Angus sat in the interrogation room next to his attorney, whom he’d had to pay ten grand just to shake hands with. “You’d better be worth the money,” he muttered.

The door opened and Tate Bianchi walked inside with a female detective who was nearly as tall as he. She was built like a model and had brown hair, brown eyes, and a stubborn chin. The woman also moved like she could fight.

Tate studied his lawyer. “Scott? How the hell does an ex-government employee afford you?”

Interesting. Angus watched the interaction, letting his skills as a profiler loose.

The lawyer stood and held out a hand. “It’s good to see you, Tate.” They shook hands as Tate obviously readjusted his approach to the meeting.

Tate motioned to his partner. “This is Detective Buckle and we’re working the case together.”

Scott smiled, all charm. “Scott Terentson from Terentson and Terentson.” He shook Buckle’s hand and waited for her to sit before reclaiming his seat.

Angus watched the lawyer out of his peripheral vision. He had sandy blond hair, intense blue eyes, and a decent physique. However, so far, Buckle didn’t seem impressed. “So, Tate. I guess you can complete our interview now,” Angus said. “Does that mean you think I’m guilty?”

“I just want to find the truth,” Tate said evenly.

Buckle focused on Angus. “Lassiter is dead. You understand that, right?”

Angus liked that. Big-time. “As much as I appreciate your direct approach, Lassiter is not dead. I’m sure of it.”

Tate reared back, his nearly black eyes glinting. “How are you sure of it? Has somebody contacted you pretending to be Lassiter?”

“No.” Angus met his gaze evenly. “I’m sure of it because I was the best FBI profiler they’ve ever had and I know these current kills were made by Lassiter. The question isn’t who’s doing this. The question is how the hell Lassiter is still alive.”

Tate shook his head. “You really do sound crazy, Force. I’ve reviewed everything about the night Lassiter died and I’ve interviewed everyone involved.”

“On his days off,” Buckle said softly, no expression in her sharp eyes.

Angus sat back. Apparently he owed his old friend one. “You didn’t find any clue that he was alive?”

“No,” Tate said quietly.

That didn’t change the situation. “Lassiter is a genius with an IQ of about one-eighty,” Angus said. “That makes him unique among all humans. No doubt, he’s smart enough to fake his death to avoid prison. Think about it. It took me almost a year to hunt him down in the first place, and nobody else even came close to finding him.”

Scott leaned forward. “As such, my client wants to assist the police. He’s a valuable source.”