Page 16 of 1st Shock
Mickey throws a look at the sketch, then scrutinizes it more closely. He sits forward and–yep, there it is—I can tell by the twitch in the left corner of his mouth he recognizes the face. He stares at the girl's eyes and his breathing grows faster, shallower.
My stomach sinks at his obvious tells. Damn. She's one of his.
At least this victim and her family may get closure after all.
"Who is she?" I tap the picture, bringing Mickey's attention back to the present, instead of the past attack he is mentally reliving. Bastard. "How did you find her? Why did you target her?"
One of his nicotine-stained fingers touches her hair, brushes across the lips. "My sweet, sweet Tonya. You were quite the fighter, weren't you?"
Meg stiffens, gripping the seat of her chair. I know she's battling the urge to slap Mickey's hand away.
I'm doing the same. "Tonya who? I need a last name."
His finger slides down the poor girl's jawline to the base of her throat. "Don't remember, but what I do remember is the way her pretty blue eyes bugged out when I put my thumbsright here."
He starts to demonstrate, and I know Meg will come out of her seat if he does, so I pull the sketch away and slam my fist on the table, startling them both. "Why her, Mickey? Tell me or the interview is over."
He shrugs it off, once more slouching in his chair and looking at me with hard eyes. I don't miss the way his gaze drops to my throat before he sighs audibly. "You know why."
"I want to hear you say it."
I feel Meg's scalding look—she probably wonders why I don't list the identifying common denominators to speed this up. But I wanthimto confirm the details. You never give a criminal the facts, you make him admit them on his own.
"Come on, Agent Schock, or is it Dr. Schock? I never could keep that straight—you're a Fed, a psychologist...wait, you're a bitch. Maybe that's what I should call you. You know my profile as well as anyone. You know why I killed those girls." He leans forward again, flashes a cunning smile. "You know why you're reallynotmy type."
"My partner is not familiar with your MO," I say offhandedly, as if his smile isn't pure evil and makes my skin crawl. "I figure you want to fill her in. You always told me I didn't really understand you. If I detail your official profile, I'll probably get something wrong, won't I?"
His ego is far too big to not take the bait. Killers like him love to gloat and who does he have in this penitentiary that wants to listen?
He glances over at Meg, smug. "College girls, athletic, and blond. Book smart but no common sense. They believe they're invincible, go running by themselves at night or are too busy looking at their phones instead of who might be in the dark parking lot when they leave the bar. You know the type. Lots in D.C., always pretending to be so important. Tonya was one of them, perfect body, running by herself at night in Hollings Park. It was all too perfect, too easy, to snatch her and show her just how insignificant she was."
Hollings Park. Only half a mile from the Beltway.
"So it's about power for you?" Meg doesn't miss a beat. "Feeling superior?"
At least she didn't ask about the absence of rape. I'm proud of her for not giving up that detail, which is vital since Mickey here couldn't get it up unless he killed them first. Luckily, he wasn't into necrophilia.
I fill Meg in on a bit of Mickey's history. "Mickey had an abusive mother, and took it out on his sister's dolls, decapitating them with his bare hands. Mommy forced him to sleep in their locked basement, told him no woman would ever love him—he goes for the throat of his victim as an act of shutting up his mother."
"The bitches deserved what they got," Mickey replies, shooting me a glance since I fall into the 'bitch' category. He taps his thumb on the table. "Interview is over. I want my cigarettes."
The door opens and Dan, the guard, steps in with three cartons of Marlboros. He sets them down as I give him a questioning look. "Complements of the Justice Department,” he says.
JJ strikes again. How in the world he came up with them in the time I've been sitting here is beyond me. He's probably already figured out Tonya's last name and notified the detectives in charge of her case.
Lyrics from an old Heart song swim through my brain.He's a magic man.
I give Mickey my best hardass glare and place my hand on the cartons when he reaches for them, pulling them back toward me. "One more thing. We have another sketch to show you."
I nod at Meg. She pulls the one of Emily from the folder. I can see my sister holding her breath as she spins it for Mickey to see. "What about her? Did you kill her too?"
Mickey's eyes narrow before he glances away. "Do I get more if I answer?"
I smile. "I can make it happen, but you have to tell the truth. If you lie, I'll know, and then not only will younotget extra, I’ll throw these in the trash."
He wants the cigarettes so bad he's almost salivating, but his tell is missing—no twitch, no smirk, no change in his breathing–when he glances at Emily again.. "Yeah, her too. "
"Name?" I question.
