her ears as it returned to her head.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Zoe leaned on the table, the cool metal taking her weight through her knuckles. She was doing her best to strike some kind of balance between being the right mixture of intimidating—so he would want to talk—and friendly, so that he would want to open up. Somewhat predictably, it didn’t seem to be working at all.
“There are a number of outstanding warrants against your name,” Zoe said, giving Ezra Pitsis a raised eyebrow. “The quicker you talk to us, the better word we are going to put in for you with the judge.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Pitsis sneered. “I’ve seen cop shows. Heard the podcasts about how you people get into people’s heads and make them confess to things they never even did. I’m not saying another word without my lawyer present.”
Zoe stared at him a moment longer, trying to read his body language. It would have been easier if she’d had someone else in there with her, someone who was better at talking to people, but there was no way she could invite Flynn in just then. Not after the stunt he pulled in the alley, looking like he was about to shoot Pitsis right in the head.
She sighed and straightened, feeling one of her vertebrae crack. It had been a long couple of days, following a long couple of months. They weren’t going to get anything out of Pitsis until he was lawyered up, and with the afternoon drawing to a close, there were likely to be complications with that. Lawyers who had left the office and needed to be contacted at home, traffic jams during rush hour, all the rest of it.
And she had done her part. They both had. Enough to get the case wrapped up. All the evidence was there. There was no shame in handing things over to Sheriff Petrovski for now—especially given that Flynn had wanted her to go home a lot earlier than this.
“We will let you know when your lawyer has arrived,” Zoe said, turning and sweeping out of the room. She had nothing against leaving Pitsis to be uncomfortable in the meantime. He could stall for time as much as he liked; it was only him who would have to put up with the stiff metal chair and desk, the bare room, and the lack of food and drink within the close four walls. It would be a nice rehearsal for him, given where he would be going next.
Zoe found Flynn outside, lingering near a video monitor that showed a livestream of the interior of the interrogation room. “He’s not talking?” he asked, looking up as soon as Zoe came over.
She shook her head. “He wants a lawyer. I suppose it should be expected. With the other warrants for vandalism, disturbance of the peace, and theft alone, I would want a lawyer. Let alone for the murder charges.”
Flynn nodded. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, whether he talks now or later. We’ve got him. A jury isn’t going to look at that evidence and let him walk away. And we can get the rest out of him anyway.”
“You can,” Zoe corrected, giving him a half-smile. A mechanical movement of the lips and cheeks which she had attempted to perfect over the years, but which on this occasion—as on many others—was not something she really felt. “I am going home, remember? I will stay at the motel tonight and arrange a flight home tomorrow. We both need some rest.”
“It doesn’t sound like too bad an idea,” Flynn said, reaching for the jacket he had slung over a nearby chair. “I guess Sheriff Petrovski can have him for tonight, once his lawyer comes. Talk to him about the other warrants. Then I’ll pile on him in the morning.”
Pile on him—the imagery was unnecessarily violent. It brought Zoe’s thoughts back to that moment in the alley, when she really thought for a moment that Flynn was going to pull the trigger.
“What happened back there?” she asked. “With the gun?”
Flynn swallowed, holding his coat awkwardly in his hands as he hesitated, refusing for a moment to meet her eyes. Then he clenched his jaw and looked up, nodding. “I… lost control, just for a moment. Let my guard down, I guess. I didn’t expect him to punch me.”
“And after you pulled the gun?” Zoe asked. “It looked like you really were going to shoot him.”
“I was.” Flynn turned, starting a slow step toward the back of