Jeffrey thought of how Lena had used the term victim a few days ago..inscribing targets of sexual predators. She had put a spin on the word, saying it the same way she would say "weak" or "stupid." Jeffrey had not liked that classification from Lena, and he certainly did not like hearing it from Sara. He probably knew Sara better than any other man in her life, and Jeffrey knew that Sara was not a victim of anything but her own (Limning self-judgment. He did not see her as a victim in that context. If anything, he saw her as a survivor. Jeffrey was hurt to his very core that Sara would think so little of him.

Moon interrupted his thoughts, asking, "About ready to start?"

"Yeah," Jeffrey answered, blocking Sara from his mind. No matter what she had said, Wright was still a viable lead to what was going on in Grant County. Jeffrey was already in Atlanta. There was no reason to go back until he had gotten everything he needed from the man. Jeffrey clenched his jaw, forcing himself to concentrate on the task at hand as he stared through the glass.

Moon entered the room loudly, banging the door closed behind her, raking a chair out from the table, the legs screeching against the tiled floor. For all the APD's money and special funding, the city's interview rooms were not nearly as clean as the ones in Grant County. The room Jack Allen Wright sat in was dingy and dirty. The cement walls were unpainted and gray. There was a gloominess to the room that would encourage anyone to confess just to get out of the place. Jeffrey took this all in as he watched Mary Ann Moon work Wright. She was not nearly as good as Lena Adams, but there was no denying Moon had a rapport with the rapist. She talked to him like a big sister.

She asked, "That old redneck didn't fool with you, did he?"

Jeffrey knew she was trying to bridge some trust with Wright, but he did not appreciate the characterization, mostly because he guessed Mary Ann Moon thought it was an accurate one.

"He busted my bracelet," Wright said. "I didn't do that."

"Jack." Moon sighed, sitting across from him at the table. "I know that, okay? We need to find out how that gun got under your mattress. That's a clear violation and you're on your third strike. Right?"

Wright glanced at the mirror, probably knowing full well that Jeffrey was behind it. "I don't know how it got there."

"Guess he put your fingerprints on it, too?" Moon asked, crossing her arms.

Wright seemed to think this over. Jeffrey knew that gun belonged to Wright, but he also knew that there was no way in hell Moon would have been able to run the gun through forensics this quickly and get any kind of ID on the prints.

"I was scared," Wright finally answered. "My neighbors know, all right? They know what I am."

"What are you?"

"They know about my girls."

Moon stood from the chair. She turned her back to Wright, looking out the window. A mesh just like the ones at Wright's house covered the frame. Jeffrey was startled to realize that the man had made his own home resemble a prison.

"Tell me about your girls," Moon said. "I'm talking about Sara."

Jeffrey felt his hands clench at Sara's name.

Wright sat back, licking his lips. "There was a tight pussy." He smirked. "She was good to me."

Moon's voice was bored. She had been doing this long enough not to be shocked. She asked, "She was?"

"She was so sweet."

Moon turned around, leaning her back against the mesh. "You know what's going on where she lives, I take it. You know what's been happening to the girls."

"I only know what I read in the papers," Wright said, offering a shrug. "You ain't gonna send me up on that gun, are you, boss? I had to protect myself. I was scared for my life."

"Let's talk about Grant County," Moon offered. "Then we'll talk about the gun."

Wright picked at his face, gauging her. "You're being straight with me?"

"Of course I am, Jack. When have I not been straight with you?"

Wright seemed to weigh his options. As far as Jeffrey could see, it was a no-brainer: jail or cooperation. Still, he imagined Wright wanted some semblance of control in his life.

"That thing that was done to her car," Wright said.

"What's that?" Moon asked.

"That word on her car," Wright clarified. "I didn't do that."

"You didn't?"

"I told my lawyer, but he said it didn't matter."

"It matters now, Jack," Moon said, just the right amount of insistence in her voice.

"I wouldn't write that on somebody's car."

"Cunt?" she asked. "That's what you called her in the bathroom."

"That was different," he said. "That was the heat of the moment."

Moon did not respond to this. "Who wrote it?"

"That, I don't know," Wright answered. "I was in the hospital all day, working. I didn't know what kind of car she drove. Could've guessed it, though. She had that attitude, you know? Like she was better than everybody else."

"We're not going to get into that, Jack."

"I know," he said, looking down. "I'm sorry."

"Who do you think wrote that on her car?" Moon asked. "Somebody at the hospital?"

"Somebody who knew her, knew what she drove."

"Maybe a doctor?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Maybe."

"You being straight with me?"

He seemed startled by her question. "Hell, yeah, I am."

"So, you think somebody at the hospital might have written that on her car. Why?"

"Maybe she pissed them off?"

"She piss a lot of people off?"

"No." He shook his head vehemently. "Sara was good people. She always talked to everybody." He seemed to not remember his earlier comments about how conceited Sara was. Wright continued, "She always said hey to me in the hall. You know, not like 'How you doing' or anything like that but, Hey, I know you're there.' Most people, they see you but they don't. Know what I mean?"

"Sara's a nice girl," Moon said, keeping him on track. "Who would do that to her car?"

"Maybe somebody was pissed at her about something?"

Jeffrey put his hand to the glass, feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise. Moon picked up on this as well.

She asked, "About what?"

"I don't know," Wright answered. "I'm just saying I never wrote that on her car."

"You're sure about that."

Wright swallowed hard. "You said you'd trade the gun for this, right?"

Moon gave him a nasty look. "Don't question me, Jack. I told you up front that was the deal. What have you got for us?"

Wright glanced toward the mirror. "That's all I have, that I didn't do that to her car."

"Who did, then?"

Wright shrugged. "I told you I don't know."

"You think the same guy who scratched her car is doing this stuff in Grant County?"

He shrugged again. "I'm not a detective. I'm just telling you what I know."

Moon crossed her arms over her chest. "We're gonna keep you in lockup over the weekend. When we talk on Monday, you see if you've got an idea who this person might be."

Tears came to Wright's eyes. "I'm telling you the truth."

"We'll see if it's the same truth on Monday morning."

"Don't send me back in there, please."

"It's just holding, Jack," Moon offered. "I'll make sure you get your own cell."

"Just let me go home."

"I don't think so," Moon countered. "We'll let you stew for a day. Give you some time to get your priorities straight."

"They are straight. I promise."

Moon did not wait for more. She left Wright in the room, his head in his hands, crying.