“How did you get him in the car to take him to the courthouse?”
“I tazed him. Tied him up. And then I put him in the car. It wasn’t that hard. He folded up quite nicely in my trunk.” I scratched the end of my nose, because it was suddenly itching.
“So you dumped him in the trunk.”
“Well, folded him up in there. He was very comfortable.”
“Then you drove to the courthouse in the middle of the night and tied him to the post.” He reached into his desk for a piece of gum. I knew he used to smoke, and he only reached for gum when he was stressed. “And then, after you knew he’d been safely found, you went home and wiped all the footage from the security cameras in front of the courthouse.”
“And the ones from the shop around the corner, and the deli, and the pawn shop.”
His brows would have hit his hairline if he’d had a hairline. “You wiped all those?”
“Just a few hours of their recorded time. They probably didn’t even notice.”
“And you did this because you read my files and figured out where they were.”
“Yes.” I ran my sweaty palms down my pencil skirt.
“And before you started working here, did you ever do this kind of thing?”
I scratched my head. “I used to do volunteer work at the women’s shelter. And sometimes I helped moms find their kids’ dads who had done bad things.”
“And what did you do to them?”
“Well, I notified the cops about some of their whereabouts.” I cleared my throat. “And a few of them…” I held my finger and thumb about an inch apart. “Just a tiny few I helped to see the errors of their ways.”
“Which involved…?”
“Talking. That’s all.”
“Talking about what?”
“Well,” I said, “some people are very simple. If you find out what they love most in the world, and then threaten it, they will change their ways.”
“How long has it been since you volunteered at the shelter?”
I shrugged. “A couple of years.”
“And you haven’t done this since?”
“Well, not until I saw your files. But then you told me to come to you instead, so that’s what I’m doing now. I’ve found four more.” I jerked my thumb toward the office area where I’d been working. “I was going to bring them to you later today.”
“I’d like to see them.” He shoved the two stacks that weren’t mine toward me. “I’d like for you to look at these and find anything that can help me figure out who did it. Can you do that?”
“Sure.” I took the files and stood up. “Is that all you needed?”
“Yes. I just want you to work on that.” He nodded toward the stacks.
“Okay.” I turned to leave but then turned back. “Are you mad at me?”
“Do I look mad?” He shuffled some more papers around.
“You know I can’t tell.”
Finally, he smiled. It didn’t look like a real smile, but it was close. When he smiled for real, like when he’d asked me to dinner at the mall, the scar beneath his eye folded a little at the edge. This time, there was no fold, so I felt like the smile was more for my benefit than actual joy. “I’m not mad.” He held up one finger. “A little stupefied. But not mad.”
I smiled at him. “You stupefy me too,” I said. And he did. I couldn’t tell up from down some of the time.