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Trying to pass the time in the county jail was an exercise in frustration. Major couldn't concentrate on thinking about how to get out of this situation because he was so frantic with worry and hunger; he couldn't exercise because he was afraid to tire his body out and increase the hunger past what he could control; and he couldn't even begin to try to sleep. Holding himself still was nearly impossible.
It was a huge relief when the guards came to tell him he had a visitor, and an even bigger relief when he saw the visitor was Liv. Just the sight of her face made everything feel better.
They both took the phones down, and Major couldn't help but smile at her. "It's good to see you. It—It's great to see you. I … I thought you might not—"
There was no answering smile on Liv's face. Her eyes were wide and intense in her pale face as she interrupted him. "Drake Holloway was my boyfriend."
"I'm …" What could he say? He couldn't tell her Drake was alive, he couldn't tell her anything, for fear that he would be overheard and incriminate himself. "I'm not supposed to talk about—"
"Is he alive?"
He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the guard. Whose eyes were forward, unblinking, for all the world as if he was a statue, granted, but that didn't mean he wasn't aware of what was going on around him. And without knowing whether Liv had talked to Ravi, it was impossible even to talk around the situation. So he opted for the tried and true response of accused criminals the world over. He looked Liv in the eye and said, "I didn't do this. All right? I swear. I'm sure … Drake is fine." Liv's face didn't change at the assurance, or at the denial, so it appeared Ravi had yet to tell her what he knew. "You should talk to Ravi," he told her. Then, because he still loved her and he needed a moment, a single moment, of something good to happen today, he added, "Just tell me you believe me."
Liv hesitated, and he could see that she was trying to work past her worry and suspicion to belief. "I want to," she said at last.
They looked at each other, neither sure what more there was to say.
Finally, Liv managed to move past her concern for her current boyfriend to her concern for her ex. "Are you okay?"
How he wanted to tell her all of it, to lay everything on her and have her support, her quick mind taking over from his weary and overburdened and hunger-addled brains. But he was in jail, and she was worried enough, and he couldn't do that to her. "Yeah. I'm just … you know … hungry."
Liv didn't downplay the concern, and he remembered that she had spent a couple of nights in jail without the sustenance she needed. "I do know," she said softly. "We're going to try to find you some accommodations for your diet."
"Okay. Thanks."
"Major, I—" But she stopped herself, whatever she was going to say. "Hold on, okay?"
"I'm trying."
They looked at each other again, under the circumstances not even really able to take comfort in each other's presence, and then Liv shifted in her seat. "I should go."
Major wanted to protest, to beg her to stay as long as they'd let her, that looking at her was far, far better than anything else he could be doing with his time—but the fear in her face made that less true than it might have been, as did the knowledge that he couldn't tell her anything real, or comforting, as long as he was in here. "Okay. Thanks for coming."
She nodded briefly, hung up the phone, and was gone, and Major was walked back to his cell where the exercise in futility began again.
His torture wasn't endless. He was called in for questioning again after a couple of endless hours had passed, brought to the police station, and chained to the table. This time his lawyer was there, and he hoped they could somehow make it so they'd let him go. There were a lot of healthy brains in this room, and they smelled so good.
The lawyer opened up his laptop, reading over a deposition or something while he let the questioning continue. Clive and Bozzio took up their seats across the table from Major, their files laid out in front of them.
"Ready to talk today?" Bozzio asked.
Major glanced at the lawyer. "Am I?"
"Nope."
He looked at Bozzio. "Nope."
"You may find that telling the truth is better than hiding behind … legal counsel," Clive put in, the tone of his last two words indicating exactly what he thought of Brant Stone.
"Fine." Bozzio opened the file. "Let's get started."
"I told you I've got nothing to say."
"They all tell me that."
He would have admired her confidence if it wasn't so focused on getting him to incriminate himself.
Bozzio slid a picture across the table to Major, of a smiling Chaos Killer victim. "Recognize this man?"
Major glanced at it, briefly. "No."
"He's Sam Adams, one of your first victims. His kids say you trained him the day before he went missing." When Major didn't answer, keeping his expression as even and emotionless as he could, Bozzio leaned forward a little, appealing to him. "Tell us where to find the bodies. Give the victims' families some closure."
Stone snapped his computer shut at that, sitting back in his chair. "He can't tell you that; my boy has no idea. And you have thirty hours to either charge him, or let him go." He looked toward the door, shouted "Guard!", and got to his feet, while Clive and Bozzio looked frustrated and unhappy. Major was a little bit frustrated and unhappy, himself. He had been hoping the questioning session would either result in his release or take up a lot more time. Stone, uninterested in all their feelings, put his briefcase on the table and tucked his laptop back into it. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to get back to my office and rub ointment on my shiba inu's ass, because the breeder sold me a thousand-dollar dog with mange. So if you're looking for a real crime to go after …" He turned to the guard, who had come into the room at his call, and gestured that Major should be unchained from the table. "Take my client back to jail."
Back to jail. Major's heart sank. It would almost be worth telling them, if only so he could get something to eat. But that wouldn't happen if he told them the truth, or any part of it. What remained of his rational mind knew he was best off following the lawyer's advice. He could hold out a little longer. He had to.
As the guard unlocked the chains, Bozzio and Clive got to their feet, watching the interview end with dismay written plainly on their faces.
Stone looked at them both matter-of-factly. "This conversation is not getting anybody anywhere." He followed Major as the guard led him from the room. In the hallway, he stopped Major. "Remember, the mouth stays shut everywhere, not just in that room."
"I remember."
"Good." He nodded. "We'll have you out of here in no time."
Major wholeheartedly wished that wasn't just a figure of speech. He hoped the bus transporting him back to jail got stuck in traffic. A lot of traffic. Even being chained in a bus looking out at Seattle had to be better than sitting in his jail cell and dreaming about eating brains. Somewhere back in time he'd had a normal life. He wasn't even sure he remembered what that was like anymore.