Jo Robertson - The Avenger

"Hey, there," Landis protested, "there's no need for that." But Jack saw in the lawyer's speculative look that he understood the score even if Burrows didn't.

"Without acknowledging any guilt," Landis said, inspecting his nails, "we want to know what you expect to learn from Mr. Burrows."

Jack almost laughed out loud. Mr. Burrows. What a joke. As a boy Jack had an old hound dog that treated the bitches around the farm better than Ted had treated these women.

"Don't know what we'll learn yet. We just want a little conversation." Jack stood, walked around the room, and ended up standing behind Burrows. He leaned over his shoulder, his mouth close to Burrows' ear. "Conversation like… who else knew about Mr. Burrows'… uh, proclivities."

"No one – " Ted began before Landis nudged him sharply with an elbow.

"My client admits to nothing. Is that clear?" he asked, glancing toward the recorder. "Off the record?"

Olivia watched Jack switch off the recorder. Were they going to let Ted get away with what he'd done to all those girls?

"Sure. Now, who knew?" Jack's growl was a steel rapier that sliced through the room like a clap of thunder.

Olivia shivered and observed him intently. Now he's going for the jugular, she thought, and Ted didn't have a chance. Jack knew how to handle punks like Ted Burrows.

"No one," Ted stuttered, floundering under Jack's glower. "Uh, well… I – I don't know. I – I didn't think anyone knew. Maybe another grad student? Or someone in the building?" he suggested as if expecting Jack to supply the answer.

At that moment Olivia caught the sudden spark of knowledge on Ted's face and knew he was hiding something. That he'd just made a connection in his mind between what he was hiding from them and what Jack wanted to know.

She rose and moved over to lean against the opposite wall where she could study Jack's face. His eyes met hers across the room and she knew he'd seen the same knowledge.

"Come on, Ted," Jack said, drawing the words out slowly, "you would've wanted to brag, tell someone about the girls. Another man, I'd guess, someone you could share your interesting extracurricular activities with."

Ted shrugged, trying to assume a casual pose, but after a long moment, blurted out, "Cur me rogas?"

A startled moment passed through the room before Jack looked at her. "Olivia?"

A thrill of shock confused her, but she steadied herself against the cool stucco of the wall. Ted had spoken in Latin. Cur me rogas?

Why are you asking me?

Immediately Jack changed his line of questioning. "You know Latin, Ted?"

A slow fusion of color started at the spot where the white of Ted's shirt met his neck, a dull red that inched its way up to his cheeks. He drew the back of his hand across the corner of his mouth before answering. "Maybe. A little," he amended.

"Just a little?" Jack asked, looking at Olivia, sending an unspoken message across the room.

Her mind whirled with the possibilities of Ted's fluency in Latin. She'd have to test him, play him, if she hoped to gain information. Walking back to the table, she sat down, leaned forward, and spoke earnestly to him.

"Prima facie tu es innocens." At first sight you are innocent, she said, lying straight to his face, willing him to believe her. Jack had explained that lying to suspects was allowed unless she was a prosecutor so she didn't feel a bit guilty about prevaricating.

Ted's eyes grew round as balls that matched the circle of his mouth. She realized that he didn't know about her own Latin expertise, probably because she wasn't currently teaching a linguistics class.

"Putasne?" he said carefully. You think so?

"Dic mihi ab initio," she spoke softly, although she knew the others wouldn't know the translation. Tell me from the beginning.

"Sum innocens," he pleaded. "Crede mihi."

You haven't been innocent in a long time, she thought, and there's no way in hell I'll believe you. But she strained to keep her features inviting and receptive.

"Scio," she said, I know . She pushed false sympathy into her voice. Ted Burrows was everything but innocent, was in fact heinously guilty of acts that were beyond her comprehension.

"Vera. Cupio vera," she whispered. I want the truth.

But instead of telling her the truth, he laid his head on his folded arms. "In calamitate sum," he said, his voice muffled within the folds of his shirt sleeve.

I'm in serious trouble.

Sine dubio, Olivia thought, giving Ted a speculative look. Without a doubt. Jack's about to trap you and you're going straight to hell where I hope you burn eternally. You're in very big trouble.

At that moment, a sharp rap sounded on the door and Charles Barrington stepped in, gesturing for their attention. The deputy stayed with the suspect while Jack, Olivia, and Slater met Barrington and Isabella Torres outside the door.

Without preamble, Barrington said, "No deal for Burrows."

"What the hell?" Jack said, clearly annoyed at losing the momentum of the interview. He narrowed his eyes and loomed over the little man.

Barrington took a step back.

Isabella Torres spoke apologetically. "Charles thinks if Burrows is the Dead Language Killer, a deal would be bad publicity for the D.A.'s office."

"I can't risk that," Barrington whined.

"Prick," Slater mumbled under his breath.

"Idiot," Jack growled. "I can get him on federal charges without your cooperation."

"Ted knows somethi – " Olivia began as her cell phone vibrated inside her jacket pocket. She retrieved it and turned away from the others, flipping open the phone before looking at the readout.

A coarse voice boomed from the tiny receiver. "You gringa bitch. You are dead."

Jack must have heard the message because he whipped quickly around. "Bill?"

She shook her head in confusion. "The voice was muffled. I'm not sure, but I don't think so."

"Shit!" He took the phone from her boneless fingers and scrolled the calls received. Blocked.

While Barrington slinked off, Isabella stepped forward and put a sympathetic hand on Olivia's arm. "A threat?"

Olivia nodded while Jack looked as if he'd like to punch someone. He turned to Slater. "That settles it. She has a crazy ex-husband, Diego Vargas, that henchman Santos. Who else?" He rammed his fingers through his glossy black hair, overlong now, she thought irrelevantly. "She can't stay at her place. It's too dangerous. We need to find a safe house for her."

"Don't talk about me as if I'm not… " But suddenly, a growing buzz in Olivia's ears sounded as if she were clawing her way through a swarm of hornets. Don't throw up, she warned herself as clamminess washed over her.

Torres put an arm around her waist.

"You're thinking it was her husband?" Slater asked Jack.

"My ex-husband," Olivia muttered from a distance.

Slater shook his head and continued, "Why bother? He's in the wind and can't make good on any threats."

"Because he's possessive and vicious," Jack snarled.

"At least we know it's not Burrows." Slater said.

Olivia steadied herself and took her phone from Jack's hand. "I'll stay in a hotel for a few nights."

"No, come home with me," Isabella Torres suggested quickly. "I've got plenty of room and only we four will know where you are."

"Oh, no, I couldn't impose," Olivia said, looking to Jack, wondering why he didn't offer to stay with her or let her share Slater's guest house.

Jack frowned and stared at Isabella. "You'll watch out for her?"

"Sure," she replied. "And it's no trouble at all," she assured Olivia.