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Dale started muttering, “That’s ridiculous.”

“The state of Georgia is about to hit you like a Mack Truck. You don’t know it yet, but you are gonna be laid out flat to the ground.

They’ve got some of the most brutal penalties for possession of child pornography in the country.

Each download is considered an offense. Each download. You following me?”

Dale didn’t respond, but he was suddenly paying close attention.

“We’re talking felonies, not misdemeanors.

We’re talking fines up to 100,000 dollars each .

Sentencing guidelines of five to twenty years each .

” Lionel had yo-yo’d into Dale’s personal space again.

“I know you’re not a math teacher, so let me scratch out the numbers for you.

Let’s say you get the minimum, right? That’s not what you’re gonna get, but let’s cut you a break.

Five years times 968 pornographic images of girls from the ages of nine to eleven equals your ass is gonna die in prison . ”

Emmy saw Dale’s tongue dart out under his mustache as he licked his lips. The information had clearly hit him hard, but his cool demeanor would not break.

Again, Dale insisted, “I’m not going to prison.”

“You keep holding onto that. But from where I’m sitting, the only question is, which prison are you gonna die in, and how long is it gonna take?”

“That’s two questions.”

“Let me answer both of them for you,” Lionel offered.

“It’s either gonna be Dooly State Prison, where they house all the other pedophiles, or it’s gonna be the Georgia Diagnostic and Classification State Prison, where you’ll spend about fifteen years in isolation inside a cell before they walk you down the corridor, strap you to a gurney, stick a needle in your arm, and kill you. ”

Dale’s lips parted. His sharp breath whistled through the speaker.

“Look around this shitty little room, man. This is the Taj Mahal compared to what your cell is gonna be like. You can stretch out your arms and touch the walls on either side.”

Dale couldn’t stop himself from looking around the room.

Lionel said, “We know Cheyenne’s already dead.”

Dale bit his bottom lip to keep his mouth closed.

Lionel asked, “Is Madison dead, too?”

Emmy heard another whistle of a sharp breath. Dale cleared his throat. He stared at the wall across from his chair. His expression was blank, but Emmy saw a thick bead of sweat roll down from his sideburn.

He said, “This is all a mistake.”

“Do you know how many dudes are in prison because they made a mistake?”

“I didn’t say I made a mistake. I said you made a mistake.

” Dale took a moment to calm himself by finishing off the water.

The plastic cup made a popping sound when he returned it to the table.

“Why would I need two laptops? My MacBook Pro is the far superior machine. As I’ve stated repeatedly, I haven’t laid eyes on the old one in months. ”

Emmy felt all the air leave her body. He’d used silence to think of another excuse.

“Okay,” Lionel said, rolling with it. “How did you know the laptop was hidden behind the filing cabinet?”

“Everyone knew it was back there. It wasn’t hidden. It was stored there.”

“Stored by who?”

“ By whom , and I wouldn’t know.”

“How long has it been there?”

“No idea.”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Lionel said.

“What you’re telling me happened is: Cheyenne Baker and Madison Dalrymple are kidnapped, and by some weird coincidence, you show up at the school bright and early the very next morning to get a laptop you haven’t laid eyes on in over a year, or a year exactly, or in months, or you don’t know how long, but you know it’s stored between a filing cabinet and a wall, that somehow everybody has seen but nobody else has ever touched, because you wanted to copy some sheet music, but unbeknownst to you, the only file you copied onto the thumb drive you brought from home is the only file on the laptop that has nearly 1,000 photos of child pornography. ”

Dale licked his lips again. He knew it sounded preposterous. “Yes.”

“Esther was at her sister’s house up in Carrolton to watch the fireworks with her kids. Said she talked to you on the phone, but didn’t see you in person. Neighbors were all at the firework shows. Nobody saw you. You don’t have an alibi.”

“I was at home.”

“Your neighbor says you were in your driveway this morning washing and vacuuming out your car. Do you usually wash and vacuum your car at five thirty in the morning?”

“Is it not summer in Atlanta, too?” Dale’s smugness had returned. “You do things in the morning because it’s too hot later in the day.”

“That makes sense,” Lionel agreed. “But what gets me is, I’ve never heard of a man using bleach to clean out his car. Leastwise, not an innocent man.”

