The Inquisitor. Gayle Wilson
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I ever lied to you?” he demanded.
“No,” she said softly. “At least I don’t think so.”
“What does that mean?”
“Is it him?”
“What him?”
The question was too harsh. He’d guarded them against everything he could possibly think of and still she’d somehow learned what had happened.
“The man who killed Mama.”
There was no way he could deal with this. Not from this distance. Not over the phone.
“I don’t know.”
“But you think so. That’s why you went down there, isn’t it?”
“I thought I could help the cops.”
“Because of what you know about Mama?”
“That’s right.”
His heart rate was beginning to slow. Maybe she’d known all along. Even at four, not much had gotten by her. And he had no idea what the social workers had told her before he’d gotten stateside. He’d never asked, and she hadn’t volunteered the information.
“You promise that’s why you went.”
“I promise.”
There was no response. The silence stretched until he wondered if she’d hung up.
“Princess? You okay?”
“I’m okay. But…I really think that even if you haven’t finished helping them, you need to come home for Christmas. For Ryan’s sake. Tell them everything you know as soon as you can, okay?”
“Just as soon as I can,” Sean promised. “Mind Maria, now. Tell her to give you a kiss for me.”
“I will. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Talk to you soon.”
“Bye, Uncle Sean.”
“Bye, sweetheart.”
The line went dead before he was forced to tell another lie. He punched the off button on the cell and closed it to stick it back into his jacket pocket.
Tell them everything you know as soon as you can….
If only it were that simple. That clean. A collaborative effort between him and the local cops.
He knew what was likely to happen instead. Despite the fact that the guy had murdered at least fourteen women, Sean would be arrested if he so much as touched him.
Jenna Kincaid was his ace in the hole. No one could possibly object to his killing the bastard in order to protect a prospective victim. All he had to do was to wait until the Inquisitor made his move against the psychologist, as he was now convinced he would. Then he could avenge Makaela’s murder under the guise of preventing another one.
There would be a couple of people on the national task force who would know what he’d done, but he could trust them to be pragmatic about the guy’s death. One less maniac on the loose. One less murderer to lose sleep over. And one less victim’s photograph to pin on their whiteboard.
No one who had seen those pictures was going to come after the guy who’d put an end to this monster. Nobody involved in the manhunt was going to grieve for that bastard’s death. That was the one absolute certainty he had had going into this.
It was the one he intended to cling to until this was over and he headed back to Michigan to buy a puppy for a little boy and to prove to a little girl that he still had never lied to her.
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