Wednesday afternoon, 1PP.

"Look no further," Deakins smiled as he approached their desks. "Meet Father Bryce. He's been Mr. Hunt's therapist for almost ten years."

A small man smiled briefly and nodded to the detectives.

"I would like to have a word with you regarding your investigation." He fingered a manila folder, and slipped it under his arm as Goren led him to a room.

"Please, have a seat, Father."

Eames shut the door as her partner sat across from Bryce. She sat at the head of the table.

"Robert is a troubled young man." Bryce began. He lay the manila folder flat on the table and folded his hands on top of it. "He has undergone significant stress in his young life, but has made remarkable strides in recovering and becoming a member of society once more."

Eames kept her eyes lowered, focusing on the notepad in front of her. She felt Goren tense at the phrase. She slowly raised her eyes to watch the priest.

"I have come here... against the advice of my colleagues." Bryce cleared his throat. "I have great respect for Robert, but I feel that by putting up a wall, we are hindering your investigation and casting unnecessary suspicion on him. He is not responsible for this heinous crime, Detectives."

"How can you be sure, Father?" Eames squinted at the priest, who scowled at her.

"I have been Robert's psychiatrist since he was fifteen."

"Then you know he has amnesia." Goren made little designs on the table top, looking up shyly at Bryce.

"Pardon?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I mean.. Schitzophrenia. Amnesia is a symptom of it. So is his "absentmindedness." Only he doesn't know."

"Part of him might." Bryce said quietly.

"We need to talk to him." Eames interjected.

"The archdiocese won't allow it."

"Father, a part of him knows what happened to Danielle. I do not believe Robert is responsible any more than you do. Witnessing an event like that would shock anyone.." Goren watched the priest.

Bryce's face tensed as he debated, silently.

"I'll see what I can do, detectives." He nodded.

December 8, 3:07 pm, 1PP interrogation room.

Hunt, his attorney, and Father Bryce are seated around the table, along with Goren and Eames. It's unusually crowded.

"I don't understand why I'm here, detectives," Hunt smiled, his demeanor smug and slightly cocky.

"You were the last person to see Danielle." Goren grinned. "You might have left something out."

"No. I didn't leave anything out." Hunt shook his head, still cocky.

"Are you sure?" Eames leans forward. "What do you remember about that day, Robert?"

"I was supposed to meet up with her, but I didn't. She wouldn't tell me where she wanted to meet, so... I just went home."

"What time did you get home?" Eames took notes on a legal pad.

"Um.. I dunno. Late." He smiled, cocking his head at her.

"How late?" She smiled in return.

"I dunno. Four, I guess. Late."

"That is pretty late. What were you doing all that time?"

Hunt paused, and shifted.

"You don't know. You have 'lost time.' Things happen, time passes, and you don't remember it." Goren tilted his head to catch Hunt's eye.

"How'd you know?"

"What'd Father Bryce tell you you had? Schizophrenia? Anti-social personality disorder? The voices you hear sometimes?"

Hunt was staring wide eyed.

"You aren't schizophrenic, Robert. The voices you hear in your mind are... well, they're parts of yourself. What can you tell us about Danielle?"

Hunt's chin trembled, and his eyes darted from Goren to Bryce. His eyes suddenly went from dark and welled up to sharp and clear.

"Dani was a friend of mine."

"No she wasn't." Goren watched him.

"Yes she was. We were very close." Hunt's words were precise, and clipped.

"Were you intimate?"

"No. We didn't have that sort of relationship."

"What about Father Simon?"

The pupils of his eyes contracted into tiny points. He looked slowly around the table.

"Father Simon is incapable of speaking."

"I don't see why we need to discuss this, Detectives," Hunt's attorney interjected.

"You punished him." Goren said quietly.

"I regret not hurting him more." The voice was low, monotone.

"Why? What did he ever do to you?"

Goren sat forward, jerking back as Hunt slammed the table with his fists and hissed. He leaned so that his face was close to Goren's, staring into his eyes with his own, his pupils eerily tiny. Goren raised a hand to Eames.

"It takes five of us to remember. So that the rest of us can forget." Hunt's voice was a dry whisper. "All they do is remember. All they feel is pain. Father Simon cannot speak. His fingers will not bend to pray. No God will forgive him."

Hunt's attorney had gone pale. Bryce sat, wide eyed.

"What about Danielle? What did she do to you?" Goren glared at Hunt.

"Filthy whore. Filthy fucking whore." His voice rasped.

"You punished her."

"We pulled Simon's teeth, one by one. He screamed, but we tied him down." Hunt squinted at him, speaking with the slightest lisp. His tone had changed from a quiet monotone to a child-like banter. "It was the same thing with Dani, but we pulled her finger nails instead. She had pretty ones. We tried to save her, but she pushed us away. And then she got hurt, and we had to punish her."

"How did she get hurt?" Goren's tone was soft.

"A man did bad things to her. He touched her in bad places. And she cried. We were scared, he tied her up and hurt her."