Dale’s gaze returned to the blank wall in front of him.

“On those forensic shows, they always tell you bleach can destroy blood evidence and DNA. Tricks all the tests we have, right?” Lionel paused, but there was no response.

“The thing is, it’s the fact of you cleaning the car with bleach that’s the red flag.

Tells me that you were worried we’d find DNA and fingerprints and trace evidence from Cheyenne and Madison. ”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” Dale countered. “I drive kids home from practice all the time. I always get permission from the parents first. You can ask Hannah and Ruth.”

“We did,” Lionel said. “You drove Cheyenne home a lot. Verona’s a twenty-minute drive in the opposite direction from your house.”

Dale said nothing.

“Tell me about the Glock 20 that’s registered in your name.” Lionel waited, but Dale didn’t respond. “We didn’t find it in your house or your car. Where is it?”

Dale’s head tilted down. He stared at the empty cup on the table.

“This isn’t looking good for you, man.” Lionel paused a moment. “You’re not stupid. You know how bad this looks.”

Emmy watched Lionel lean in again. She hadn’t noticed before, but Dale’s posture had changed dramatically over the last few minutes. He was no longer sitting ramrod straight. He’d slouched into the chair. His shoulders had rolled inward. He was shutting down.

According to the textbooks, this was the most dangerous time during an interview. There were only three things that could happen now: he would confess, he would ask for a lawyer, or he would go completely numb.

Dale whispered, “It wasn’t me.”

“Okay, buddy, I hear ya. But let me sum up where we’re at,” Lionel said.

“Two kidnapped girls. You know them both. Blood at the scene indicates a gunshot wound. Your Glock is missing. You scrubbed down your car with bleach. You don’t have an alibi for last night.

You were caught downloading child porn from your laptop this morning. ”

Dale shook his head, muttering, “It’s not my laptop.”

Lionel asked, “Did you know computers keep a record every time a user logs in?”

Dale’s head popped up. He obviously had no idea. He sat up straighter in the chair, tried to get his confidence back. “Passwords can be stolen.”

“The last time your laptop was accessed was on May twelfth of this year. The contents of the Sacred Concertos folder were viewed for twenty-one minutes during your lunch hour.”

“Everyone has lunch at—”

“No, listen.” Lionel held up a finger to stop him.

“We’ve got the CCTV camera showing you going into the auditorium three minutes before the log-in and leaving four minutes after the log-out.

You were in there for twenty-eight minutes.

Then on May twenty-fourth, same pattern.

You go into the auditorium at lunch, log in for twenty-four minutes, log out, then the camera catches you leaving the auditorium. ”

Emmy held her breath, leaning forward in her chair, silently begging Dale to finally crack.

“The—” Dale cleared his throat. “The hallway camera is broken.”

“That was true until recently,” Lionel said. “But the camera behind the ticket counter in the lobby has always worked fine.”

Emmy watched the color drain from Dale’s face. He gripped his hands together in his lap. The arrogance had finally melted from his features. He looked scared.

She mumbled, “Finally.”

“Dale,” Lionel said, “we’re going to keep looking at that CCTV and we’re going to match it to the log-ins and that’s how we’re going to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that you accessed your school laptop during school hours to masturbate to child pornography.”

Dale started to shake his head. “No.”

“Let me tell you what I think really happened this morning,” Lionel said. “You were bleaching down your car, thinking through all the weak points that could trace the girls back to you, and you panicked about the laptop.”

“No,” Dale insisted.

“You knew the town was crawling with cops. You knew it was only a matter of time before they talked to the girls’ teachers. You were scared one of them might find the laptop, or that somebody from the school would remember seeing it shoved behind the filing cabinet.”

“Not mine.”

“You knew the serial number would be traced back to you. You knew if anybody saw the files on that laptop, you would be connected to the kidnapping, because what are the odds that a pedophile who jerks off to pictures of exploited and vulnerable children isn’t the same raping murderer who abducted two little girls he’s known for two years? ”

“They’re not little girls. They’re practically adult women.”

“You telling me you like them younger?”

“I’m telling you that you’re wrong.” Dale’s tone had changed. He was angry. “If your insane theory is true—and it’s not, by the way—why wouldn’t I just take the laptop and destroy it?”