4

2:20 P.M.

TWO OF the detectives in the room grabbed each other. The chief clasped his hands together in relief. Riley had been a part of countless interrogations over the years, and he’d seen it happen in various forms. The breakthrough. The moment the witness gave it up, out of vanity, guilt, frustration, relief, coercion.

Now the tough part, he thought to himself. There hadn’t been much question of guilt, not since they looked inside Burgos’s house. This was now about something else entirely.

“I have shown you five photographs of women who were murdered,” said Detective Joel Lightner, suddenly aware of the tape recorder and its inability to pick up what he’d done. “You rearranged them in a particular order. And you are asking-”

“Where’s the first one? Ellie?” Terry Burgos repeated the question, shaking a photo in his hand and then slamming it down. He jumped from his seat and looked off in the distance. At that moment, Riley would have given anything to get a better look at his face. He could only see his profile, which had been an oversight on his part; Burgos should have been facing the one-way mirror.

Riley couldn’t see the order in which the photographs had been rearranged by Burgos, either, but at this point he had no doubt that they were in the order in which the bodies had been placed in that custodian locker.

Burgos’s breathing escalated. He seemed incredibly uneasy all of a sudden, but his feet were planted. A couple of the people in the room with Paul jerked at Burgos’s physical movement, but Riley held out a hand. Joel Lightner was the consummate professional, expressing no alarm whatsoever at Burgos’s mild outburst. Though Joel had left his gun outside the door, he knew there were dozens of officers who could rush in on a moment’s notice.

Burgos, still standing at his chair, slowly pointed to the first photo in the sequence, presumably the second victim, because Ellie Danzinger’s photo had been left out of the mix. This was the woman whose throat had been slit, almost decapitating her.

“Colombian necklace,” Burgos said.

“Colombian what?” Chief Clark whispered.

Colombian necklace. Paul drew a finger across his throat. A figure of speech, slang, in the drug trade. The Colombians would slit the throats of competitors.

Burgos turned to the next photo, presumably of the third victim. “Assault with a battery.”

That didn’t register. Assault and battery? The third victim had been burned. But he hadn’t said assault and battery. He’d said assault with a-

“Battery acid,” Riley mumbled. “Inventory his books,” he called out to no one in particular. “His music, too. Now.” Riley heard some orders issued behind him, and someone left the room.

Burgos pointed to the next victim, presumably the one whose limbs had been removed and eyes gouged out. “Eye for eye, limb for limb.”

A biblical reference, which was consistent with what Riley had seen in Burgos’s basement.

Burgos kept going to the next one, who’d been drowned. “Someone taught her to sleep underwater.”

“This fuckin’ guy,” someone mumbled behind Paul.

Burgos pointed to the next one, the last victim, Cassie Bentley. Cassie’s face had been beaten almost beyond recognition. Paul thought of his own daughter and what it would be like to find her in such a bloody and battered condition. Joel Lightner had told Riley that it would be years before he could eat lasagna again.

“Now it’s time/to say good-bye/to someone’s family,” Burgos said. Paul felt a chill. He was saying it to the tune of the Mickey Mouse Club, for God’s sake. “Stick it right/ between her teeth/and fire so happily.”

Both rooms-the observation room and interrogation room-fell silent. Riley felt a collective shudder among his colleagues. The suspect was making the details of his gruesome murders sound like a corny nursery rhyme.

Stick it right between her teeth, Burgos had said. Yes. Though Cassie Bentley’s face had been beaten severely, the M.E. had found a gunshot exit wound in the back of her head and gunpowder residue in her mouth.

Detective Lightner seemed in no hurry to interrupt the recitation, but, after a good minute, it was clear that Terry Burgos, still standing by his chair, eyes on the photos, was going to require some prompting. Riley, trying to keep his emotions out of this, was impressed that Lightner seemed able to do that very thing.

“You mentioned a ‘first one,’ Terry?” Lightner’s voice was trembling. “You mentioned a name?”

“Ellie.” The suspect-the killer, there was little doubt now-pointed at nothing in particular. “He opens a heart once so cruel.”

Opens a heart. Ellie Danzinger’s heart had been removed.

Paul realized he’d been holding his breath, that he was perspiring. He looked at the chief, who returned the same look that Paul assumed was on his own face-not knowing, really, what to think of this spectacle. It was horrific and bizarre and, yes, exciting.

And they had their man, in less than half a day.

“You’re talking about Ellie,” Lightner said.

Burgos seemed lost in thought a moment.

Of course, Riley knew, Burgos was talking about Ellie Danzinger. Opens a heart. He had sliced her heart out-postmortem, according to preliminary findings. They were already trying to contact the Danzinger family in South Africa. This was the man who had been stalking their daughter, the one against whom they had obtained a restraining order. Paul wondered how hard the family had lobbied for Ellie to leave Mansbury, to get distance from Burgos. One thing he knew for sure: That thought would forever haunt the family.

“She was a gift,” Burgos mumbled.

Lightner cocked his head. “Say again, Terry?”

“Ellie.” Burgos lifted a hand, then slowly raised it to his forehead. “She was a gift from God.”

“Ellie was a gift from God. Okay.” Lightner wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that. He held his breath a moment, even shot a glance toward Riley and the others, though he couldn’t see them.

“What was it you were saying about Ellie?” he asked. “‘Opening her heart’?”

Burgos had drawn his arms around himself. His head angled downward, as if in deep thought. A long moment passed. Lightner held completely still, watching Burgos.

Slowly, Burgos brought an index finger to his lips. His mouth opened, and everyone in the viewing room craned forward.

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