Now that he was refreshed and restored, his expression turned defensive. “About what? Thad’s death? I keep telling you, I wasn’t there!”

The chief gave me a slight nod.

I leaned forward in my seat. “So tell me, Matt. How do you feel about rape charges?”

He blanched. “You can’t—”

“Why?” I asked steadily. “Because she wasn’t human? Because she was a mythological creature without a birth certificate? Because she has no legal rights? But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t exist, does it? How did it feel? How did it make you feel? Like a god? King of the world? Like a true son of Triton, a Master of the Universe?”

“Don’t—”

Righteous anger stirred in me. “Don’t what? Tell the truth? Tell me, Matt: How did it make you feel? We’re not talking about a naiad. We’re talking about a mermaid, aren’t we? Don’t lie to me; I know she’s out there. Thad drowned in salt water, Matt.” As my wrath rose, the air pressure in the conference room intensified, smelling of ozone. Seven Deadlies be damned; I could use this. Stefan had once told me that in and of itself, passion was no sin. It was deeds that mattered, and this was a deed worth doing. I felt the pressure building against my eardrums and the insistent pulse of my blood beating against them. Chief Bryant grimaced and Matthew Mollenkamp winced, drawing his shoulders in tight, his hands gripping his opposite elbows. I stared at him, keeping my anger intent, focused, and under control. “Go on—tell me! I’m curious. Did you know she was unwilling? A captive? Did she struggle? Did that make it good for you? Did that make it better for you?”

“No!” he shouted. “Jesus, what’s wrong with you?”

Trusting my own instincts this time, I didn’t answer, letting my anger drain away. The chief remained silent.

That day, I learned that it’s never pretty to watch someone break down entirely. Matthew Mollenkamp began to shiver, breathing fast and shallow, sweat dampening his hair. He picked up the soda can, but his hand was shaking so badly he had to set it back down. He closed his eyes and began murmuring under his breath, rocking back and forth in his chair.

It took me a moment to recognize the words to the Lord’s Prayer.

The chief let him finish. “All right, son,” he said in a gentle voice. “How did you get drawn into this mess?”

Mollenkamp’s lips moved soundlessly. He paused, then tried again, the words emerging in a faint whisper. “There was a website.”

Chief Bryant shot me an inquiring look, and I shook my head. I had no idea what he was talking about. “What website?”