I handed Dom a note with questions I’d written down. The notebook paper felt rough on my fingertips. I had to admit I felt a little nervous. After all, he was the senior agent, and I was a newbie. But I also had good instincts about people—and shifters. A trait I no doubt owed to my parents who were both expert interrogators in their own way. Especially when quizzing their daughter about why she was late for curfew. Ahem.
Dom read the list, and then looked at me. “You know this isn’t my first interrogation, right?”
“But it is mine.” I tapped the back of the paper. “People, in general, don’t like to lie. There is always the fear of getting caught, and so when they can avoid it, they will.”
“Interrogation 101,” said Dom. He reread the questions and nodded. “You want to know if she’s a psychopath.”
“Exactly. Psychopaths have no qualms about lying. For them, lying is the same as telling the truth. That’s why lie detectors are ineffective. They test for fear not for dishonesty.”
“Agents can be trained to pass lie detector tests. It doesn’t mean they’re psychopaths. And some people are just really good at lying even if they’re not suffering from a personality disorder,” said Dom.
“Mallory Evans is not a trained agent.”
“How do you know? Seems to me the TSS trains their members to do a lot of things. They’re all about preparing for the so-called war with humans.”
Shit. I hadn’t thought about that. Despite my education and my eagerness to do well, I was still inexperienced when it came to actual field work. That chafed at my ego. Patience had never been my strong suit. “Dom, these questions are meant to make Mallory nervous, force her to come clean, albeit reluctantly, or tell a white lie.”
“In which case, she’s not a psychopath.”
“Or a trained TSS goon.”
He smiled. My stomach dipped at that sensual curve of his lips. The man was too good-looking for his own damned good.
“Okay, Doc. We’ll try it your way.”
God, I loved a man who wanted to do things my way. “Thanks.”
“I’ll ask the questions—and you watch her physical reactions.”
“Will do.”
Dom tucked the list of questions into the folder he held. Then we walked into the interrogation room no bigger than a broom closet. Mallory Evans sat there with red, puffy eyes, her nails bitten down to the quick, and her hair looking like she’d twirled on her head all night. Her hands shook as she fumbled for the bottle of water Connelly had provided for her. Well, hell. She was either the most ingenious psycho ever or terrified. I opted for terrified.
“Mallory, why did you run away when you saw me last night?” I asked.
The curvy brunette sniffed, her dark eyes hardening as she met mine. She remained silent, but I could see the fear in her gaze. She was in full-on bluffing mode.
Dom glared at me, but he was too much of a professional to ream me outright. Yikes. Okay, I’d earned his ire. I’d flipped the script on him without notice, but I wasn’t sorry I followed my instincts. Mallory was on teetering on the edge. I believed we could push her over.
“Innocent people don’t run,” Dom said.
This wasn’t true. Innocent people went on the run all the time because they were scared of being presumed guilty. However, Dom wasn’t trying to determine her innocence. He was using a classic interview technique. Most people didn’t know that law enforcement officers had carte blanche to lie when conducting interrogations. Both human and shifter investigators rely on it as a tool used to rattle the person of interest. Innocent people got pissed-off. Guilty people usually back-pedaled or tried a different story than the one they’d told before.
“I want a lawyer,” said Mallory.
“I want a million dollars,” said Dom, taking the seat across from Mallory. “Looks like we’re both going to be disappointed.”
I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed. Mallory’s gaze darted around the small, dark room. Sweat dotted her brow and rolled down her temples. Her fear was tangible, so much so that I could smell—even taste its acridness.
“I know my rights. I’m entitled to a lawyer.”
“For someone who’s supposedly anti-human, you sure are eager to use their laws.” Dom slapped the file onto the square metal table. Mallory’s eyes were drawn to the manila folder. “We’re in therianthrope territory, Ms. Evans. We follow shifter law. And that means you don’t get a lawyer. You don’t get released. You don’t get a damned thing—unless I say so.”
