I ignored the itchy feeling that had everything to do with the pencil and almost nothing to do with the papers in front of me, and I pulled the papers back toward me. I lifted the first one. “I left him tied up on the steps of the courthouse.” I lifted the second one. “I had him meet me for a date, and then the cops showed up.” I shrugged. “I called them, but still.” I lifted the third one. “I found him and made sure the cops knew where he was.” I tapped the last one. “And this one, I tied him to a post in the subway.” I rushed to add, “I made sure they were all safe! I promise. I stayed until someone picked them up.”
“And the security footage?” He rubbed his forehead.
“I wiped it all,” I said.
“How did you do that?”
“I may have hacked a few accounts.” I winced, because his face was suddenly stormy. “But I haven’t done it since you told me not to! As soon as you told me that my actions could get you in trouble, I stopped.”
“These were all you?” he asked, tapping the small stack again.
“All of them.”
“Are there more?”
I shook my head and avoided his gaze.
He motioned toward the other two stacks. “And these?”
I shook my head again. “Those weren’t me. But I can look at them and I might be able to find a pattern or two.”
“You didn’t…” He stopped and took in a breath with his eyes closed. Then he forged on. “You didn’t kill anyone?”
“No.”
He showed me one of the files. “This is the guy they call Danny the Dick. He was shot right in the center of his forehead.”
I looked at the picture. “That’s not right in the center. It’s a few millimeters off.”
He looked at it again. “Is it?”
“Yes.” I said nothing else.
“It looks pretty precise.”
“If I had done it, it would be perfect. And it’s not.” I shrugged. “And I would have used a .40. They’re more precise.”
“You can tell that’s not a 40-caliber bullet? From the picture?”
I nodded. “I can. That’s a sloppy shot. And I’m never sloppy. Not when I shoot.”
He flipped the page. “You ever chop anybody’s dick off?”
“No. Never.” I could say that honestly. I’d been tempted a few times, though.
He went on to another. But he didn’t ask me any questions about the other ones. He was obviously thinking.
“Thank you for telling me,” he finally said. “The one you left on the courthouse steps. How did you find him?”
“Oh, he found me, actually.”
His brows drew together. “How?”
“I stopped at the bookstore, and he was there. I recognized him from one of your files, so I followed him home. That’s all.”
“And you put yourself in danger?”
I shook my head. “I was never in danger.”