Page 33 of 1st Shock
JJ rocks on his heels and crosses his arms. "He's right. We need to look at all the angles."
Perfect. Two against one. I'm only agitated because I know they're right. I pace past the window, biting my bottom lip so I don't start yelling. How long does it take to put in a few stitches? "I want to go to the prison tonight."
"Best I could do is tomorrow morning," JJ says.
I whirl on him. "I'll drive myself. Tonight."
He stays calm in the face of my anger. "They won't let you in. They won't even letmein."
What? "You're a U.S. district attorney! You can get in anytime you want. You're not trying hard enough."
He doesn't sigh out loud, but I feel the contained exasperation like a pulsing anger between us. "It's been a long day so I'm gonna let you slide on that. We have to handle this carefully, Charlize, and you know it. Going to see Wilson once without his lawyer present, we got away with. In fact, we're lucky he didn't ask for them. A second time? He's not stupid. He'll either lawyer up or start claiming harassment. He's not directly involved in an open investigation—he lied about Tonya—and the cold cases do not have concrete evidence linked to him, as Matt pointed out, to justify questioning him again without his lawyer present. Which isn't happening under any circumstances until tomorrow."
I bite my lip again and turn away, purposely breathing out through my nose. Control.Stay in control.
JJ is right. Matt is too. I have to rein in my chaotic feelings and rely on my cool, levelheaded training.
Another breath.
Mickey will eat up all this attention. It's not like he gets many visitors, and now, a second from us, and this one requires his lawyer?
Visitors... Something in me, a thread, pulls taut.
My head snaps up. Once again I turn to JJ, just as Meg is coming around the corner, her hands full of snacks.
"What did Mickey say?" I roll my hand, trying to tease it out of my brain. "The day we were there? Something about a visitor?"
"He said it was his lucky day," Meg chimes in as if she's been part of our conversation the whole time. "That we were the second visitor he'd had that day."
I snap my fingers. "We need the log from Tuesday," I say to JJ.Please don't let it be his lawyer,I think to myself. "We need to know who came to see him before we did."
JJ takes out his phone. "That I can do."
Haley and the doctor emerge from the exam room, Haley looking pale but no longer shaking. Probably because the anti-anxiety pills they gave her kicked in, and I have the feeling she's going to need more of them as she processes the fact she was attacked and nearly had her throat slit by our killer.
Meg shoves the snacks at Matt and reaches for Haley, grabbing her hand and pulling her close as the doctor reels off instructions. After he's done and walking away, she turns to me. "Why?" she asks about the log. "What are you thinking about the other visitor?"
It's just a hunch. I have no reason to believe Mickey's visitor could actually lead us to the man playing with us, teasing us, believing he's smarter than we are. But in this way, he is much like Mickey. While there's no solid proof—the kind Matt needs—my instincts tell me the two men have worked together. They at least know each other.
I don't want to get everyone's hopes up, but you better believe no matter who it is, I am going to be in front of Mickey first thing come morning. Serial killers have a unique psychology. Most are loners, but some work in pairs.
"Charlie?" Meg brings me back. She knows the answer to the question before she asks it. "You think this bastard is a friend of Mickey Wilson's?"
I take Haley's other hand and lead everyone down the hall. "I think our killer's identity has been in front of me this whole time and I was too damn dense to see it."
15
Meg
"Devante Bales."
I pause while reading the file Charlie handed me before I walked out of our office and hopped into Matt's Mustang. It's a beautiful morning and on the other side of the roadway the spring sunshine glistens off dewy trees. After this road trip, I might need some time outside, in the woods not far from our office. It's impossible to be sad in the woods. At least I think so. There's something about the earthy smells and fresh air that clears my mind. I suppose that's why I enjoy sitting by the Silver Tail. But there's no time for that today so this will have to do.
"Devante Bales?" Matt muses. "Never heard of him. What's his story?"
I look back at Charlie's insanely organized and typed notes. Me? I'd do it by hand and have comments in all the margins.
"He's a PhD student at American University. Twenty-four years old. Father is a doctor, mother a college professor."