“Guilty until proven innocent,” I chimed in. “That’s the way it is for us. And you know it.” Unfortunately for Mallory, we served up justice differently than the humans. If a therianthrope received a life sentence of one-hundred years or more, or hell, even forty years, humans would notice the slow aging and our secrets would be exposed. A century ago, shifters found guilty of heinous crimes were killed. At least these days, we attempted reform before ending their lives.
“I won’t talk to no damn integrators,” she spat.
“Brandon Messer was an integrator,” I said casually. “You seem to be dealing with him all right.”
The woman blanched. “He...he’s not. He made a mistake, and he knows now. Knows it isn’t right.”
“So, he’s a convert then? Did you personally convert him?”
“You think it’s funny. You think I’m crazy. That we’re all crazy. But, when the humans come for us, and they will, you will beg us for shelter.”
“Therians have been worried about exposure since the dawn of man. It hasn’t happened yet.”
“In this day and age of technology, how long do you think it’s going to be before the humans discover us? The end is coming! If you can’t see that what I’m saying is true, then you’ve been living your lie among the humans for too long. You think they’re your friends. They’re not. They don’t know you, and if they did, they would hate and fear you.” Her speech was typical TSS rhetoric. I wondered how much of her diatribe was rote—and how much she actually believed.
I’ll admit, her speech made my stomach hurt. She wasn’t wrong about the humans never being able to know me. I had a couple of human boyfriends in college, and I hated constantly having to hide my true self from them, but they were nice guys, and I had two best friends that I trusted with every secret, except the biggest. I often wondered how they would have reacted to the truth. Would they have been accepting of me or terrified of the stranger they’d shared their own secrets with?
“Are you done?” asked Dom in a bored voice.
“You should be praising the efforts of the TSS. We are the last hope for our species.”
“If that’s the case, we’re screwed.” Dom opened the file and pulled out pictures of the three victims.
“What are those?”
He pushed the photos across the table. Mallory looked down at them and blanched. “That’s sick.” She looked at Dom, her expression both appalled and furious. “You’re sick.”
“You just told us how much you hate humans. And you don’t have much respect for integrators.”
Mallory swallowed hard. “I haven’t killed anyone.”
“Hey, Agent Taylor, you like the Blonde Bear Café?” Dom’s stern tone smoothed out.
“Best burger in town,” I said.
“What about you, Ms. Evans?” Dom put the pictures back into the folder. “You a fan of the Blonde Bear Café?”
The switch from the accusatory tone and aggressive questioning to pleasant conversation and seemingly inane queries stunned Mallory into confused silence. I knew immediately where Dom was going with this new tactic.
“Probably not,” I said. “The other night, she turned around and left as soon as she got in the door.”
“Is that the real reason you left the café?” asked Dom. “You don’t like their food?”
Mallory’s gaze shifted from Dom to me and then back again. “It’s all right, I guess.”
“How much do you like the food there, Agent Taylor?”
“A lot. I even have one of those loyalty cards. Every time I eat at the café, the card gets punched. I’m two meals away from a free entrée.”
“You got one of those cards, Mallory?”
“No,” she said cautiously.
“You sure? Maybe you’ve used a friend’s loyalty card.”
Recognition flashed in her eyes. Aha, I thought, we gotcha.
“What are y’all going on about?” she asked.
Dom withdrew another photo—this one a close-up of the punch card. The fingerprint dust on the laminate showed five clear prints. “See these two prints on the left side?”
“Yeah. So?”
“They’re yours.” Dom’s smile was feral. “This card was found at the scene of a crime. And I think you were there.”
Mallory emitted a loud and obnoxious laugh. “That’s what this is all about? The entire compound has touched that card, you idiots. We all take it with us when we go to town to get leadership dinners for Wednesday meetings or when someone is going into town for a meal. You guys are fucking geniuses.”
“So you admit that this card can only be accessed by your TSS compatriots?” asked Dom.
Mallory lost her smile. She’d unwittingly implicated someone in the TSS by IDing the card as belonging to the group. “Well, now, I don’t know,” she said.
