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“No one said you did,” Charlie said. “But you do know them?”
“Yeah, I know them … Knew them.”
“You work at the Elmwood Psychiatric Retreat as a guard,” Valerie said. “I take it you know they were both murdered?”
“I don’t know nothin’,” he said, folding his arms. “I had nothing to do with what happened at Elmwood or anywhere else.”
“We think someone inside the retreat might be responsible,” Charlie said.
Patrick’s face fell.
His eyes went wide.
He had had a moment of realization.
“I wouldn’t do something like that. I had nothing to do with what happened to them.”
“Agatha Mitchell’s grandmother said Agatha didn’t get on with you when she was a patient at Elmwood.” Valerie left this as a statement. She just left it hanging there, letting the silence do the heavy lifting for her.
Patrick’s eyes met hers for a moment, as if he was searching for something. Then he glanced away.
“I didn’t do nothin’ to hurt her.”
“And Gillian Pugh?” Charlie said, leaning forward.
“I barely even knew her.”
“Yet they were murdered,” Valerie said. “And we’ve been informed that you may have hurt Gillian in her room one evening, not long before her death.”
Patrick’s eyes were wide again. He looked like the truth had hit him like a bolt of lightning. He knew he was in jeopardy of being a prime suspect.
“I … I don’t know what to say.”
“What about …” Charlie started.
“Killing them,” Valerie finished. “Is that what you’re trying to tell us?”
Patrick looked around the room wildly. His mouth was open, and he was breathing furiously.
“I didn’t hurt them,” he said.
Valerie thought this statement was strange. It was more the way he said it than anything else. He didn’t hurt them. But he did do something to them. She changed tact.
“I hear you weren’t happy about Agatha Mitchell’s old boyfriend. Was he someone you knew outside of Elmwood?”
“Terry Marshall was a jock from Buford High School,” Patrick said. “He picked on me.”
“Picked on you?” Charlie said, incredulously. “I can’t imagine anyone picking on you, Patrick.”
“You’d be surprised,” he replied. “Being this big, people think you can fight. You can stick up for yerself. It isn’t always like that.”
“Did you ever see Terry Marshall at the facility?” Will now interjected.
“He visited a couple a times, I think. I had to stare at his face and smile, just ‘cause I’m a professional, ya know?”
“How did you feel about Agatha Mitchell?” Will continued. “Did you like her?”
“Eh ... She was just another patient.”