Page 41 of Girl, Unseen

‘Already on it. Dean Harper's being... cooperative.’

The way he said it suggested cooperation had required some persuasion. Ella made a mental note to ask about that later.

Luca jumped in, ‘Ready to see what Aleister Crowley in here is willing to share?’

Ella had to think about how to play this, because in her experience, perps fell into one of two categories. Ones who never shut up and ones who never said a word even when the gavel came down on a life sentence. Strangely, Felix Blackwood didn’t look like he fit into either category. He just looked lost.

‘I think Aleister Crowley was an occultist, not an alchemist.’

‘Potato, po-occult-o.’ Luca shrugged, unrepentant.

Ella didn't bother correcting him further. For all his book smarts, her partner's knowledge of esoterica began and ended with the History Channel.

She gathered up her files and slipped the 'Quinta Essentia' book inside like a magician palming a card. No need to tip their hand too soon. Let Felix think they were still fumbling in the dark.

Then, once he got comfortable, once he started feeling smug and untouchable... that's when she'd spring the trap.

‘Want me to sit in?’ Ross asked.

‘No. Me and Hawkins have got this.’ She headed for the door. ‘Though stick around. Something tells me this is going to get weird.’

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

In the bowels of the 23rd Precinct, a clock ticked off the seconds between truth and lie. Ella sat across from Felix Blackwood and wondered which one would win.

Ella's legs throbbed where the burns lived. The morning's gymnastics had woken up every nerve ending from knee to ankle, but pain had its uses. It kept you sharp. Meanwhile, Luca leaned against the door behind her. It was a little psychological technique that added to the suspect’s claustrophobia.

The kid in front of her didn't look like much anymore. His black ensemble had lost its edge, dusted with barn debris and stained with his own blood. Under the interrogation room's light, Felix had the lost look of someone who'd wandered into the wrong story. His nose mapped interesting geographies of purple and blue.

‘Let's start simple.’ Ella opened her notebook but didn't look at it. ‘Tell me about yourself, Felix.’

He shrugged. The gesture made his oversized hoodie swim around his shoulders. ‘Not much to tell.’

‘Try me.’

‘Twenty-one. Live in Bedford Hills.’

‘You’re a student, right?’

‘Former,’ said Felix.

‘Must be quite a change. Going from university life to farm work.’

Another shrug. Felix picked at a hangnail. Classic avoidance, but something about it felt wrong. Most killers loved to talk about themselves, couldn't wait to explain their grand theories. Felix acted more like a kid caught stealing candy than someone who'd murdered two people.

‘Tell me about Dr. Thornton.’

That got his attention. His head came up half an inch. ‘What about him?’

‘I understand you two had some issues.’

‘If you want to call it that.’ Felix's fingers moved to a loose thread on his sleeve. ‘He caught me trying to access some books. Got me expelled.’

He got me expelled.It was funny how some people could convince themselves that their own criminal behavior was someone else’s fault.

‘No, you got yourself expelled. Dr. Thornton was just the one who caught you.’

‘Yup. You’re absolutely right.’

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