“Sure. I got ya.”
They arrived at a nondescript door with the number eight on it. Bryn took a deep breath and schooled his features into a blank mask.I can do this.Three years of crap has to be worth something.
His first impression of Dr. Templeton was an anticlimax. He was dressed in prison orange and seated to one side of a table next to another man who had to be his attorney. Templeton was clean-shaven with short gray hair and a slightly hooked nose.Not sure what I expected, but this wasn’t it. He’s so average. Apart from the eyes.Bryn repressed a shudder. Templeton was staring at him and his dark eyes were cold, despite his fake smile.
Agent Bell took one of the free seats at the table then gestured for Bryn to join him. Gunnar lounged against the wall. Bryn wasn’t fooled by his relaxed stance. He was alert and focused. Ready to move if he had to. It was reassuring. Bryn took the other chair.
“The augur will remove his glasses.”
It was Templeton’s attorney who spoke, though he didn’t glance up from his notebook.
Bryn removed his shades, handing them to Gunnar. That made the attorney sit up and take notice.
“So he really is an augur,” Templeton said. “Interesting.”
“He is. Level five certified.” Agent Bell sounded impatient. “As was confirmed to your counsel already.”
“Forgive me for being skeptical,” Templeton drawled. He rested his arms on the table, exposing the wrist cuffs.
“The augur will make contact with your skin. You’ll then answer my questions and he’ll read whether you are telling the truth or not.”
Bryn stripped off his gloves. He rested his fingers across the underside of Templeton’s wrist but the doctor grabbed his hand, squeezing it hard. Bryn closed his eyes. The pain helped him focus, something he didn’t intend to reveal to anyone. A slight throb began at the base of his skull. He could sense Gunnar’s rock-solid presence behind him and that eased his fear.
Agent Bell cleared his throat. “For the purposes of the recording, present in the room are…” He listed everyone by name. “Everard Templeton, did you murder Benny Solomon, aged seven, between July fifth and August twenty-ninth this year?”
“Oh, Agent, I don’t think I’ll be answering that question, or any others from you today.” Templeton’s tone was mocking.
“Truth,” Bryn spoke softly.
“Very well.” Agent Bell gave a pained sigh. “Subject is uncooperative. Bryn, if you would.”
Bryn shifted his focus. It was hard to describe how his abilities worked, but he explained it as a switch. It wasn’t anything physical but in his head he visualized a dial with three settings, one for detecting truth or lie, one to look into the past and another for the future. He could switch from one setting to another with a thought. For someone looking on, he appeared no different, though he had been told that sometimes his eyes flashed.
“What’s going on?” Templeton’s attorney was aggressive. Bryn tuned him out and went looking for Templeton’s most powerful memory.
He saw hands. Hands around a slender neck, squeezing. A small scar on one finger. Whimpers. A sense of utter euphoria as a young life was extinguished. A child’s face, tear-streaked. Sexual gratification.
Sickened, his head pounding, Bryn switched to the future.
A knife, the blade stained red. Bare skin. Myriad cuts. Black leather gloves discarded. His gloves.
“Fuck!” Bryn tore his hand free of Templeton’s grasp. Blindly he reached for Gunnar, grabbed his wrist, and he saw a winding road, the sea, felt exhilaration and freedom. Bryn took long, slow breaths and opened his eyes. Templeton’s hands were flat on the table, the scar on one finger clearly visible. He was smirking.
“He enjoyed it. Got off on it.” Bryn shoved his chair back and stood so he could get closer to Gunnar. “Torture then slow strangulation. I can identify the victim. I saw the child’s face.” He realized he was still clutching Gunnar’s wrist and let go.
“Would he kill again if he were free to?” Agent Bell asked.
“Yes.” Bryn didn’t elaborate.
Templeton’s attorney’s face was an interesting shade of purple. He was visibly sweating. “You can’t use any of that.”
“We can and you know it.” Agent Bell slapped his hand down on the table. “Your client is going away for a very long time. He’s lucky Massachusetts has no death penalty.”
Gunnar handed Bryn his shades and it was a relief to hide behind the dark lenses. He pulled on his gloves and tried to signal to Gunnar that he needed to get out of the room. Templeton’s gazed was pinned on him and his hatred was palpable. Bryn had absolutely no doubt that Templeton would kill him if he could and it would be a slow, painful death of a thousand cuts.
“You need us in here any longer, Bell?” Gunnar asked.
“No. You can both go. Stick around outside, though.”
