“Anything so far?” I asked.

Barrow shook his head.

“I worked last night as well as today.” Ajax’s tone was serene, his English subtly accented. “I’m quite weary now.”

“That what you used to tell the missus so you could bang that kid?”

No reaction from Ajax.

“Good scam. Claim to be at the hospital, go cruising instead.”

“I’ve told you. It wasn’t like that.”

“Right. The kid was your family’s babysitter. That made it okay.”

“I’m not saying my conduct was appropriate. I’m saying I never sought children out.”

“Easier to hit on the ones who already trusted you.” Slidell’s tone dripped with disgust.

“There were no others.”

“Bullshit.”

“I made a mistake. The circumstances were … unusual.”

“How’s that?”

“The girl in question was mature for her age. Her behavior was provocative.”

I felt my whole body cringe with repugnance.

“You perverted piece of scum.” On-screen.

“Gives scum a bad name.” The detective behind me.

“I served my time,” Ajax said, unruffled. “I underwent therapy.”

“Last I checked, the sex registry ain’t optional for mutants like you.”

“I submitted my name in Oklahoma.”

“This ain’t Oklahoma.”

“My offense was fifteen years ago. I was required to register for ten.”

“You do that back when you landed here?”

Ajax pulled a wry grin. “I am a changed man.”

“A real humanitarian.”

“I cure the sick.”

“Let’s go back over that. You stitched up a sixteen-year-old name of Colleen Donovan. Street kid brought in by the cops. Head wound.”

“I repeat. I treat hundreds of patients each year.”

“How about Shelly Leal. Came in last summer complaining of cramps.”

“Without access to charts, I can’t possibly know.”

“Yeah? Well, we know.” Slidell’s hand came into view. Flipped open the folder and removed a printout.

I looked at Barrow. He shook his head, indicating it was a ruse.

“Perhaps I treated this patient.” Unruffled. “What of it?”

Slidell’s hand took a second paper from the folder and winged it across the table. “That your car?”

Ajax rotated the page and glanced down. “I drive a Hyundai.”

“Check the plate.”

He did. “The vehicle is mine. And legally registered.”

“We got a witness saw you shove Shelly Leal into that car.”

“That person is lying.”

“Some cold-blooded bastard killed both these kids.” In Donovan’s case, another lie.

Behind the lenses, the dark eyes narrowed a hair. “Surely you don’t suspect me.”

“Now, why would we do that?”

“I’ve told you. I never hurt anyone.”

“How’s that babysitter doing these days?”

“I have never shown physical violence toward any human being.”

“Where were you on April 17, 2009?”

Ajax’s chin hiked up, sending a slash of white across each lens, a double reflection of the overhead fixture. The slashes reversed course as his chin leveled. “I must check my agenda.”

“How ’bout November 21, 2014?”

“Should I engage an attorney?”

“Should you?”

Ajax sighed. “If you had proof of my involvement in these homicides, you’d be charging me with a crime. Since you are not, I assume I am free to go.”

“We’re trying to clear you here, Doc.”

The voice surprised me. Beau Tinker was also in the room.

“Your partner’s tone has suggested otherwise all afternoon.”

“Look, you’re a smart man. Given your past, you know we have to check you out. You get that, right? In order to exclude you.”

“You took me away from my work. I’ve answered your questions to the best of my ability.”

“Still, there are gaps.”

“I can provide more precise answers once I have access to charts and personal records.”

“You don’t remember treating Colleen Donovan?”

“No.”

“Or Shelly Leal.”

“No.”

“You recall no contact with either?”

“None. I’ve made that clear.”

“We want to get it straight.”

“I’ve agreed to be recorded.” Ajax looked straight into the camera, obviously familiar with police interview rooms. “You can refer back to your tape.”

A pause.

“You know a kid named Tia Estrada?” Slidell jumped back in.

“No.”

“Avery Koseluk?”

“No.”

“Lizzie Nance.”

Ajax sat silent and unmoving.

“That one ring a bell?”

“No.”

“How about Nellie Gower?”

“I know none of these persons.”

“Ever been to Vermont?”

“I have answered that in the negative.”

“Talk about Anique Pomerleau.”

“Who?”

Slidell lurched forward across the table, close to Ajax’s face. “Cut the crap, you worthless piece of shit.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Looking Slidell straight in the eye.

“Can you think of anyone at Mercy we should question?” Tinker again.

“I promise to give serious thought to that question.”

“Please do.”

“Yeah. Please do.” A chair scraped. The visible parts of Slidell jerked from view. “In the meantime, I need air what ain’t fouled.”

A door opened. Closed. Ajax sat still as a carving on Rushmore, eyes on the corner, where, I assumed, Tinker was standing.

“I have never physically hurt anyone. Not then. Not now.”

“I believe that’s true, Doc.” Tinker, good cop extraordinaire. “Listen. You need a soda?”

The twitch of a lip. A smile? “I will accept nothing to eat or drink.”

“Suit yourself.”

Our little gaggle divided. The detectives turned left, toward the violent crimes division. Barrow and I turned right, toward the conference room. Slidell was already there, standing by the table. His face looked drawn, his eyes puffy and red from lack of sleep.

“You get anything?” Barrow asked.

Slidell shook his head. “The guy’s a fox. Knows how to play his hand.”

“When did you start in on him?”

“Just past one.”

I may have made a sound. Or moved. Slidell’s eyes flicked to me. Before I could say anything, voices sounded in the hall, then Tinker joined us, followed by Salter.

“I wanted to go at him alone.” Directed to me but loud, for Tinker’s benefit. Maybe Salter’s.

“The whole interview, Ajax never changed his story?” Barrow had also missed the start of the show.

“Can’t remember treating Donovan or Leal. Didn’t know they were dead. Had nothing to do with killing ’em.”

“Leal’s been all over the news,” I said. “Ajax doesn’t read papers or watch TV?”

“Claims he’s too busy saving lives.”

“And no one at the hospital once mentioned Leal? Does that sound right?”

“The slimy—”

Salter truncated Slidell’s response. “Just what have you got on this guy?”

“He’s a pedo. And his vehicle and tag square with a witness account from the spot Leal was grabbed.”

“Full match?”

“Two digits.”

“That’s it?”

“Four girls are dead. Maybe six. This creep likes girls.”

“It’s weak.”

“Two of our vics walked through his ER.”

“Did he treat them?”

“We’re getting the records.”

“Anything else?”

“Tell her about the pay phone,” Slidell ordered me.

I did.

“Outside Mercy.”

“Yes.”

Salter nodded, turned back to Slidell. “Any shot at DNA?”

“He’s not falling for it.”

“How do you want to proceed?”

“Let me go back at him.”

“Has he requested a lawyer?”

“Not yet.”

“He’s supposed to register as a sex offender,” Tinker said. “Hasn’t in years, never did in North Carolina.”

“That buys us some leeway.” A few beats, then, “You seriously think Ajax could be our guy?”

“He’s our only real suspect.”

“You getting his history?”

“Every dump he ever took.”

“Okay. Let him cook awhile, then go back in.” Looking from Slidell to Tinker. “If nothing breaks by six, we cut him loose.” Slidell started to protest. “And this goes by the book. I want to see fast footwork, I’ll watch Chinatown.” Pointedly to Slidell. “Ajax asks to lawyer up, we shut it down. Are we straight?”