“Whoever killed them was burning on the inside, don’t you think? Suffering from an inhumane pain they could no longer control or contain. Their deaths reek of revenge.”
Fatemeh stared straight ahead, no longer meeting my gaze, jaw tight, hands tighter. She didn’t speak.
“You know what I think? I think Jesse, Ford, and Malik got a little too power hungry one night, drank a little too much, ganged up on an unsuspecting woman at a party, and raped her.”
I let the word hang in the air for a moment. Thick and ugly. “I think this woman, whoever she is, walked away shattered. Stripped of humanity. She will never be whole again. Someone out there knows who she is. Someone finally had enough and decided to do something about the toxic stain on the university. The police didn’t help. The administration practically ignored the issue. But someone needed to stop them.”
“If I’m right,” I added. “I don’t blame this girl. In fact…” I clapped, slow and methodical. “Bravo to them for having the balls to take down the monsters of this world.”
When Rue or Golding listened to the interview, my words and actions would be taken into consideration and evaluated. I had a poor reputation, and they might decide disciplinary measures were required, but no one could accuse me of not doing my job. I could fight tooth and nail that this line of inquiry was necessary. Empathy was a tactic often used to draw out a confession, and that was all I was doing. Empathizing with a potential killer. Luring them into a safety net with praise and respect.
No one had to know how honestly I felt those emotions in my core.
Empathy wasn’t working with Fatemeh. Her refusal to speak was both suspicious and expected. She was cunning and smart enough to know when to stop talking. I held her gaze for a long time, pondering my approach. I needed to shift the interview, throw her off her guard.
Straightening, altering my tone of voice to something lighter and friendlier, I asked, “Do you color your hair?”
Fatemeh blinked, her gaze coming into focus. Her brow creased. “Excuse me? What does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re in your forties. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I imagine your age is catching up to you, and those pesky grays are making an appearance.”
She pressed her lips together. Her hostility had returned.
I quirked a brow. “Yes or no?”
“Yes,” she spat. “Are we almost finished? I’ve wasted enough of my day on this nonsense.”
“One more question. What size shoes do you wear?”
31
Dominique
My phone rang atquarter after twelve as I lay in bed, staring at an obscure rectangle of light that climbed the wall and bled across half the ceiling. Every time a car drove by, it distorted the shape, making it crawl across the room until it settled once again in its original spot.
I rolled, grabbed the phone from the side table, and tumbled out of bed to my feet. Drawing the curtain over the window, cutting out the streetlight and the abstract display painted across the ceiling, I answered the call.
“Did I wake you?” Kobe asked.
“No. Can’t sleep. Are you still at the office?” We had been playing phone tag all afternoon. After receiving Kobe’s message post-autopsy, I’d tried to return his call three times, only for it to go to voicemail.
He had called back after I got home, but I was in the shower and missed it.
Kobe blew out a ragged breath. “Just pulled in my driveway. The interview with Fatemeh lasted for hours, thenGolding showed up and insisted I take her through the whole investigation up to that point, making a long list of things I needed to do yesterday, and why haven’t I solved it yet? Rue called, and I had to regurgitate the interview and Golding’s orders. After that, I made a million phone calls, none of which were received well because it’s a fucking holiday.”
He groaned, and I heard an engine die, a car door slam, and keys jingle.
“And?” I asked.
“And I don’t know what to think. I didn’t feel like I had a reason to hold Fatemeh, so I sent her home. Were you able to narrow down a time of death for Malik?”
I wandered to the kitchen and turned on the kettle before leaning back against the counter. “Not as accurately as you would like.”
“Meaning?”
“Taking all factors into account—the subzero temperature outside, the length of time a body takes to freeze under those conditions, and the state of the body upon thawing—I would say death occurred between twenty-four to sixty hours prior to us locating him.”
Kobe cursed under his breath. “Are you sure you can’t shrink that window?”
