There was just something off about all of it. Why so many confessions? Was someone trying to muddy the waters? And even though Wynn had the right build, she couldn’t help but doubt his claims. Especially when taking the ID bracelet into account.
Sun had always had a sixth sense about people, and Wynn just didn’t fit. Putting him at the scene that night, fighting Brick, giving her water, taking her to the hospital. Not that Wynn wouldn’t have done all of that. After meeting him, she had little doubt there was a part of him that was noble. She just didn’t think he did do it. Envisioning him at the scene was like trying to force a square peg into a round hole. It didn’t fit without some pretty serious manipulation.
Just when she’d dismissed his claims completely, he added, “Unless you mean the water I poured down your throat.”
Her lungs stopped working.
“You remember that? Right before you threw up all over me? And my truck, I might add.” He eased forward, and whispered, “Ingrate.”
Her world spun. Nobody could know that except the person who took her to the hospital. No one possibly could. She’d only started getting flashes of that night in the last few months and she hadn’t told a soul about the pickup or the water or the vomit. Mostly because she didn’t know if it was real or simply a product of her drug-induced imagination.
Unable to sit any longer, she stood and walked to the postage-stamp window Quincy was dogging her through. He was mad. She needed to see his face regardless. He stood on the other side of the door like an anchor. Always there for her.
She turned back to Wynn. “Why are you doing this? Baring your soul. Why now?”
“I have conditions.”
Ah. And so it begins. “You mean demands.”
He lifted a shoulder. “If you want a signed confession, I have three.”
“And you think you have enough to bargain with?”
“What? I still haven’t convinced you?” he asked, seemingly surprised.
She shrugged. “You don’t fit.”
He tilted his head in a shruglike gesture. “I usually don’t.”
“Again, why now? Why not ten years ago?”
“You weren’t the sheriff ten years ago.”
“Why not four months ago, then? When I was first elected.”
“I only recently heard you found his body.”
“Your own brother’s remains were found on a mountain four months ago and no one told you?”
He spread his hands as far as the cuffs would allow. “I’m all but forgotten.”
“If your blood is really on Brick’s clothes, I won’t need your confession.”
“Ah, but there’s so much more, apple blossom.” He swiveled around in the chair to face her more fully. “A lot you don’t remember about the time leading up to the abduction. About the days you spent in that shed. About that night. You’re right about one thing. Kubrick didn’t do it alone.”
She felt her eyes round and cursed inwardly. If she were interviewing a suspect, she would never give away the game so easily. She would never reveal her thoughts. Show emotion. Give him the upper hand. With this case—her case—she seemed incapable of doing anything but.
“I’ll tell you everything,” he said, very aware of the fact that he was winning.
“Then you lied.”
“I lie all the time. Can you be more specific?”
“If you know everything, you and Kubrick were definitely in it together.”
“Not hardly. The man liked to brag. As did his partner in crime.”
“Whose name is … ?”
“Nah-ah, apple blossom. When my … demands are met, we can talk.”
“I’m the sheriff of a small county in New Mexico. I have exactly zero pull here, but feel free to demand away.”
“Don’t worry. They’re simple.”
“Sure. What is it exactly you think I can do for you?”
“I’m in here for the rest of my life, apple. I don’t have a whole lot to look forward to, and I want to be closer to my family so they can come visit me more than once a decade. I want to be transferred to Santa Fe.”
The look of astonishment she planted on him said everything he needed to know about her ability to pull that off.
“It’s called a transport order.”
“I know what it’s called. But getting a prisoner transferred across state lines is kind of a big deal. I just don’t think it can happen.”
“Why not? I have vital information about an ongoing murder investigation and am willing to testify to certain … atrocities that were committed in said case. I can even lead the authorities to the weapon I used to defend myself, which will have my fingerprints on it.”
“You have the knife?” she asked in surprise.
“I know where it is. In return, I’m transferred to the state where the case occurred and will be available to testify once I name my brother’s accomplice. Et cetera, et cetera. It can be done.”
“You came prepared,” she said, walking back to the table.
“Always.”
She sat across from him again. “And two?”
“I want you to look into my case.”
“Oh, right. I forgot, you’re innocent.”
“Hell, no,” he said with a snort. “There’s not a single innocent person in this place. But I am innocent of the crime they put me in here for, and I’ve heard you are just savvy enough to figure that out and prove it for me.”
Wow, was he ever wrong about a person. Then again, she’d been wrong about him. “Who do I have to thank for spreading false rumors about me?”
He relaxed against the chair, the metal cuffs jingling with each movement, and refused to answer once again. After giving her enough time to form her own flawed opinions, he said, “My lawyer is sending over the case files. Everything we have.”
“Wonderful. Is there a magic wand in there, too? I’m going to need one.”
He laughed softly. “I think that’s in my other case file.”
“Of course it is. And three?”
He waited a beat. Studied her. Sized her up just long enough to make a layer of sweat appear on her palms. She suddenly desperately wanted him to be telling the truth. His claims would exonerate Levi.
After another moment, he straightened in the chair, and said, “I wanna see the girl.”
Disturbing. “Look, I know it’s been a while for you—”
“Not as long as you might think.”
Okay. She didn’t need to know that. “—but smuggling women into prison is not one of my talents. And, believe me, I have many.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The more they spoke, the more she wondered who was out there talking her up to a convicted murderer. Because she wanted a word. “What girl?”
“Your girl.”
Sun stopped tapping the pen on the pad and tilted her head. “I’m sorry?”
“When I get back to New Mexico, I want you to bring your daughter to see me.”
Emotions Sun didn’t know she possessed rushed through her like a lightning strike. Sharp and hot and desperate, they blinded her for a few seconds. Why would a convicted killer want to see her daughter? How did he even know she had a daughter? Levi could’ve told him if they were still in contact, but why would he? Why would the conversation turn toward her?