“Maybe I’ve changed my mind.” I haven’t, but I’m in no state to give him information about what’s going on in my head.
He gives me a weighted stare. “Why would you do that?”
“Get out.”
“You’re not being wise about this.”
What’s not wise is having you in my car,I think.
He’s examining me, and I stare back. I can barely breathe. My spine is a steel cable.
“Crosbie, what’s going on?”
“Youtell me. How did you know about the possible third sketch subject?”
“Tim Mooney? He confessed. I’ve been trying to get a hold of him to interview him as well, but frankly, you confessing right now is more important than getting an interview from him.”
“He confessed along with a lot of others. Why did you zero in on him?”
“I’m good at my job.”
“That’s not an answer. And you know details on him that are beyond what you could dig around for. Specific things that were private.”
“What are you talking about?”
“How do you know he got a fright? That that’s the reason he gave a more thorough confession?”
He half smiles. “Is that what this is about?”
I don’t answer.
“Ask your agent friend,” he says.
“Alderson told you?”
“No,” he says. “The other one. Guess she likes my smile.”
I shake my head. Unbelievable. So Miss Perfect and Miss Precise and Miss Protocols is not so perfect after all. I can still hear Greene berating me in the observation room. Now I have a thing or two to say to her.
I stretch across Jeremy and open his door. “Please,” I say. “Out. Now.”
Finally, he steps onto the street.
I watch him watch my car through my rearview as I drive away.
On my way home, I refocus on Ewing’s apology, to suckle on that feeling of vindication and satisfaction like it’s a pacifier. But it can’t compete with the desolation I’m feeling after the fight with Jess and the maddening talk with Jeremy and the throat-closing thought that I’m nearing the end of my last day. And to add to it all, I can’t kick a niggling sensation that I’m missing something vital, something lurking at the edges of my mind, just beyond reach.
None of it matters, though. The plan stands: use myself as bait.
I call Greene. She doesn’t deny that shemighthave let the information slip about Mooney, the third sketch near-victim.
A deep relief washes over me. He was being honest. But still, he was too conveniently, so coincidentally, in both Dallas and now here.
But with Greene’s less-than-direct-yet-obvious admission that she’s the source of the leak, I decide that even though I booted Jeremy out of my car, I will use him after all. If he’s not the killer, he’ll work anyway. If he is the CA, I’ll be ready. I inform Greene that I intend to confess, but not until the seventh day.
“Why do it at all, then?” she asks.
“I have to,” I say.
