again.
LYNCH (looking like he’ll resist, then giving in): Okay. When I found out I had an FBI agent in my car—
COLEMAN (interrupting): In your car, not your truck.
LYNCH: That’s right. Like I told you before, I would park my rig off road somewhere and use a rental car to pick up the girls. Then I’d get them into the rig and dump the car. But this one scared me, especially when I found out she was wired.
COLEMAN: How did you find that out?
LYNCH (pause): I don’t remember every line of the conversation. We’re talking seven years ago, you know? (Pause.) Wait, I do remember that bit. As soon as she got in the car I got her mouth taped, her wrists bound, and slashed her ankle. She fought me, but I surprised her. She thought I was a woman, see.
COLEMAN: How did you do that?
LYNCH: I had a wig on and shit. And I raised my voice like this.
COLEMAN: Would you please repeat that?
I stopped the video, made a note: Do a voice comparison to see if it matches the one we have on file from the night Jessica got taken. Something, but still not compelling enough to force Morrison to review the case, let alone make Lynch recant. I started the DVD again.
LYNCH: I found out she wasn’t really listening to anything on her headphones, that it was a wire. I figured she was a plant. So that’s when I came up with the plan to play the CD and leave her wire in the SUV. To stall whoever was tracking her.
COLEMAN: And do you remember the music that was playing on that CD?
LYNCH (rolls his eyes and laughs): Yeah, Kate Smith.
I stopped the video again. I’d forgotten. This was another one of those facts that we never released. So far this video was not swaying me toward the opinion of a false confession. I clicked Go again.
COLEMAN: Why in the world would you want to listen to Kate Smith?
LYNCH (laughs softly): She reminds me of my mother. Anyway, I was lucky, they took a long time to get their act together, or they were too far away, or something.
COLEMAN: I think you must have told me before, but when did you first think of making mummies?
LYNCH (Pause. He stares at her, blinking.): I can’t remember.
COLEMAN: Try. There’s a seven-year gap between Jessica Robertson’s murder and the body we found on your truck.
LYNCH (pause): I went back to the car again and again, and jacked off on the body. I liked that. I found out I liked that just as much as killing. (He stops talking; his thumbs move in circles rapidly over the tops of his thighs.) After a while the body dried out and I started thinking about how cool it would be to have a body with me all the time and not have to go up on the mountain and take the chance of getting caught. I experimented on animals and shit.
COLEMAN: I understand.
LYNCH: Do you, Agent Coleman? (He stares at her with a sad frown, his eyes narrowing, his thumbs moving more rapidly over his thighs.) No, I can see it in your face, Agent Coleman. You think I’m sick.
COLEMAN: Floyd, judging sick isn’t my job.
LYNCH: But I want you to understand. I’m no different from everyone else.
COLEMAN: Why do you need me to understand?
LYNCH: Sex and death together. It’s what everybody likes—like macaroni and cheese.
COLEMAN (pause): Not quite the—
LYNCH (interrupting): I bet you like those vampire shows, dontcha?
COLEMAN (pause): No, I—
This part made me squirm. Coleman seemed uncertain. She was losing control of the interrogation and I felt embarrassed for her.
LYNCH: I seen a movie the other day where there’s these zombie girls who dance naked in a joint and then eat the guys. I bet that movie made a lot of money.
COLEMAN: Floyd, let’s get back on—(His eyes close again and his head tilts back. His breathing is more noticeable, almost audible. He speaks softly, his upper lip pushing out with each word.)
LYNCH: Guys standing in line to get ripped apart … because they want to have sex with dead girls.
COLEMAN: Floyd. Stop.
MAX (moving into camera range, closer to Lynch): Floyd.
COLEMAN: It’s okay, Deputy Coyote. Look at me, Floyd.
LYNCH (eyes still closed but lids fluttering, his voice turns harsh): But you think I’m different. You think I’m a freak. You think this is some kind of a freak show.
COLEMAN: Look at me, Floyd.
LYNCH: No. (Opens his eyes, stares at her with something