He motioned to Kate and Hans. “I’m ready,” he said. “Let’s go in.”
“I’m going to observe for now,” Hans said. “I think he’ll be more defensive if a psychologist is in the room. He’ll know we’re out here, but not seeing us will make it seem like you’re three agents-equals-talking about an unfortunate situation. I’ll come in if I feel it necessary.” He glanced at Stockton, who nodded his agreement.
Noah and Kate stepped into the interview room. Mallory sat straight in the chair, his legs shackled but his hands free. They were flat on the table in front of him. An untouched cup of water sat in front of him. He appeared almost serene, and he smiled when he saw Kate. “Marriage becomes you, Kate,” he said. “I’m glad to see you happy.”
“Does this face look happy, Mick?” Kate said.
“Actually it does. It’s in your eyes. That no matter who or what you’re facing, you have someone to go home to. I’m really pleased for you.”
Kate released an exasperated sigh. “This is Special Agent Noah Armstrong.”
Mick nodded at Noah, but said to Kate, “I never thought you’d be teaching at Quantico, though. You were always on the go, always moving. Sitting in a classroom must drive you up a wall.”
“We’re not here to catch up, Mick. So let’s cut to the chase. This is Noah’s case; it would really help if you answer our questions. Minimal fuss-you already know you’re going to prison. Cush situation, too, because it’ll be federal, and you’re a cop, so you’ll have a nice private room.”
Mick shook his head. “I would never survive in prison.”
“The guards will consider you a hero. They won’t let anyone touch you.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Noah opened his notepad and put an end to the small talk. “We’re executing a search warrant on your house, your apartment in D.C., WCF, and Frances Buckley as we sit here and chat. I have two agents following Biggler. Who do you think will crack first?”
Mallory said nothing.
Noah continued. “We have enough evidence to hold you. Simple possession of a firearm is enough.”
Mallory smiled. “Any attorney worth half their pay is going to get everything tossed. Because you have nothing except circumstantial evidence. I know it. You know it. Rogan stopping by my house is one thing-he’s a P.I. But whether or not Kate knew her husband and Rogan were paying me a visit doesn’t matter, because no judge is going to buy that a civilian consultant to the FBI didn’t know better.”
“We’ve put together a file of all the parolees who were arrested on a parole violation through the WCF program, and all those who were killed.”
“Fascinating.”
“Prenter is the one who screwed you up. You would have gotten away with Morton. Unless of course ballistics on the bullet matches one of your guns, but I think you’re too smart for that.”
Mallory smiled and shook his head, as if he had a secret.
“But Prenter-it was Lucy Kincaid who figured it out,” Noah said. “Isn’t that damn ironic? After reading about Prenter’s murder, she spent all weekend pulling together data that she’d saved on each of the parolees she chatted with online. Your people didn’t grab his cell phone, where a message from her account-that she didn’t send-sent him to Club 10.”
Mallory wanted to say something but visibly restrained himself.
Noah let the silence draw out for well over a minute. But Mallory got himself under control, and Noah realized that silence wasn’t going to get the killer talking. Some criminals couldn’t stand the quiet, and after only minutes of Noah staring or taking notes would blab everything, as if in relief.
Mallory wasn’t an idiot.
“The parolees, Morton, Prenter-I get those. Hell, I wanted to enact my own Wild West justice from time to time. You’re probably thinking, no jury would give you the death penalty because you took out child molesters and rapists. Prenter? That might be a little harder, since he was a college kid convicted of date rape. But, a good lawyer-I suspect the government doesn’t want this to go to trial at all-will probably settle it all out of court, because really, do any of us want a big fat spotlight on the flaws in our criminal justice system? Or a slew of copycat vigilantes?
“But,” Noah continued, “there are civil cases. Even if you pled out, you’d have Prenter’s very rich family suing you for all the sordid information and whatever money you have left. We’ll have the press crawling up our ass for details. You wanted to protect Lucy? You just made her the star attraction all over again.”
“Bullshit.”
“Really, what do you think the press is going to write about when they find out that Lucy’s rapist was one of the victims of the vigilante group that she was unwittingly working for? Her past is going to be headlines and it’s your fault. We can do this either way, but if you give even a little thought to Lucy and what she’s going to suffer through-again-then you’ll talk to me.”
Mallory clenched his fists. “I want to speak to Lucy.”
“Never,” Kate said.
“You want to know everything? I’ll tell Lucy. I have nothing more to say to either of you.”
Mallory leaned back and crossed his arms.
After several minutes of trying to get him to talk, but encountering only silence, Noah and Kate left the interview room. As he shut the door, Noah said, “Shit, that didn’t go over well.”
Hans shook his head. “It was brilliant. Perfect. Let’s call Lucy.”
“No!” Kate said. She glanced around the room. “Where’s Dillon?”
“Phone call,” Hans said. “Kate, he
“I’m not putting her through that.”
“Kate, this is the only way.”
“I don’t like the idea either,” Rick Stockton said to Kate, “but I agree with Dr. Vigo.” He glanced at his watch. “I need to brief the director. Let me know what happens with Ms. Kincaid.” He left as Dillon returned. The psychiatrist’s face was ashen.
“What happened?” Kate asked, going to his side.
“Cody Lorenzo’s dead. There was a suicide note, but the police are suspicious.” He stared at Mallory through the one-way glass. “Cody was investigating Prenter’s murder.”
“You think he stumbled onto something?” Kate asked. “And Mallory killed him?”
“I didn’t think Mallory would kill a cop,” Dillon said, shaken.
Hans said, “Maybe he figured out that Cody was stalking Lucy. He was protecting her.”
“Hans, I don’t want to hear ever again that Mallory wants to ‘protect’ Lucy! He is a manipulative, righteous bastard who’s playing God, even now!” Kate was livid.
Hans asked Dillon, “You said the police are skeptical that Lorenzo killed himself?”
“There was a suicide note with Cody’s body, but there were errors in it-referring to his parents when his father died years ago, for example. They’re checking with a handwriting expert now. When Sean picked up Lucy, he convinced them to send it directly to FBI headquarters for analysis, and they agreed.”
Kate said to Dillon, “Mallory won’t say another word. He wants to talk to Lucy.”
Everyone turned to Dillon. When he didn’t immediately say something, Kate exclaimed, “You can’t seriously consider letting her!”
“Lucy’s all grown up,” Dillon said, his voice cracking. He stared at Mallory through the one-way glass. “She needs to make the decision. We can’t do it for her.”
Sean ached seeing Lucy so withdrawn. By the time he’d driven into his garage, she’d gone from tears into a trancelike state, her big brown eyes full of anguish. He’d do anything to erase her pain.
He’d sat her on the couch in the family room, then sat down next to her, her hands in his. “Luce, can I get you anything?”
She shook her head, but looked up at him, her eyes rimmed red. “Hold me?”
Sean pulled her into his lap and cradled her. She shouldn’t have had to ask. He should have known she needed to be held, to be assured that she was safe when everything around her was crashing down.
Rare, deep anger burned his chest, directed at the bastard who was sitting in FBI headquarters right now.
