Wishard pushed a few pieces of paper toward Vic. Glossy slips of paper straight out of a magazine. “Go on. Read all about her. The mansion she lived in, the private schools she attended. Her fancy Ivy League degrees.”

Vic’s body stiffened as he flipped through the clippings. “She lied to you—to all of you. For years, it seems. I understand you care about her, but she hasn’t been honest. We want to help you. First you need to come clean. Tell us what role Mo played in all of this.”

Vic’s gaze hadn’t left the paper, though Becca could see his body tensing, the muscles in his chest and arms flexed as though he were gearing up for a fight.

“Did she use you? Sleep with you and convince you that it was love?” Wishard asked.

“I told you it wasn’t fucking like that,” Vic said through gritted teeth. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“You mean she’s not a sexual deviant? She’s not a sociopath who uses young kids to do her bidding? You sure about that? Because the way I see it, Mo is a woman who gets kids to do terrible things and she gets off on it.”

Vic’s hands were trembling. Becca could see it from here. Vic was shaking his head furiously, his mask of tattoos seeming to tremble along with him.

“Here’s the deal. If you tell me what happened to Ash, if you come clean about the others’ involvement, including Mo’s involvement in these other murders, you might actually get out of prison one day. If not, you’re looking at life, possibly even death row. Do you really want to be put to death because some rich psycho conned you into killing for her?”

Becca prided herself on recognizing body language and nonverbal expressions and energy shifts. Wishard had done her job, digging in deep and pushing Vic’s buttons, triggering his loyalty and devotion for Mo. Her final words were like tossing a match into gasoline.

“Chris… he’s going to…” Becca was too late. They watched in horror as Vic leapt across the table and grabbed Wishard. He let out a primal scream as he slammed her against the wall, watching with a triumphant smile as she crumpled into a heap on the floor.

BECCA

BECCA

In a matter of seconds, Christian was out the door, racing toward the interview room. Frozen in place, Becca watched as Vic picked Wishard up, his hands wrapped around her throat. Becca felt a strange sense of déjà vu remembering her hands around Mo’s neck. Wishard was flailing against him, trying to break free, but Vic’s superhuman strength and single-minded determination spurred him forward.

The door swung open and Christian charged at Vic, knocking him off balance, forcing him to release Wishard. She dropped to the floor, scrambling to stand, leaning against her knees, coughing and gasping for breath.