Contents ( 83)
- Contents
- Author’s Note
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Chapter 71
- Chapter 72
- Chapter 73
- Chapter 74
- Chapter 75
- Chapter 76
- Chapter 77
- Chapter 78
- Chapter 79
- Afterword
- About the Author
And his smile was wax. That damn smile.
“Yes?” Madigan said casually into the phone, though Dance noted a white thumb where he gripped the handset.
“Detective?”
“What?”
“I’m here with Agent Dance. She’d … like to have a word with you? If possible.”
His incredulous eyes started to swivel toward the mirrored window too, then he restrained himself.
“At this moment?”
“That’s correct. It seems important.”
“Wonder how she ended up in there.”
Did the stalker know what was going on? Dance couldn’t tell but he continued to look at the mirror.
“I’m busy.”
Dance grabbed the phone. “Detective, let him go. Don’t arrest him.”
After a moment, Madigan dropped the phone into the cradle. “Edwin, have some water.”
“I want to leave,” he repeated, the essence of calm.
Madigan ignored him and stepped outside. It seemed like a matter of seconds before the door flew open in the observation room and he was storming up to Dance.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“You’ve got to let him go. If you don’t have probable cause—”
“This’s my case, not yours.”
She knew she’d embarrassed him in front of his people. But she couldn’t help herself. “You have to let him go.”
“Just ’cause you figured out somebody dropped that light on Bobby Prescott doesn’t mean I want or need any more of your opinions.”
So, she reflected. Dennis Harutyun had given her credit for that deduction, back at the convention center.
“He has to be released.”
A jagged edge in his voice, Madigan said, “So you’re on his side now?”
Dance found she was quite angry. “It’s not a question of sides. It’s a question of proving a case. Edwin may very well’ve killed Bobby. But if he goes to trial and gets off, that’s double jeopardy. He’s gotten away with murder.”
“I answer to Sheriff Gonzalez, not you.”
“Let him go and monitor him. It’s the only way to make a case.”
“And what if he gives the deputy the slip and decides it’s time to kill Kayleigh. Like Rebecca Schaeffer.”
The actress who was murdered in Los Angeles some years ago. Her tragic death at the hands of a stalker had led to California’s enacting the first anti-stalking law in the nation.
“Well, you saw his—what do you call it, kinesics? That’s your expertise, you were pretty quick to tell me. Was he lying when he said he was being set up? You’d trespassed into the observation room by then, hadn’tcha?”
“I couldn’t tell under those circumstances. I didn’t have time.”
“Ah.”
“He’s asked to leave and you haven’t let him. That’s a problem.”
Madigan looked at Edwin in the room. The young man had pulled out a pen and pad of paper and was jotting notes. A lot of them.
Madigan called to Harutyun, “Book him. Cuff him and get him to detention. Breaking and entering at Bobby’s only at this point. I know there’s evidence for that.” He turned to Dance. “Crystal’ll take you to your car and you better go now. You being in here’s trespass and, as you can probably tell, I’m in an arresting mood at the moment.”