Quinn - Iris Johansen [34]
It was a restraint Joe hadn’t expected. “It was still a shock to every one of the parents of those missing children.”
“Give me a break. I’m no angel. But I do have a few scruples.”
“As long as they don’t get in the way of your Pulitzer.”
“You’re laughing, but I meant it. You have to have a goal, and I’m aiming at the big prize.” He sat forward, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “And I’m on my way. How would I know that first story on the hunters would get me an interview with the killer himself? It was fate.”
“No, it was your byline on a story that stroked the monster’s ego,” Joe said dryly.
“Whatever. It happened, and next time he calls, I’ll have a tape recorder and—”
“You think he’ll call you again?”
“Why not? I listened. I figure he wanted an audience, and I gave him what he wanted.” He grimaced. “Though it made me want to puke.”
“But anything for the Pulitzer.”
“Well, I did try to ask him questions, but he ran right over me. But that could be good. I didn’t make him mad, and that could mean he’ll call me again. Lots of reporters have formed relationships, even friendships, with killers.”
“I wouldn’t count on it. He called CNN, too. I don’t think you’re that special to him.”
McVey’s face fell with disappointment. “I can hope. In the meantime, I can milk the story for all it’s worth. Would you like to comment? I don’t have an FBI quote.”
“I’d like a few comments from you.”
“Exchange?”
It would be easier than using force or threats. Joe nodded. “Did he say anything different to you than what he told Ellen Bristol?”
McVey shook his head. “Not from what I can tell from what Slindak told me. He made a big thing about calling himself Zeus. I think he wanted to make sure I had that for the story. Maybe like the Zodiac Killer or something. All the rest of the details were vague except about the murder itself. He was very explicit about that.”
“Would you recognize the voice if you heard it again? Was it distinctive?”
“I’d recognize it. It was deep and smooth.”
“No accents?”
He shook his head. “Hard to tell. Not Southern. Just … American.”
“Well, that helps,” Joe said sarcastically.
“Sorry, I’m no elocution expert. I even tried to concentrate while he was talking because I knew it would be important, but I couldn’t tell anything.” He stopped. “There was one thing. House.”
“What?”
“He mentioned watching the Bristol house. He said the word a couple times. House. Only it didn’t sound quite the same as we say it.”
“What was the difference?”
He shook his head. “It’s hard … It was almost the same.”
“You’re sure he was American?”
He nodded. “Everything was the same except for that one word.”
“What kind of emotion? What was he feeling?”
McVey thought about it. “Excitement. Eagerness. Pride. He was speaking quickly, with energy.”
“Did he mention any other children?”
“No, not specifically.” His eyes suddenly narrowed. “You were with Eve Duncan at the Bristol place. Has she been contacted?”
“No.”
“Pity. She’s interesting. All the other parents are steady, ordinary couples. Boring. A young woman who has an illegitimate child sparks the imagination. Why was she at the Bristols’?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
“I can’t. I tried, but she wasn’t at her house. Did you hide her away?”
“Now why would I do that? Surely you and your colleagues wouldn’t bother a grieving woman. You do have some scruples.”
“I’ll find her,” McVey said softly. “It’s the story of a lifetime, and she’s part of it. I don’t know what chapter she’s in, but I’ll find out.”
“Leave her alone, McVey. You don’t want to deal with me.”
McVey studied him. “No, but I’ll do it. It would be worth it.” He paused and picked up his pencil. “Now, what’s my quote?”
“The FBI is aiding the investigation of the ATLPD and offering the full services of the Bureau. We’re making progress and hope to have a break in the case soon.”
“Got it.” McVey looked up. “Anything else?”
“Yes.” Joe turned and started down the aisle toward the door. “Go screw yourself.”
* * *
“THAT’S ALL?” Eve asked, disappointed.
“It’s