Asher talks to a guard as Rio stands to greet us, then he gives me a knowing look. “You didn’t have to agree to let the FBI listen. You’ve already done more than enough to further their investigation.”
He has a point, but holding a grudge against the entire FBI because of one bad apple isn’t going to do anything for me.
“I want answers, and I figured, why not help the FBI along the way?”
Rio nods, accepting my reasoning. “It’ll just be me and Agent Dawson listening.”
“And us,” Hunter adds.
Luke reaches for my hand. “I still think you should let one of us go in with you.”
Turning to Luke, I repeat what I told him earlier. “We’ve been over this. If you’re in there with me, he won’t talk.”
Luke searches my face, I’m sure looking for the slightest sign of doubt, but he won’t find any. His shoulders drop. “At the first sign of distress, I’m pulling you out of there.”
Leaning my head from side to side, I reply, “Or I can just stand up and walk out with my own two feet.”
“Savannah…” Luke chastises.
Cracking a smile, I cup the side of his face. “I know. Thank you for looking out for me.” Dropping my hold on Luke, I turn back to Rio. “I’m ready.”
Rio leads me to the door where a prison guard waits to escort me inside.
“It’s good to see you again, Savannah.”
Hearing my name, I pause. It takes me a moment, but I finally recognize the man and note again how his hair is over-styled with gel.
I bet he single-handedly keeps the local cosmetic store in business.
“You too, Brad,” I respond.
He leads me to the booth, and I take a seat, waiting for John. I feel Brad standing close behind me—too close, making me feel uncomfortable.
Brad clears his throat. “I’m sure your dad will be happy to see you again. He was distraught with the way you left things last time.”
I don’t turn around to give him my response. “He’s not my dad.”
“You should respect him as such,” Brad objects.
His comment makes my body freeze. Slowly, I turn my head and find Brad sneering down at me. The door on the other side of the glass creaks open, and Brad finally breaks his gaze and steps back. Fortifying my mental walls, I twist back around to the clank of chains.
John impatiently takes a seat on the stool with an eerily wide smile on his face. We pick up the corded phones at the same time. “My Daisy. My prodigal daughter returns ready to cast aside her worldly possessions.”
“I came for answers,” I correct him.
John’s light dims momentarily. “You’ll see reason soon enough.”
Not wasting time, I get right to the point. “Why did you give the code we wrote to Shawn Winthrop?”
John’s mouth tightens as he attempts to smooth out his expression. When he finally gets his emotions under control, his megawatt smile is back. “Why does it matter?”
“I need this, J—” I cut myself off when his eyes start to narrow. Swallowing my pride for just a moment, I correct myself. “Dad.”
Satisfied, John answers, “My disciple needed some help. He’s not as tech savvy as you and me.”
My face pinches in while I contemplate. “You mean the copycat serial killer.”
“If that’s what you want to call him, sure. Thecopycat.” He uses his fingers on one hand to make air quotes around the word “copycat”.
