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What the hell had he gotten himself into this time? Major restrained himself from pacing the cell—his cellmate had already threatened to beat him up for being annoying, and for the sake of his cellmate's brains, Major didn't want to push it. But he felt excess energy building up inside of him, entirely separate from the hunger that was gnawing at him, making it increasingly hard to think.

The question burning in his mind was how much they knew. Well, that, and was this about the Chaos killings, or was it Clive and his FBI partner's continuing obsession with the Meat Cute massacre? Then again, it was entirely possible it was both. Had Blaine rolled over on him? Of course not. Blaine didn't remember him, or their deal, or anything about his own business. If it wasn't such a well-deserved punishment for the smarmy bastard, Major would have felt sorry for him.

How long were they going to keep him in here? It had already been overnight, with no sign of questioning. It was entirely possible Ravi and Liv didn't even know he'd been arrested. It was even more possible that they'd searched his house and Ravi was in trouble, and that Liv wasn't speaking to him. The not-knowing was driving him crazy. The hunger was driving him crazy. His cellmate's snoring was driving him crazy. If he didn't go out of here soon, he'd be a mindless … zombie. God, he really did need to get out of here before he lost control entirely and chowed down on his cellmate's juicy pink brains.

"You want to shut the fuck up?" demanded his cellmate.

Major hadn't been aware he was making any noise. "Sorry."

"Better be." The snoring resumed.

Biting his lip, Major tried to sleep, but when it came it was fitful and filled with terrible dreams.

At last, a cop came to the cell. "Major Lilywhite?" He made the name sound completely ridiculous, and Major was in no condition to offer any of his patented snappy retorts.

"Yeah."

"They want you in interrogation."

He went with the cop, his hands cuffed in front of him, and was shoved roughly in the door of an interrogation room and into a seat, chaining his handcuffs to a bolt in the table. Major sat and stared at his haggard and hungry self in the mirror and did some more waiting. He tried not to give them the satisfaction of fidgeting, but it was difficult to do.

At last Clive came in with the FBI agent. "Major."

Major nodded, not sure if it was appropriate to call the detective who was about to question you for murder by his first name.

"You know why you're here?" Bozzio asked him.

"Why don't you tell me?"

"You're mouthy for a serial killer."

"Serial killer?" He managed to put just the right amount of outrage into the question.

"Yeah, the Chaos Killer? I know you've heard of him. Because you are him."

"That's ridiculous."

"Really." Bozzio put a bunch of files down in front of him. Major recognized the Max Rager list. So they'd been to his house, they'd found the combination of his safe. They undoubtedly had the body bags and the trank gun. Well, he had expected that, hadn't he?

"Am I supposed to know what all this is?"

"It's yours, so … yeah." Clive looked down at Major, shaking his head. "All you have to do is tell us why, Major."

Major looked at them both and kept his mouth shut.

"Fine. We'll do this the hard way. The bodies," Bozzio said. "Where are they?"

Major looked down at the table covered in incriminating evidence and said nothing.

"Brooding expressions don't show up on tape," Clive snapped. "Use your words."

"You think I killed these people." Major looked up at them, hoping he looked properly aggrieved. "Why would I? You think I'm some sort of kill-the-rich nutjob?"

Bozzio clearly hadn't ruled that idea out. "I don't know. Are ya?"

"No. So you've got no bodies and no motive."

"So, what motive would you have for taking out that guy?" Bozzio put a file in front of him with the smiling picture of a police officer facing up. "For instance."

Major remembered the guy—he'd been Blaine's first pick off the list. Otherwise, he had no idea who he was. He shook his head.

"So it's just a coincidence that Liv Moore's boyfriend's one of the victims. Police Officer Drake Holloway."

This was Liv's boyfriend? The guy who had been in her room that night? The Chaos Killer had kidnapped Liv's boyfriend? Damn it. Major tried to keep his face still, but he had to think his surprise showed.

"Remember what I said about brooding expressions, vis a vis the tape?" Clive asked.

"I didn't know, uh …" Major glanced up at Clive, who didn't believe him. "This must be hard for Liv."

"That you murdered her boyfriend? Probably."

Major cleared his throat. "I told you, I—I—"

The door opened, and a man in a suit came in. He pointed at Major. "You, shut your mouth." He pointed at the detectives. "You, shut your mouths." He aimed his thumb at the door behind him. "Leave me with my client."

To Major's relief, they did as they were asked. Bozzio leaned over the table, saying, "Think about what we discussed, Mr. Lilywhite," but she gathered up her evidence and left, as the lawyer exclaimed, "Don't think about it! Exit quietly, please."

When the door closed behind the detectives, the lawyer started pulling files out of his briefcase.

"Okay, wait, uh …" Major hoped Liv and Ravi weren't paying for this guy. Did they have that kind of money?

"Our mutual friend Vaughn du Clark has an interest in your case."

Well, that made sense. So did the wait in his cell, cooling his heels and experiencing the terror felt by those who crossed Max Rager.

"Brant Stone," the lawyer continued. "You can call me Mr. Stone or Washington State Defense Lawyer of the Year Brant Stone, or don't call me anything at all, since it'll mostly be me talking. This case is Oscar the Grouch's dream house. It's a pile of garbage, okay? Serial murder case with no bodies? Ha! So best case scenario I call my good friend Federal Judge Danny Hirschfield. Hirschy bar, he throws this case into the Puget Sound."

"Worst case?"

Stone looked directly at him for the first time. "Depends." He moved his eyes back and forth as if looking for eavesdroppers and whispered, "Did you do it?"

Taken aback, Major wondered exactly how much Vaughn du Clark had told this guy.

Then Stone shook his head. "Nah, I'm kidding. Ah, worst case, you go to trial, you walk, 'cause there's no bodies. Either way you walk. So. Sit tight, relax, and most importantly, shut your mouth."

Major obediently did so. He was led back to the lockup and booked, and transported to the county jail, where he sat and wondered exactly how long this would take, and how long he had before he became a raving lunatic who attacked the first passing guard for their brains.