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“Rape isn’t fucking. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”

He reared back, face contorting. “You shut up about my mother.”

Got your trigger, she thought. “I don’t have to shut up about anything. See, how it works is I’m in charge here. I’m the boss. I’m the woman who busted your balls and locked you up. You messed up my partner, John, so I’m not going to shut up until you squeal like a pig.”

She slapped her hands on the table, shoved her face into his. “Where are they, John? Where are the rest of the bodies that go with the eyes?”

“Fuck you, whore bitch.”

“Sweet-talking me isn’t going to work.”

“Come on, Dallas.” Feeney patted her shoulder. “Ease back a little. Listen, John, you want to help yourself here. You got trauma, I can see that.”

Eve made a rude noise.

“We saw the shackles, John. We saw how it must’ve been for you when you were a kid. I bet you’ve been through a lot, and maybe you didn’t know what you were doing. Not really. You couldn’t help it. But you need to help yourself now. You need to show us some remorse. You need to tell us where the others are, John. You do that, you volunteer that, and it’s going to make a difference with the PA.”

“She says you’re going to lock me away for killing a bunch of whores. How’s telling you where anything is going to help me?”

“Listen, the police officer’s going to be okay.”

“Her name’s Peabody,” Eve interrupted. “Detective Delia. She got one into you, didn’t she, John. Gave you back some pain.”

She arched her eyebrows when he drew one of his arms toward his chest. “Stings like a bitch, doesn’t it, when the stream hits.”

“Doesn’t bother me.” His gaze tracked to the mirror, and his shoulders relaxed again. “Look at me. I can take anything.”

“Ran, didn’t you? Ran like a rabbit.”

“Shut up, you bitch! I did what I had to do.”

“Let’s calm down.” Feeney gestured down with his hands, keeping the tone and rhythm of good cop in play. “The important thing for you, John, is Detective Peabody’s all right. That counts a lot. Maybe we couldn’t help you out if she’d taken a downturn, but she’s okay. There are things we can do for you, John. You cooperate, you show remorse, you give us the information we need to bring some closure to the families of those other victims, we’re going to put in some good words for you.”

“I did what I had to do. Why do you lock a man up for doing what he has to do?”

Eve pulled a red cord out of her pocket. “Why did you use this?” When he only stared, she wrapped it around her own throat, watched his eyes go glassy. “You like how it looks on me? Want to get your hands on the ends, John, and pull?”

“Should’ve killed you first.”

“Yeah, you got that right.”

His gaze was locked on the cord, and beads of sweat were popping out on his face, on the dome of his head. “Where’s your mother, John?”

“Shut up, I said, about my mother!”

“She liked to do crafts. We got her account from Total Crafts. But you know what, word is nobody’s seen her around in months. Damn near a year now. You kill her first, John? You take some of her ribbon, like all that red ribbon we found in the house, and wrap it around her neck? You rape your own mother, John? Did you rape and strangle your mother, and take her eyes?”

“She was a whore.”

“What did she do to you, John?”

“Deserved what she got.” Breathing shallow, he stared at the mirror again. Nodded slowly. “Deserved it. Every time.”

“What did she do?” There was nothing wrong with his eyes. She could see that, and she’d checked his medicals. And she thought of the bright lights. Sunshades and bright lights. Eyes in jars.

“It’s a little bright in here,” she said conversationally. “Lights, fifty percent.”

“Turn them back up.” The sweat was rolling now. “I’m not talking to you in the dark.”

“You’re not saying anything I want to hear. Lights, thirty percent.”

“Turn them on, turn them on! I don’t like the dark. Don’t leave me in the dark. I didn’t mean to see!”

His tone had gone high. A boy’s voice in panic and plea. It touched something in her, but she tamped it down. “See what? Tell me, John. Tell me, and I’ll