“Yeah, I already said it twice. Can I sign the damn form and get on with this?” he asked, wiping chip dust on his T-shirt. There was something childlike in his mannerisms and the way he spoke, a lack of awareness about others around him. Wishard placed the form in front of him. He gave it a cursory glance, scrawling his name and shoving it back toward her.

“Okay, first things first. Tell me, how long have you known Maureen Wilson a.k.a. Mo?” Wishard asked.

“Long enough,” Vic said flatly.

Wishard sighed, clasping her hands in front of her. “The condition of the agreement you just signed is that you cooperate. That means answering all our questions in full.”

Vic rolled his eyes, like a petulant teenager. “I met Mo two years ago. We looked out for one another. There’s no law against that,” Vic said.

“There is actually. A very serious law preventing adults from cohabitating with unrelated minors,” Wishard said.

“I’m nineteen. Not a minor,” he said matter-of-factly.

“You were a minor when you met Mo.”

Vic’s eyes widened, sensing he’d just walked into a trap, but he shrugged. “Can’t prove anything.”

“That’s true. Let me ask you this. Was your relationship with Mo sexual in nature?”

Vic leaned forward, a menacing expression in his eyes. “Say that shit again…”

Wishard was a skilled interrogator. There was no doubt about it. Her question warranted a strong reaction and she got one. She held up her hands in polite surrender. “Would you care to tell me about your relationship with the other people in your group?”

She glanced down at a file in front of her. “Kelsey, Andrea, Eli, Nate, and Leslie. Would you say you were all close?”

“Sure. Streets are a fucking war zone. You’ve gotta have people looking out for you.”

“Is that why you all got the same tattoo? So people would know you were all together?”

“Not sure what you’re talking about. I got a lot of tats,” Vic asked.

“I’m talking about that one,” Wishard said, pointing to the skull and eye combo on Vic’s forearm.

“We thought it was cool. Not everything has to have some kind of deeper meaning,” he said. Becca thought back to Mo’s analysis of the tattoo. No way that Vic was going to admit that the tattoo was some kind of gang symbol.

“Let’s talk a little about how you all survived out on the streets. I’m guessing the stolen bags and wallets we found in your possession are related.”

“People lose things. If you pay attention, you can find them.”

Wishard pulled out Ash’s knife sealed up in an evidence bag and set it on the table. “So this weapon we found on you? Who lost this?” she asked.

“Nate gave it to me. Said he didn’t need it anymore.”