Jeffery Deaver - XO

Edwin remained completely placid. “No, Detective. I came to Fresno to get out of the Seattle rain for a time, to come to a public concert… and to pay respect to a performer I like, a woman who’s been nice and frankly shown some interest in me. One of the best musicians of our era, by the way. You accuse me of stalking but I’m sorry, I’m the victim here. You never did anything about my call.”

Madigan’s face revealed confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I thought that was why your deputy Fuentes asked me here. My complaint.”

“Complaint?”

“You don’t know? I have to say that doesn’t surprise me. Saturday night, I called nine-one-one and reported a Peeping Tom, a trespasser, behind my house. But nobody did anything about it. You’ve got, what? Twelve hundred deputies? I just needed one to come out and see where this guy was standing, talk to the neighbors. But did they? No. Not for an out-of-towner.”

With a grim laugh, Madigan responded, “We have four hundred deputies in Fresno and sixty in Madera. They cover over six thousand square miles of territory from the Valley all the way up to the mountains. I’m afraid a Peeping Tom, if there really was one, isn’t going to be all-hands-on-deck.”

Dance noted that if the stalker was on a fishing expedition to get information about the limitations of the sheriff’s office, he’d certainly succeeded.

Edwin kept up the offensive, easy as a June day. “Your hometown girl is, quote, ‘stalked’ and you think it’s the end of the world. I’m a newcomer and nobody cares that somebody’s casing out my house. If Bobby Prescott was murdered and witnesses place me at his house, or trailer, then I’m being set up. Somebody had another reason to kill him and they’re using me as a fall guy. You really have to understand, Detective, I love her. I’d never hurt anybody close to her.”

“You don’t love her, Edwin. You’re obsessed with a celebrity who doesn’t know you from Adam.”

“I think love has to have some obsession to it, don’t you, Pike? Aren’t you obsessed with your wife some? Or weren’t you, at one point?” Edwin had spotted the wedding ring.

“You will not talk about my family!” Madigan sputtered.

“I’m sorry,” Edwin said, frowning. His eyes were enigmatic but belied contrition.

Madigan said, “Kayleigh doesn’t love you at all. You’re way off base.”

Efforts to get suspects to admit they were wrong, or that their beliefs were based on errors, were usually useless, especially in the case of fanatic- or obsession-based crimes like stalking.

Edwin shrugged. “You say that but you know she sent me emails and letters. She practically said she loved me.”

With some difficulty Madigan controlled his anger. He said, “Son, you have to get real here. She sent you the same emails she sent to ten thousand fans. A hundred thousand. We’ve been briefed by her lawyers. You got a half dozen form emails and a couple of form letters.”

“That’s what they’re telling you. Doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Edwin, a lot of fans feel that way about performers. I sent a fan letter to a star once. He sent me back an autographed picture and-”

“ He ?” Edwin asked quickly.

Madigan hesitated a moment. “We got you dead to rights, son. Tell me the truth. Tell me you killed Robert Prescott and we’ll work something out. Tell me and you’ll feel better. Believe me.”

Edwin said, “You know, Pike, I think I don’t want to say anything more. I’d like to leave. And I’d like to pick up my things now. People versus Williams. You have to arrest me or let me go.”

Dance asked Harutyun, “The evidence? It places Edwin at the scene?”

She didn’t even bother to wait for a reply. Harutyun’s shift of eye away from her was all she needed. “He doesn’t have any forensics, does he?”

“We think it’ll probably match… But no, he doesn’t have any yet.”

“Dennis, ask the Chief to come in here.”

“What?”

“I need to talk to him. It’s very important.”

Harutyun examined her, glancing down at the ID on her belt. His mouth tightened beneath the mustache. He realized that she had deceived her way inside.

“I’m sorry,” Dance said. “I had to do it.”

He grimaced and sighed. Then snatched up a phone and dialed a number. They could hear it buzz inside. Madigan looked at it with surprise and irritation. Edwin didn’t pay attention but instead turned and looked into the reflective glass. Since he couldn’t see the occupants of the room he wasn’t focused on either Dance or Harutyun but the mere transit of his eyes in their direction was unsettling.

And his smile was wax. That damn smile.

“Yes?” Madigan said casually into the phone, though Dance noted a white thumb where he gripped the handset.

“Detective?”

“What?”

“I’m here with Agent Dance. She’d… like to have a word with you? If possible.”

His incredulous eyes started to swivel toward the mirrored window too, then he restrained himself.

“At this moment?”

“That’s correct. It seems important.”

“Wonder how she ended up in there.”

Did the stalker know what was going on? Dance couldn’t tell but he continued to look at the mirror.

“I’m busy.”

Dance grabbed the phone. “Detective, let him go. Don’t arrest him.”

After a moment, Madigan dropped the phone into the cradle. “Edwin, have some water.”

“I want to leave,” he repeated, the essence of calm.

Madigan ignored him and stepped outside. It seemed like a matter of seconds before the door flew open in the observation room and he was storming up to Dance.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“You’ve got to let him go. If you don’t have probable cause-”

“This’s my case, not yours.”

She knew she’d embarrassed him in front of his people. But she couldn’t help herself. “You have to let him go.”

“Just ’cause you figured out somebody dropped that light on Bobby Prescott doesn’t mean I want or need any more of your opinions.”

So, she reflected. Dennis Harutyun had given her credit for that deduction, back at the convention center.

“He has to be released.”

A jagged edge in his voice, Madigan said, “So you’re on his side now?”

Dance found she was quite angry. “It’s not a question of sides. It’s a question of proving a case. Edwin may very well’ve killed Bobby. But if he goes to trial and gets off, that’s double jeopardy. He’s gotten away with murder.”

“I answer to Sheriff Gonzalez, not you.”

“Let him go and monitor him. It’s the only way to make a case.”

“And what if he gives the deputy the slip and decides it’s time to kill Kayleigh. Like Rebecca Schaeffer.”

The actress who was murdered in Los Angeles some years ago. Her tragic death at the hands of a stalker had led to California’s enacting the first anti-stalking law in the nation.

“Well, you saw his-what do you call it, kinesics? That’s your expertise, you were pretty quick to tell me. Was he lying when he said he was being set up? You’d trespassed into the observation room by then, hadn’tcha?”

“I couldn’t tell under those circumstances. I didn’t have time.”

“Ah.”

“He’s asked to leave and you haven’t let him. That’s a problem.”

Madigan looked at Edwin in the room. The young man had pulled out a pen and pad of paper and was jotting notes. A lot of them.

Madigan called to Harutyun, “Book him. Cuff him and get him to detention. Breaking and entering at Bobby’s only at this point. I know there’s evidence for that.” He turned to Dance. “Crystal’ll take you to your car and you better go now. You being in here’s trespass and, as you can probably tell, I’m in an arresting mood at the moment.”