He wanted these men to leave, yes, of course he did. But he also wanted them to know the truth and to finally have everything out in the open. And if it was true that he was a killer, then they should arrest him, stop him, keep him from hurting anyone else.

From killing.

From killing anyone.

Dead is dead is dead.

But then the desire for self-preservation kicked in and—

“Agent Hawkins.” The voice came from upstairs, interrupting Timothy’s thoughts. “Bring Mr. Sabian up here.”

The big man beside him gestured for him to head to the stairs. “After you.”

66

10:02 A.M.
4 hours left

Ralph and Timothy appeared at the doorway, and I indicated the nightstand beside the bed in the master bedroom. “That’s a nice Beretta you have there.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you use it to hunt with?” Ralph said, which was a bit of a strange question considering how hard it would be to hunt with that type of handgun, but I figured Ralph was trying to feel him out, see how familiar he was with guns.

“Target shoot, mainly.”

“Really? Which range?”

“I . . . used to do it more before I moved to New York City. It’s harder to find a good range here.”

“But yet you keep your gun beside your bed. Is it loaded?”

“I don’t . . . Yes.”

“You don’t what?” Ralph eyed him. “Do you have a permit for this handgun?”

“Yes . . . somewhere.”

“Somewhere.”

“Yes.”

“So if we looked up the serial number, we’d find that it’s a legally registered firearm under your name. I mean, you didn’t borrow it from someone and just forget to return it?”

Timothy shook his head. “It’s my gun. I’m sorry. I wish I could help you two more. I just don’t know what to tell you.”

“Your mirror in the bathroom is broken,” I said, noting what I’d discovered before I invited them upstairs.

“Yes. I was careless. Slipped and hit my head.”

He tipped his hair aside and showed us a bump high on his forehead.

I motioned toward the open window. “Airing things out?”

“The smell can be a lot. Of the cleaning agents.”

“The rain is supposed to turn to snow later today.”

Timothy walked over and closed the window authoritatively. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get back to work.”

++++

Outside Sabian’s house, I said to Ralph, “Well, what did you think of that?”

“He’s a lying son of a . . . biscuit.”

“Nice save there. Swearing off swearing, I mean.”

“Thanks. That guy knows more than he’s telling us. He’s hiding something, and I want to know what it is. He referred to Julianne’s website in the past tense.”

“I noticed.”

“I doubt that Beretta is even his. I should have checked the serial number before we left.”