The search warrant for his Georgia residence turned up an empty apartment. They’re still trying to find any other record of a Michael Haywood.

“Haywood? Blackwood? Think there’s a connection?” Knoll asks me.

“I don’t know. He had to have that name before I was on the case. Just a coincidence, I guess.” I hope.

We’ve been watching the interrogation go on for hours. Sealed away in another room, Knoll, the rest of the agents and I have been trying to parse what little we’ve learned for any kind of lead to more evidence.

He didn’t expect to be caught, at least not this soon. Of that much I’m certain. We just don’t know how much has already been put into place.

Also, nagging at the back of my mind is the larger question: Is he acting alone?

So far, everything he’s done could have been accomplished by one person. It’s an incredible and difficult achievement, but we’ve found no reason to think that anyone else was involved other than an unwitting accomplice in the case of Katya. And that’s the damning thing; I don’t know what’s more unsettling—that one man could do this alone or that there might be others out there.

Dr. Chisholm says Haywood’s behavior fits the classical loner profile to a T. Which is odd, because nothing else about him does.

We may have figured out his methods, but not his larger plan. Personally, that’s the most maddening thing to me. It’s one thing to have a credible theory about how he pulled off the previous murders. It’s another to deal with the idea that we don’t know where this was going to go from here. Ailes and his team have been doing their best to see if there are any other victims out there. Our worst fear is that a double for Rosa is locked in a basement somewhere starving to death.

There’s an arrogant expression on his face whenever he’s asked a question. He knows his really important secrets are still his own. We haven’t said anything to the press about our suspicion of his identity. Our ability to connect him to the Warlock is so circumstantial that we’re not ready to go out on that limb yet.

He looks up at the camera again. For the first time he says something more than a monosyllabic answer. “Is Agent Blackwood there? I’d really like to meet her.” His voice is calm.

Our agent in the room asks him if he’ll be more cooperative if he gets to speak to me. He just shakes his head. He doesn’t want to say or do anything that implies he’s attached to the crimes the Warlock is accused of.

“I’m not letting you anywhere near him,” Knoll tells me.

“No argument here.” The last thing I want to do is gratify his ego. But if I thought it would help, then of course my answer would be yes.

Our interrogator tells the man a meeting with me is not going to happen.