“If it doesn’t belong to you or one of your friends, then the only explanation for your fingerprints on this card is that it belongs to the TSS.” Dom tucked the picture away. “Unless you’ve been lying to me, Ms. Evans. So, which is it? You lied about having a personal loyalty card—or you recognize this card as belonging to TSS?”
It took Mallory less than a second to decide she was loyal—to herself. “I recognize it as the group card. There’s a tear on right side. And a blue mark in the middle.”
“How do we find out who used the card last?” asked Dom.
Mallory sighed heavily. “We keep it in the common area in the main building. Anyone can take it if it’s available. We don’t have a sign-out sheet or anything, but Harry will probably know who used it last.”
DOMINIC HANDED ME A Cherry Dr. Pepper while we waited for Connelly to drop Mallory Evans off at her cell and bring us Gary Davis for the next interview. “You’ve got good instincts, Nicole. You did well—even if you did jump the gun.”
“Sorry about that.” I popped the top on the can and took a drink. The sweet carbonation burned its way down my dry throat. “Thanks for the Coke.”
“That’s not Coke. Did you want a Coke? I can get that for you instead.”
“Down in these parts if it’s a carbonated beverage it’s a Coke.” I chuckled. “It’s like saying soda or pop or soda pop. It’s all-encompassing.”
“Why is that?”
“Ah, the sweet mysteries of life.” I took another sip. “Mallory’s not a psycho. Well, I guess I should amend that to say she doesn’t have APD. She’s her own special kind of crazy.”
“She didn’t exactly look away from the photos,” mused Dom. “But shifters are used to the more brutal sides of life. What do you think?”
“She’s reactive. Impulsive. If she was our killer, I think the crimes would be a lot messier—and not as well planned. Our suspect is an organized killer. He has to watch his targets for a while, get a feel for their routines. Then he figures out where best to grab them.”
“If Ms. Evans is any indication of the caliber of TSS members,” said Dom. “I’m not real hopeful the other two will be our killer, either. ”
I finished off the can and belched. Oh, God. I died a little inside. “My bad.” I waved at the air in front of my mouth. I felt my face warm. Ugh.
Dominic laughed. “That’s disgusting.”
“As Mom would say, so not attractive.”
“Your mom says that?”
I shrugged. “I’m paraphrasing.”
“For the record, you could fart and still be attractive.”
“That’s disgusting,” I said.
He laughed again, and the sound sent shivers up and down my spine. God, he had was too freaking handsome and funny and charming for my own good. My body language must have reflected my romantic thoughts because Dominic took a step toward me. He reached up and stroked a stray lock of hair back behind my ear. My traitorous vagina clenched.
I sidestepped and turned my back to him afraid my lusty thoughts would be written all over my face. “I think we should stake out the compound.”
“You’re still bothered by how easily the TSS handed over our suspects.”
“Doesn’t it bother you?”
“They might thumb their noses at the FBI,” he said, “but they’re not stupid enough to defy the Tri-Council.”
“Maybe. I think they’re hiding something. But it might not have anything to do with our case.” I pivoted back toward Dominic. He was leaning back on the interview desk, his long legs stretched, and his arms crossed over his chest. My throat went dry. Damn, I needed another Coke. “Maybe I should go alone.” I shook my head. “I mean, I can take Eldin. He can help me identify the people going in and out of the compound. It’s practical.”
Dominic’s expression darkened. “Practical. Right.”
“It’s just an idea.”
Connelly knocked on the open door. He guided Gary Davis, a short, stocky man with chestnut brown hair into the room. After he got him seated on the suspect side of the interview table, he nodded to Dom and me. “Holler when you’re finished.”
I nodded back. “Thanks, Michael.”
Dominic closed the door after Connelly left the room, and we both took our places on the other side.
Unlike Mallory, Gary was unruffled. Stoic, even. “I haven’t been to Springfield in two years,” he said before we could ask our first question. “On the night in question, I was at home watching a Mission Impossible marathon on US TV with my wife.”
