He nodded. “Can I see Davey?”
“No.” I glanced at Tucker. “Take him home. Billy, the bar’s going to be closed for a few days, so take the opportunity to rest and do some serious self-reflection. I’ll call you when we open up again.”
“Okay. Thanks,” he said as Tucker half-dragged him toward the stairs.
“We’re sure he’s innocent?” Bishop said. “On all counts?”
Austin nodded. “He’s got problems, for sure, but he’s no killer.”
“I take issue with that characterization,” Cam said, still seated on his cot. “I never set out to kill anyone.”
“And yet, that’s what you accomplished.” I pulled the folding chair toward his cell and sank into it, well out of reach. “We’ve been through your ‘notes,’ but I have a few more questions to ask you, for the official record.” I opened the recording app on my phone and tapped the red button.
“I’ve already told you everything I—”
“Were you there when your father kidnapped me?”
Cam looked surprised by the question. “No.”
“Did you know he was going to do it?”
He hesitated, but finally shrugged. “Yeah. I gave him your name, after Billy told me about your brother. I figured that meant you had the gene, and that kind of became the cornerstone for our theory. But I wasn’t there when he…did it.”
I took a breath, fighting not to let him see how horrifying this whole line of questioning was for me. “So, your notes about me…?”
“They’re based on what he told me, before you guys hunted him down. Before he even knew you were going to live. He died in triumph, you know,” Cam said. “A fucking martyr for the cause. You were a victory for him.”
“Fuck off,” Bishop growled, and I ignored him, though I respected the sentiment.
“And you got the other names from the locals? The bar regulars?”
Cam nodded. “I already told you that.”
“Were you working with anyone—”
“What about Yvette?” Bishop demanded, ignoring me when I turned to glare at him.
“I told you,” Cam said. “I’d never heard of you or your wife until you showed up at the bar a week ago. I had nothing to do with whatever happened to her. Though I am sorry for your loss.”
Bishop lunged at the cell, and Austin held him back, but he was snarling too, now.
“Were there any others?” I asked. “Any you didn’t document?”
“No. I kept very clear records. Make sure you show those at my trial.”
“Thisisyour fucking trial,” I snapped. “Andthisis the goddamn record.” I held up my phone, which was still recording. “You’ve already confessed. And if you’re under the delusion that this is going to somehow make you famous, let me disabuse you of that notion. You’re no hero. No martyr. Even if my sister lives, you’re not going down in history as some kind of champion for creating another female stray. I’m going to execute you, bury you, fill in the grave, when it starts to sink as your corpse rots, and I’m going to wipe your name from the annals of shifter history. No one outside of this zone will ever know what you did, and in a few years, even the locals will forget you ever existed.There will be no glory for you.”
Not at my expense. Not at my sister’s expense. Not at the expense of the seven other women he’d murdered on some psychotic quest that might only gain traction and copycats, if the details were to get out.
“You will never leave this cell,” I told him.
Cam sneered at me. “Maybe not. But you’ll think of me every time you see your sister. Every time you get even a whiff of her scent.”
I turned to Bishop and Austin, fighting to control the rage burning through me, a struggle they both clearly understood. “Satisfied?”
Austin nodded. “I’m done with him.” He turned to Bishop. “He’d have taken credit for Yvette, if he had anything to do with it. Please tell me you see that.”
Finally, Bishop nodded, his jaw clenched. Unshed tears shining in his eyes. “I’m done with this asshole.”
