“Do we have a problem, Gyth?” McNeal asked.
“No, not yet.” A muscle flexed along his jaw. “But if that bastard tries to touch her again, you might have a dead man on your hands.”
“Bryan Trace…” Brooks drawled out his name and flashed a friendly smile. “Did the doctor get you all patched up?”
The boy nodded jerkily.
His lawyer leaned forward, cast a menacing glance toward Colin. “We will be filing assault charges.”
“Umm, you try doing that.” Colin didn’t seem particularly concerned as he reached for a stack of photos. “I’ve got a station full of officers who saw the guy attack Dr. Drake. I was doing my job and subduing him.”
“Your ‘subduing’ technique broke his nose and bruised his ribs.”
“Umm.” Again, little concern. Colin stared down at the photos. “He was out of control. I did what I had to do.”
Yes, and Emily knew he’d do it again, in a heartbeat. Her hands curled in front of her as she stared through the two-way mirror.
“But if you wanna try to press charges…” He shrugged. “It’ll be your wasted hours.”
Emily looked back at McNeal. “Could the assault charges stick?”
“Nah. Too many cops for witnesses.”
Brooks straddled the chair closest to the boy. “Bryan, I need to ask you a few questions.” Light, easy tone.
“O-okay.”
“Were you acquainted with a Preston Myers?”
Bryan flinched.
“Umm, Bryan, did you hear my question?”
The boy stared down at his cuffed hands. “Didn’t know him.”
“But you’d been to his house before, right, Bryan?” Colin asked, his voice snapping like a whip. “The neighbors saw you, said that you’d been hanging around, hiding in bushes like some kind of Peeping Tom.”
Another flinch.
Emily knew Colin was making up the story about the neighbors’ testimony, but judging by Bryan’s response, he was definitely on the right track.
“My client doesn’t have to—”
Bryan lifted his head. His cheeks were flushed. A wide, white bandage covered his nose. “I was there.”
“Why?” Brooks asked softly.
“He was a demon. I watch the demons, make sure they don’t hurt anyone.”
“Ah…my client is obviously suffering from delusions. His mental capacity isn’t strong enough for these questions—”
“Shut up!” Bryan screamed, lunging to his feet. “I’m not crazy! I’m not crazy!”
Colin locked one hand on his shoulder, shoved him back down.
James pulled his chair back a few feet. “Uh, I think we should stop—”
“Shut the f**k up! You don’t know what’s going on here. It’s a war, man. A war.” Bryan curled his lip at the attorney, spat, “I don’t need you. I’ll say what I want. These guys can’t do anything to me. I’m a Hunter.” He jerked his thumb toward his chest.
“I’m the law. ”
McNeal stepped beside her, whistling softly. “The kid really was stalking Myers.”
And Gillian Nemont. And her.
“I take it you’re waiving your right to your attorney’s advice?” Brooks murmured, glancing down at his nails.
“Hell, yes!” Bryan suddenly seemed energized, eyes glowing, head tilted proudly, body humming with excitement. “I don’t need a dumb suit trying to tell me what to say.”
“Your funeral, kid,” James murmured, and sat back.
“So…” Colin tapped the photos against the tabletop. “You admit to stalking Preston Myers.”
“I was demon hunting. ”
“And were you also hunting Gillian Nemont?”
Bryan smiled. “Saw what I did to her place, didn’t you?”
I’ll take that as a yes, Emily thought.
“And Dr. Drake? You been hunting her too?” Colin’s voice was razor sharp.
Bryan just smirked. “Almost caught her.”
Colin’s left hand balled into a fist. “Did you now?”
“Bitch got away from me.” His lips thinned. “Kicked me in the balls. Fought like a hellcat.” He laughed then, a high-pitched, almost girlish sound. “Course that’s what she is, right?”
“Umm…” Colin glanced down at the photos. His jaw was clenched tight. “And Darla Mitchell? Were you hunting her?”
“The bitch thought she could go on TV, could hide what she was and laugh at us stupid humans.” He shook his head. “But I knew what she was. I knew! ”
“So you admit to hunting her.” Colin slid a photograph across the table. “Did you kill her too?”
Bryan stared down at the photo. The color drained from his face. “What the f**k! ”
“Look at it,” Colin snarled. “You see the blood? You see her face? Her throat was ripped out, clawed out—and she died in a pool of her own blood.”
Bryan’s eyes had doubled in size. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he stared at the photo.
“He had no idea what the body looked like,” Emily whispered. Because he hadn’t been there for the kill.
“She wasn’t a demon,” Brooks told him, tapping his fingers against the photo. “She was human, just like you and me. And she screamed and she bled, and she died.”
The boy was shaking his head. “No, no, I didn’t do that! I didn’t—”
“But you were hunting her, right?” Colin pushed. “Just like you were hunting Preston.” He pushed another photo in front of Bryan.
The boy gagged.
“You were hunting them, planning to kill them—”
Bryan shoved the pictures away. “I-I wasn’t—I was just w-watching them—”
“Stalking them,” Brooks corrected, the warmth gone from his voice. “You were stalking the victims because you thought they were demons and you wanted to kill them.”
“No! No!” Bryan’s head shook frantically. “I-I was just—just supposed to watch!”
Supposed to watch. Emily’s breath caught. This was it.
“Supposed to, huh?” Brooks leaned back in his chair. “And just who told you that you were supposed to watch them?”
Horror filled the kid’s face. His lips clamped together.
Don’t stop now. Emily touched the cold mirror pane.