“I don’t think the killer would show a nervousness like that,” she added.

It was the same nervousness and confusion he showed when they questioned him at his door, when his chest broke out in hives.

Warren still stared off through the one-way mirror and nodded his head.

“He certainly doesn’t fit a textbook definition,” Warren replied and Tara knew he felt it too. “But sometimes you can’t be too sure.” He then turned to Tara. “That’s how killers like Ted Bundy go undetected for so long.”

A silence fell around them. He was right—you could never be too sure—and only evidence would be able to rule him out.

Suddenly, Tara realized why Warren probably came into the room in the first place.

“Did forensics give us results yet?” she asked.

Tara’s words sent a jolt through Warren and he quickly lifted his eyes away from the Kenny.

“Not yet. They should have results soon. In the meantime, we should question him now,” he added as his eyes moved again to the suspect.

***

Tara and Warren entered the interrogation room and upon entry, Kenny McNamara immediately lifted up his head to reveal his furrowed brow and red, blotchy skin.

Tara walked over to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down across from him. Warren took a seat next to her. She held a folder in her hand and as she placed it down onto the table, she could see Kenny flinch slightly at the sight of it. He darted his eyes from the folder to Tara and met Tara’s eyes briefly until he cowered and quickly shifted his eyes back down to the ground.

“You want to start by telling us why you ran?” she asked.

“I…uh…” He kept his head down, afraid to look up, and Tara could see the red rash begin to spread further out on his chest like a disease spreading through his body. “I’m not really sure why I did that.” He looked up at his own words. “It was stupid…so fucking stupid.” He gritted his teeth as he spit out the words and shook his head. “How much trouble am I in?”

“How much trouble are you in?” Tara repeated with surprise. It was an odd question for him to ask. If he were fully aware that he could be charged with multiple murders, he would know to assume the worst.

He just stared at her and when he didn’t respond she continued. “Whose blood was on your kitchen floor?”

“Whose blood?” he replied with surprise. “I told you, I was hunting.”

“And what were you hunting exactly?”

“Uh…” The overhead light shined down on him, drawing attention to the film of sweat glistening on his forehead. “It was a deer.”

“Is that the truth?” Tara questioned. “Because we are going to know either way very soon when the lab results come back.”

“Uh…” A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face and he raised his shoulder, wiping his cheek into it. “All right, fine, fine…” he burst. “I hunted illegally.” He suddenly grew silent, afraid to go on, but then decided to speak again. “It was a mountain lion, all right?” He rammed his cuffs into the back of the chair. “Shit!” he yelled. “I’m in deep shit, aren’t I?”