“Really? Which movie were you watching when the storm knocked out the power?”
He frowned. “What the hell are you talking about it? The power never went out.”
Hmm. I leaned forward. “Well, your alibi is easy enough to check out. We’ll talk to your wife. Verify US TV ran a movie marathon of Mission Impossible movies.”
Davis started tapping his thumb against the table. “I didn’t do anything.” He sounded uncertain, nervous.
“We never said you did,” said Dom coolly.
“Then why am I here?”
“Because we have evidence you dropped the TSS loyalty card at a crime scene.”
“I told you. I wasn’t in Springfield.”
“What makes you think the crime happened in Springfield?” asked Dom.
Gary leaned back and crossed his arms. “It’s a small town—news travel fast, especially when human law enforcement starts sniffing around. Those shifter murders aren’t exactly top secret. Even the humans know about the Little Piggy serial killer. And we know that some guy was abducted in Springfield.”
“Not just a guy. An integrator.”
I watched Gary’s expression turned to disgust. He curled his lip. “Shifters are the superior species. It’s downright shameful to watch our own kind mix with humans. Integrators will be the downfall of the therians—just you wait.” Gary gave us both the evil eye. “I don’t know anything. And I didn’t do anything.”
“I think we’re done here,” Dominic said. “If we have any more questions for you, Mr. Davis, we have your number.”
Gary relaxed, but his gaze was still distrustful. “Can I go home?”
Dom looked at me. I nodded. He got up and opened the door. “Deputy, can you go ahead and get the release paperwork ready for Mr. Davis?”
After the Davis was taken from the room, Dom said, “You tried to trip him up with that power outage question. I’m impressed.”
“Be impressed with my mother. It’s her technique. If I said I was at my friend Cynthia Stinger’s house, but Mom thought I was trying to sneak off with a boy, she’d say something like, ‘I ran into Cynthia’s parents at the market, and they said they went they had a power outage at their house. That must have been awful.’ And if I said, the power never went out, then she would say, oh, maybe it happened on a different day.”
Dom raised his brow at me. “Your mom invented her own lie detector test.”
“Yeah. If I hadn’t been at my friend’s, I would have said something like, oh yeah, it really sucked, and she would have me cold—and I’d be grounded till kingdom come.”
“Your mom should have gone into law enforcement.”
I grinned. “My dad says the same thing.”
“Davis didn’t bite, though,, so we’re presuming he’s telling the truth.”
I nodded. “For now.”
Connelly escorted in Tolliver. The man’s thick blond hair was choppily cut, and he had an unruly beard that reached his chest. He looked angry. I knew immediately he wouldn’t fall for a “Mom special.”
He was forcibly placed in the chair, and I noticed a red bump rising on Connelly’s forehead. The deputy grumbled. “He surprised me.”
“Did he hit you?” I gave Tolliver a look that I hoped conveyed just how stupid I thought he was for assaulting a police officer at a police station.
Connelly grimaced. “He tripped me and hit my head on the cell bars.” The deputy gave the prisoner a quick, light slap against the back of his head. “Behave,” he said as a final warning then took his leave.
Dom and I sat down across from him. Dom took the lead.
“Mister Tolliver, can you tell us where you were three nights ago?”
His response was an abrupt, “No.”
I hadn’t resistance after the first two interviews. This could be interesting. I nudged Dom and pointed to my folded list of questions.
He nodded. “Mister Tolliver, do you consider yourself an honest man?”
Tolliver looked surprised. “Uhm, sure. I guess so.” The first question was just to throw him off balance.
Dom put his elbows on the table. “Did you play sports in high school?”
I loved that my partner didn’t even blink as he asked. Tolliver tugged at the bottom of his shirt. His shoulder movement indicated he was wringing his hands. “I...I, no, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
Defensive. Interesting. This guy was insecure.
“What did you have for breakfast yesterday?”
