thirteen. Riley tried to imagine Brad as hemight have been in the beginning of adolescence—slighter, more awkward, butfull of raging emotions.
Would such a boy have been capable of murdering a younger boy?
She wasn’t yet sure, but she thought maybe he might be.
She opened the folder for the Yvonne Swenson case and showed hima picture of the slain vice principal.
“I’m sure you know who this is,” she said, not disagreeably.
“Yeah, but what’s the point of getting into that?” he said in adefensive tone. “The sheriff and his cops really put me through hell when shewent missing. It was a waste of time. I had an alibi.”
Scanning the report, Riley said, “Yeah, you were working at themall, and your workmates vouched for you. Sorry to dredge up ancient history,but we’ve got to be thorough. I hope you understand.”
Brad let out a grunt of dismay.
“Anyway, you definitely knew Ms. Swenson, right?” Riley said.
“Oh, yeah,” Brad growled. “And if you want to know if I’m sorryabout what happened to her, I’m not.”
“You didn’t get along?” Riley said.
“Nope.”
“Why not?” Ann Marie put in.
Brad snorted.
