She sighed and straightened,feeling one of her vertebrae crack. It had been a long couple of days,following a long couple of months. They weren’t going to get anything out ofPitsis until he was lawyered up, and with the afternoon drawing to a close,there were likely to be complications with that. Lawyers who had left theoffice and needed to be contacted at home, traffic jams during rush hour, allthe rest of it.
And she had done her part. Theyboth had. Enough to get the case wrapped up. All the evidence was there. Therewas no shame in handing things over to Sheriff Petrovski for now—especiallygiven that Flynn had wanted her to go home a lot earlier than this.
“We will let you know when yourlawyer has arrived,” Zoe said, turning and sweeping out of the room. She hadnothing against leaving Pitsis to be uncomfortable in the meantime. He couldstall for time as much as he liked; it was only him who would have to put upwith the stiff metal chair and desk, the bare room, and the lack of food anddrink within the close four walls. It would be a nice rehearsal for him, givenwhere he would be going next.
Zoe found Flynn outside, lingeringnear a video monitor that showed a livestream of the interior of theinterrogation room. “He’s not talking?” he asked, looking up as soon as Zoecame over.
She shook her head. “He wants alawyer. I suppose it should be expected. With the other warrants for vandalism,disturbance of the peace, and theft alone, I would want a lawyer. Let alone forthe murder charges.”
Flynn nodded. “Well, it doesn’tmatter anyway, whether he talks now or later. We’ve got him. A jury isn’t goingto look at that evidence and let him walk away. And we can get the rest out ofhim anyway.”
“You can,” Zoe corrected, givinghim a half-smile. A mechanical movement of the lips and cheeks which she hadattempted to perfect over the years, but which on this occasion—as on manyothers—was not something she really felt. “I am going home, remember? I willstay at the motel tonight and arrange a flight home tomorrow. We both need somerest.”
“It doesn’t sound like too bad anidea,” Flynn said, reaching for the jacket he had slung over a nearby chair. “Iguess Sheriff Petrovski can have him for tonight, once his lawyer comes. Talkto him about the other warrants. Then I’ll pile on him in the morning.”
Pile on him—the imagery wasunnecessarily violent. It brought Zoe’s thoughts back to that moment in thealley, when she really thought for a moment that Flynn was going to pull thetrigger.
“What happened back there?” she asked.“With the gun?”
Flynn swallowed, holding his coatawkwardly in his hands as he hesitated, refusing for a moment to meet her eyes.Then he clenched his jaw and looked up, nodding. “I… lost control, just for amoment. Let my guard down, I guess. I didn’t expect him to punch me.”
“And after you pulled the gun?”Zoe asked. “It looked like you really were going to shoot him.”
“I was.” Flynn turned, starting aslow step toward the back of the room and the hall, the path that would takethem to the exit. “Just for a moment. I really wanted to.”
“Why?” Zoe shook her head, fallinginto step beside him. “Just because he punched you?”
“No, not because of that.” Flynntook a tense breath. Zoe saw his nostrils flaring out by a couple ofmillimeters when she looked sideways, and decided not to rush him. “Because ofthe killing. I just wanted it to stop. I looked at him and I knew he was akiller, and that I could end it right then by taking his life. But I didn’twant to stop justice from being done. I know how important it is for thevictims’ families to get full closure. To understand the why and the how.”
Zoe looked straight ahead, pushingopen the door to the hallway and stepping through first as he followed. “Youhave a particular reason for that strong kind of reaction?” she asked. She’dcome up against many killers in her time as an FBI agent. She’d never wanted toshoot someone just to make them stop killing, not when they were alreadycornered and down. She’d never had another partner attempt it. There had to besomething more to it than that.
“No one gets into this line ofwork without a little trauma in their lives,” Flynn said.
Zoe had to agree. And by the waythat he said it, flatly and matter-of-fact without inflection, she didn’t feellike there was an invitation to ask further questions. Which was fair—becauseshe sure as hell didn’t want to tell him anything about her own trauma, either.
They got into the car and droveback to the motel in silence, Zoe in her own world with the numbers, Flynnbeside her carrying whatever trauma it was that had gotten him here in thefirst place.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Zoe sat on the bed, hearing thesprings creak in protest as she did so. Leaving this run-down, uncomfortablemotel couldn’t come quickly enough, though she was getting tired enough that itstill sounded like a better option for the night than sitting upright on aplane. Zoe knew she needed to take it easy. She could practically hear Dr. Monksaying it in her head, and now that she was back to practicing the techniquesthat allowed her to keep it together, she didn’t want to risk losing it againso soon.
She took another glance around theroom, a visual check. She’d gathered up almost all of her things already, putthem into her travel case ready to go. The only things that remained out werethose that she would need before leaving: a change of clothes, pajamas,cosmetics, and phone charger. Those she could deal with in the morning.
The case was closed. A man wassitting in an interrogation room at