He tucked his chin. “A bowl of cinnamon and raisin oatmeal, a cup of skim milk, and dry wheat toast.” He glared at Dominic. “The doc says my blood pressure is too high.”
Dominic glanced at me. That was my last question. I wanted to get a baseline for how he responded to a question that required details and description.
“I like cinnamon raisin oatmeal,” I said.
“Good for you,” Tolliver responded. “When can I get out of here?”
“As soon as you answer our first question. Where were you three nights ago?”
“I’ve been answering.” He threw up his hands. “Fine. Home. I ate dinner and went to bed early.”
“What did you eat?”
“Do you have a food fetish or something?”
“Answer her question.” Dom’s voice was the scary kind of quiet, and Tolliver noticed.
“I ate pork chops.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe you, Mister Tolliver.” I looked at Dominic. “I think he needs more time to think about his alibi.”
Sweat darkened Tolliver’s T-shirt. “I don’t need a freakin’ alibi.”
“Your prints were found at the scene of an abduction—three nights ago.”
“That’s...no. I...who was abducted? Someone in town?” He rubbed his face. “Jesus. I’m all over this town for supplies and such. I don’t kidnap folks.”
“Then where were you?” I pressed. The fact that he thought the abduction took place in Peculiar told me that he probably wasn’t our culprit.
“Son of a bitch. If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone.”
“If it’s not pertinent to the case, there won’t be any need to share the information publicly.”
Tolliver rubbed his face again then wiped his fingers on his pants. “I was with someone...married.”
I fought a gasp because at the heart of the matter I was still a small-town girl and this was juicy gossip. I will not tell Mom. I will not tell Mom, I repeated to myself. “Will this person vouch for you?”
He shrugged. “I think so. But don’t approach her with people around, please.”
“I promise.” I crossed my heart.
Tolliver nodded. “It’s Audrey Halliver.”
I fought off another gasp. Audrey and her husband Halliver owned Halliver’s Hilltop Motel. Did he and Audrey do it in one of the rooms? I will not tell Mom. I will not tell Mom.
“You’ll stay in custody until we verify what you’ve told us.”
Tolliver nodded.
“Okay, then.” Dom pushed back from the table and stood up. “Be nice to Deputy Connelly, or you might end up staying another night on principle.”
When the room was cleared, I sagged against the wall. “That was a colossal waste of time.”
“Lunch?” Dom asked as he packed away the case files.
“Sure.”
Connelly knocked outside the open door and poked his head in the room. “Something’s happened.”
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Brandon Messer just showed up with his dad.” Connelly shook his head. “Brandon found a dead body near his trailer.”
“Did he know who it was?”
Connelly took a deep breath and blew it out noisily. “He’s real shook-up. I don’t think he got more than a peek.”
“If it’s Lieberman, it’ll support our theory that the killer lives in Peculiar.”
I didn’t want to believe anyone I knew was capable of being the Little Piggy murderer. “The unsub dumps the bodies at their homes. Dumping a body here would be completely off script.” I looked at Connelly. “Where’s Dad?”
“Sheriff Taylor is already on his way.”
Dominic strolled toward the door, his body charged with raw energy. “We’re going too.”
Connelly stepped out in front of him. “Sheriff Taylor says that until they know who the victim is, this is town business, not FBI business.”
“Then file it under Tri-Council business. Every therian death falls under my jurisdiction.”
I looked at the squirrel shifter who was standing between a rock and a hard man. “Look, Michael. I know this involves your in-laws. You should go be with Roger and Brandon until we get back. Roger’s probably a wreck.”
Connelly’s eyes reddened. “Selena keeps calling and texting me. I’m worried this stress is going to affect her pregnancy.”
“Then you need to do what you can to protect her brother.” I put my hand on his forearm. “You may not trust my partner but trust me.”
He stepped back from the door. I looked past him to Dominic, who had waited for me with his back turned. He’d heard what I’d said to the scared deputy. “Thanks. It’ll be okay.”
“No, it won’t,” said Connelly, “but thanks for saying it.”