She rolls her eyes, holding her notepad and pen on her lap. I desperately want to hold herhand so I can run a reassuring thumb over her knuckles. But I can’t here. Not when we’re our professional selves. As soon as we’re out of this shit hole, I’m going to rectify that.
“I think you should take the lead on this one,” she says. “He’ll trust you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. One request, though.”
“Okay?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.
“Ask him where he learned sign language.”
“Sure . . . any reason why?”
“Just a hunch.” She shrugs, focusing back on her notepad.
I lean down, whispering low in her ear. “I wish I had access to that big, beautiful brain of yours. I’d find out all your secrets.”
“Not here,” she warns. “Not right now, Jonesy. I’m serious.” She clenches her thighs together. I love how quickly I can turn her on, leaving her in a mess.
“Why? Are your panties getting wet?”
She says nothing, but the telltale sign of pink flushing up her neck gives her away.
She looks straight ahead, ignoring me, and I get a thrill of satisfaction zipping down my spine. I shouldn’t be pushing her, not when we’re about to do something so serious. But Katie needs this. She’s been so tense and so highly strung for so long; she needs to remember to relax, to have fun, to feel desired in a primal way for who she really is, not just for being someonethey think she is.
“Murphy, Jones. They’re ready for you.”
We’re ushered into the same dank gray interview room as before, and once we’re seated, Maddox is ushered in. His wrists are handcuffed in front of his bright orange jumpsuit. He’s thinner, his skin gray and lifeless. All signs of hope seem to have left him.
“Hi Connor, how are you?” Katie asks.
“Fine,” he mutters, rubbing his wrists where the handcuffs had dug into his skin.
“Do you remember us from last time?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
Okay, one-word answers. I might start with Katie's question to get the ball rolling.
“I wanted to ask you, where did you learn sign language?”
He glances at Katie, shuffling in his seat. He’s slouched, his body facing away from her and toward the door to my right. He doesn’t trust her, and I’m only getting half his face, so it doesn't look like he trusts me much either. But Katie was right in thinking I should take the lead on this one.
“Do you remember a guy named Billy Knox?” he asks.
I think for a moment, but the name is not jogging any memories.
“They call him Bronco,” he adds.
It hits me, and I smile. “I served overseas with Bronco. Good man.”
“He’s my cousin.”
No way. What a small world. I’m surprised he hasn’t reached out, but maybe he doesn’t know I’m working the case.
“I had no idea,” I say.
“Yeah, he’s the reason I wanted to join the military. One of the reasons, anyway. He told me about you. When you were overseas. He said that you were a good man, and you helped him when he had tough days.”
