Page 14 of Just Right

Connor's resigned expression told Cami that this was all too normal in what she guessed was never a typical day's work.

"You can't hide in the middle of a public pool," he said. "You need to give us answers."

"I'm not prepared to answer any questions," Nick repeated. "I'm not willing to speak to you."

Connor shook his head. "That's not how this works," he said. “This is a murder investigation. If you refuse to cooperate, you'll be committing offenses already."

"I'm not hiding anything," Nick said, now sounding scared, taking another step back.

"Maybe you don't want to answer the questions," Connor said. "Maybe you think you can avoid the questions. But you are obviously worried about the questioning. That's clear to us. So now, we have even more reason to need answers."

"I'm not coming out," he said.

Cami stared at him, wondering exactly what the FBI protocol was in this situation. They weren't going to walk away. That was clear in every determined line of Connor's face. But at the same time, their suspect was refusing to talk.

"Every day on the job, you see something that further reinforces your opinion of the general public's capability for idiocy," Connor muttered.

Then, to Cami's surprise and amusement, Connor stripped off his jacket and removed his belt with the gun on it. He took his boots off and unclipped the handcuffs off his gun belt.

"Don't touch the gun, or let anyone touch it, until I'm out of here," he said, handing Cami the belt.

Then, with a resigned sigh, Connor strode to the water's edge, grasping his handcuffs.

He took a deep breath and then, with more athleticism than Cami had expected, he dove in. With a mighty splash, Connor cut the water's surface, swimming determinedly in Nick's direction.

With a startled cry, Nick began half swimming, half wading away. But Connor was gaining, doing a messy but speedy crawl stroke.

Cami ran around the edge of the pool in the direction Nick was heading, intending to cut him off if it was needed. But it wasn't needed. Connor grasped Nick's arm and then, as Nick began chopping and kicking out at him, a splashy fight ensued.

"You're not getting away, and we're not spending any more time in this damned swimming pool," Connor threatened through gritted teeth. If he hadn't already been thoroughly wet from the dive, he would have been by the time he'd finished wrestling with the struggling suspect. Nick was writhing and twisting, trying his damnedest to get away, but Cami saw with a skip of her heart that one of the handcuffs was already in place. Nick was captured, and now, Connor was dragging him the rest of the way to the side.

"You can't do this! You're infringing my rights."

"Have you heard of failure to obey? It's an offense."

"I've—Ow!" Nick protested, with a cry, as Connor dragged him up the pool's steps.

Connor's face was set. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he said. "But we are leaving this pool. I'm not questioning you waist-deep in water."

Cami was waiting, setting the gun belt down carefully out of reach before rushing forward to grasp one of Nick's cool, dripping arms. Nick was gasping for breath, and his eyes were wide with shock, but Cami and Connor's combined efforts had him onto the pavement before he had time to realize what was happening.

Connor got the other cuff behind him and clamped it shut. Then he pushed Nick's shoulders down until he reluctantly folded into a sitting position on the pavement by the side of the pool.

"There have been two murders in the past two days. You connected with both the victims on social media, and you arrived at the aquarium, where one victim was subsequently killed, soon after meeting with her. So now, I have questions. And it's time for answers," Connor threatened, in tones that told Cami no further resistance would be allowed.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The stars were sending him along the right route at last. The lost man felt sure of it. This was the direction he needed. The path he should follow. He saw where she was going, this woman who he thought was his mother. And now, all he needed to do was to arrive.

"It's all going to work out," he whispered as he walked away from the planetarium, following the destination he knew was mapped out for him. This was what he needed. At last, it was all going to be okay.

"Things are working out for you?" a man asked as he headed to his car, walking fast and purposefully.

The lost man barely glanced at him. This man meant nothing in his life; he was a nobody. He had dark hair. He was in his forties. He noticed these facts almost in passing.

"Yes," he said. "Things are working out."

"I'm glad," the man said, and the lost man realized that he was speaking to him. He looked up and saw that the man, a stranger, had stopped walking. He was watching him and smiling.

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