Page 7 of What’s Left of Us (What Left #3)
“Look,” Sterling says, and I notice he’s staring at McKinney more than he is staring at me.
Can he not look at me anymore after what we shared?
“We are questioning Porscha as well, and we will get a story out of her eventually. It’s going to contradict the statements we previously have from Constantine since it’s clear that she was alive all this time.
Those five bodies we found when he was in prison?
We can’t pin bodily harm on you, Alastair, since they appeared while you were locked up, but did you convince Porscha to pick up the CGS moniker when you no longer could? ”
I narrow my eyes. He’s baiting me, I can feel it.
“There’s eight new bodies,” Jensen agrees, glancing towards his boss. “Eight new ones in six months is a lot of carnage. Five of those you couldn’t physically kill, but what of the other three?”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” I snap, and McKinney groans beside me. I never claimed I would be an easy client to work with.
“Ever?” Sterling asks, raising a brow. “What of the other bodies? You and Porscha had a team effort going on, didn’t you?”
“And you turned into a coward when your girlfriend was the victim,” Jensen agrees, nodding along with Sterling. “Or maybe it was remorse. Did you pick the victim, or was it Porscha? Maybe she ran out of shame.”
“Fear?” Sterling asks, tilting his head. I sneer at him, fighting the urge to blurt something out that will ruin us both. “Did you fear hurting your girlfriend, or being caught?”
“You’ve already answered these questions before, Constantine,” McKinney snaps.
“He’s not going to recant over the old case files.
You want answers for the new ones? My client was busy talking to your agents until he was abducted from prison by a lunatic.
Have you gone over the schematics of the prison?
Have you looked for clues from the tunnels or exit points?
A well-run prison doesn’t have weak points like that. ”
“We’re doing our jobs,” Sterling tells him. “Like you’re doing yours. Even if Constantine did not kill the first five women since the Copycat appeared-”
“Porscha Surwright,” McKinney agrees. “She’s all but admitted to being the new killer.”
Sterling doesn’t acknowledge that as he continues.
“There are still three victims we need to address, and give closure to the families. We want answers to that, and how things were split between the two of you. We’ll see where your stories line up and contradict each other, and that will lead us to the truth. ”
“There’s nothing you can offer us that we won’t discover,” Jensen continues, and Sterling shoots him a look. Jensen seems extra hostile today. “The only person you might help is yourself by striking a deal with the DA.”
“I’ll be speaking to the DA again before the preliminary hearing with our offer,” McKinney agrees. “You won’t be pinning everything on my client for an easy way out.”
I hold up a hand before the three of them continue, because I get the feeling this could go on for a while. It reminds me why I didn’t want to deal with an attorney the first time around. “There is something I could tell you that you may not figure out.”
“Constantine-” McKinney warns.
I wave him off, ignoring the damn ache in my wrists from the cuffs. “No, no. This part can’t incriminate me.”
“You’re sure of that?” Sterling asks, and I glance his way again. His eyes are unreadable once more, and I hate these walls between us. If it were just the two of us, and the legal system wasn’t playing a huge part in my future, I might tell him everything, no strings attached.
Hell, if they gave me another cabin and a weekend with them I’d be willing to spill my guts, figuratively and literally if it came to it.
“If my client gives you something of interest, we’re going to expect something in return for cooperating,” McKinney says, standing as he holds up a hand. “Let me consult with my client for a moment, and we can work out the details.”
Jensen shrugs. “He’s so willing… he could tell us now.”
“That’s why Mr. Constantine hired an attorney,” he agrees. “Information isn’t free, Agent Jensen.”
They exchange a glance before Sterling backs up, grabbing the door. “We’ll wait and see what you have, and we can discuss what that might mean, counsel.”
McKinney nods as they leave, before turning to me. I glare back at him. “I know you folded last time and wrote a very clear, very binding statement about your participation in the murders but we’re going to play it smart this time. What do you plan on telling them?”
I raise a brow as I stare at him. “Well I can’t tell them anything about Porscha’s fucked up head. I don’t even understand it. And I haven't killed anyone since I was abducted from prison.”
“Good,” he says, stroking his jaw. “You’re fighting back this time. Good.”
I don’t bother to respond, because that isn’t the point. “I’m going to tell them about where Porscha kept me. There was a lot of shit there. Maybe they can find something about her.”
McKinney frowns, seeming to think as he glares at the wall.
“We’re not giving up information for free this time, Alastair.
You’re not a kid anymore, and I won’t let them treat you like one.
You will get more time and possibly a harsher sentencing added on if they can pin more on you.
There’s already talk of moving you to another prison. ”
That startles me. As bad as it is, Citrus Grove Penitentiary feels like home. “What?”
“They could move you to Florida State or another maximum security prison further down the coast. Your place at CGP is in jeopardy. Let’s not do anything to stir the pot.”
Swallowing, I let that settle in. I hate prison, but the cell reserved for me at CGP is my home. I don’t want to move somewhere new where I’ll be greeted with the same amount of hate. I take a breath before meeting my attorney's gaze again. “Okay. Tell me what I should do.”
McKinney lays down what he thinks we should and shouldn’t bring up yet, but my mind is wandering.
I’ve heard so many things through the grapevine, whispered and talked about, and my days before I go back behind the prison bars are dwindling down to nothing.
“Hey, McKinney? I’ve heard there’s a book written about me. ”