Page 48 of All He Takes
"A jury is allowed to make mistakes," Harold said smoothly. "I guess that girl was upset about the boys. It happens. I don't blame her for lashing out."
"But even so," Ken said. "You didn't stop it. You walked away from a rape, and then you let your friends get away with it. You're one hell of a good guy, aren't you?"
Harold's face was stone. "I have made mistakes, Agent. I won't deny that. I was young and foolish, and I made mistakes. But I can tell you, I've grown up since then. I've changed. I'm a different person now."
"You're right," Nicky said. "You are a different person. You're not a nice guy. You're a predator, Harold. You prey on innocent women, and you kill them. You took those women and you photographed them and left the pictures in antique stores you frequent."
"I don't understand why you're looking for me," Harold said. "It's definitely not me in those photos."
"You're on the shortlist of suspects," Ken said. "We have your car; we have your name. We have good reason to think you're our guy."
"I understand." Harold nodded. "But naturally, I did not kill anyone. You're going to want proof that I am who I say I am. You want to talk to my wife and my family. You'll want to know where I was when this happened."
"We want to know where you were tonight, Harold," Nicky said.
Once more, Harold's eyes flashed. Something--almost like fear--flickered across his face.
Got him.
"Margaret said you went out tonight with your friends," Nicky said. "But we called them, and they haven't been out with you in months. So where have you been going while your wife is at work, Harold?"
Harold's eyes darted from side to side. For a moment, Nicky thought he might be about to bolt, but then he seemed to steady himself. "I go out alone. I told Margaret I was going with friends because it was easier to explain. I go to a bar called The Rusty Anchor."
"What do you do when you get there?" Nicky asked, even though she wasn't buying this at all.
"I sit, I talk to the owner," Harold said.
"You go specifically to this bar to talk to the owner?"
"Yeah," Harold said. "His name is Robert. I like talking to him."
"You go to a bar to talk to the owner," Ken said. "And you don't drink anything."
Harold's expression didn't change. "I don't drink. Not anymore. I used to, but I stopped about a year ago. I don't want to put poison in my body."
"You go out for drinks, and you don't drink," Ken said. "Then what do you do?"
"I leave," Harold said. "I come home."
"You just come home," Nicky said. "No hanging out, no talking to anyone. You come home, alone."
Harold nodded. "That's right."
"You know we can find this Robert, and he can tell us the truth," Nicky said.
"If he's even real," Ken added on.
Still, Harold's eyes were darting around. "I... well..."
"Where were you really going, Harold?" Nicky asked, leaning forward.
This was the part where he could come clean about it all. The murders. The photographs. He was backed into a corner...
But what Harold did next made Nicky's head spin. His character completely shifted. He dug his hands into his hair and pulled. "No... no..."
"Harold," Nicky said, wondering if he was about to snap. They didn't cuff him, as he didn't present any danger--but Nicky was wondering if that was now a mistake.
"No, they can't find out," Harold said.
