“Those people needed to die.”Walsh's voice carried no emotion, no empathy for the victims.“They were spreading molecular corruption throughout the city.Whoever killed them was performing a sacred service.And if I can help them in some way… even if it’s doing nothing more than wasting your time…”
Miles felt nauseated by Walsh's complete lack of human feeling.The man was discussing three innocent deaths as if they were pest control measures.His apparent breakdown or mental illness couldn't excuse the callousness with which he celebrated the murders.
“Jeremy, you need to understand that three innocent people died,” Miles said.“A kindergarten teacher, a florist, a bus driver.They had families, friends, people who loved them.”
Walsh shrugged.“They were chemically corrupt.Their deaths freed their souls from molecular bondage.”
Miles couldn't listen to anymore.He stood up and headed for the door, his stomach churning with disgust.Walsh's casual dismissal of human life was more disturbing than his delusional theories about chemical contamination.
“Dr.Sterling?”Vic called after him.
“I need some air,” Miles said, stepping into the hallway.
The corridor outside the interrogation room was empty and quiet.Miles leaned against the wall and tried to process what had just happened.They'd arrested someone who desperately wanted to be their killer but lacked the competence actually to have committed the crimes.Walsh's mental breakdown had revealed the real killer's reach, into the paranoid corners of social media, inspiring copycats and admirers.
After a few minutes, during which he simply stood frozen in the hallway, Vic emerged from the interrogation room.
“He's sticking to his story about wanting to commit the murders,” she said.“But he's clearly not our guy.”
“How could I have missed it?”Miles asked.“All the signs were there.His videos, his access to chemistry labs, his paranoid theories.It seemed so obvious.At the risk of sounding uncaring… he’s not all there, is he?”
“No, it doesn’t seem like it.And you know, sometimes what seems obvious is wrong.That's part of investigative work.”Vic leaned against the wall beside him.“You encounter setbacks like this, and you just have to roll with them.”
Miles felt a crushing sense of failure.“I'm starting to think I really am better off in a lab setting.Field work seems to be kicking my ass.I’ve basically been wrong about every lead we've followed.”
“You're wrong about being wrong.Your periodic table theory led us to Diana Hartwell in San Francisco.Your insights about the fluorine murders got us this far.And what was, less than a month ago, just a theory you were hesitant to share, is slowly becoming our blueprint.”
He shrugged.She was right, and he appreciated the encouragement, but this level of failure was worlds.Beyond anything he’d ever experienced in the lab, even on his worst day.
Vic was quiet for a moment, as if she was letting him adjust and adapt, not wanting to force him out of his discomfort.After a while, though, she said, “Miles, the real killer is still out there.Walsh's confession proves that whoever's doing this has inspired other people with similar delusions.That's significant information.”
“How do you figure?”
“It shows that people can be swayed when pushed too hard.If you ask me, it gives us even firmer proof to your idea that there’s some grand master at the center of all this.Walsh represents the kind of person who gets drawn into that ideology and can begin to develop extreme thoughts.”
Miles pushed away from the wall.“We're going to have to face the media and explain that we arrested the wrong person.”
“That's Hayes's problem, not ours.He might not be too happy about it, sure, but that’s not what you need to worry about right now.”
“But the real killer knows we're getting close.Three victims in three days, and now they'll know we're actively hunting them.”
“Which might force them to make mistakes.”
Miles wasn't convinced.The fluorine killer had demonstrated sophisticated planning and technical expertise.Being hunted by the FBI might make themmorecareful, not less.If they’d put so much planning into these attacks, he couldn’t help but feel they wouldn’t make silly, careless mistakes.
He shook his head and gave her a look that he hoped didn’t look as defeated and as broken as it felt.“I… look, please forgive me; I know this is unprofessional, but I just need a moment to myself.”
Without waiting for her response, Miles walked away.Yes, it made him feel like he had his tail tucked between his legs, but he didn’t trust himself to stay cool and collected in front of Vic.He felt something similar to a panic attack coming on and he did his best to hold it down as he walked further away from the interrogation room.
No… this case was proving only one thing.Field work wasn’t where he was supposed to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Miles needed a moment to breathe.He made his way to the break room, hoping a few minutes alone with a cup of coffee might help him regain his composure.He was seething, angry, broken.And he found himself not wanting to be there at all.
He was relieved to find the break room was empty.It was exactly what he needed.He went through the motions of making coffee, letting the familiar routine calm his nerves slightly.The coffee maker gurgled as it brewed, and he stared out the small window at the parking lot below.Cars moved in orderly patterns, people going about their normal lives while he struggled with a case that seemed to have no solution.More than that, he felt like he was struggling with his purpose.He’d so badly wanted to help with this case but he felt that it was literally tearing him apart.
He pulled out his phone, thinking he should text Elena.Just seeing her name in his contacts always made him feel more centered, more connected to something real outside the chaos of work.She grounded him in ways he was still learning to appreciate.After the mess with Walsh, he needed that connection more than ever.
