“Remember,” Murdoch had said, “John needs you there, nice or not. He will do whatever he has to, say whatever he can, to keep you in that room and not have to go back to his cell.”
Luna checked the clock. She and Murdoch had agreed on limiting catch-up to ten minutes. John had many questions for Luna, most of which were off-limits. She would not reveal any specific details of her life. John asked if she was in college. Luna said she was, back East. Where? John asked. Nope, Murdoch said, staring the prisoner down.
“I heard you got a new name,” John said. “Grey. Not very original, is it?”
He shouldn’t have had that information. Murdoch considered ending the interview right there. It was possible that John Brown was bluffing, that there were no more bodies and he was just trying to do as much damage as he could from inside.
“Were there others?” Luna asked.
John ignored her question. The meeting was going to move according to his own pace. Agent Murdoch reminded John Brown that there was a clock on the reunion. He had forty-five more minutes, and then Luna was gone. There were other incentives—a different prison, his own cell, that kind of thing—but additional face time with Luna was off the table.
John Brown reminisced about a trip to the county fair where he’d let Luna eat three voluminous clouds of cotton candy. Then he held her hair while she puked pink until her guts were empty.
“Prettiest vomit I ever saw,” Brown said, chuckling, trying to get Luna to join in on the laughter.
When she didn’t laugh, his expression soured.
“You’re not as fun as you used to be.”
“Maybe your expectations for this reunion were unrealistic,” Luna said.
Brown ignored the comment and began to reminisce about old pets. Bruno the cocker spaniel, Cleo the cat. “Did Bee ever meet an animal she didn’t fall in love with?”
“Who’s Bee?” Murdoch asked.
“My mother,” Luna said.
“How is she?” Brown asked.
“Fine.”
“What does that mean, ‘fine’?” Brown said.
“It means I’m not going to tell you anything about her,” Luna said.
“Remember that snake-squirrel she brought home? What was its name? Hermes? Something like that.”
“Don’t remember that,” Luna said.
Her mother didn’t get ferrets until their move to Canada, as far as Luna recalled.
“You don’t remember that ferret?” Brown said.
“I don’t.”
“You couldn’t breathe, Taco. We had to take you to the hospital.”
Luna had a foggy recollection of a hospital corridor, the raspy sound of her own breath, fighting for air.
“Vaguely,” Luna said. “I remember a stray cat causing that asthma attack.”
“Trust me,” Brown said. “It was Hermes, that filthy fucker. God, that thing stank.”
“I don’t remember,” Luna said.
“It was my first,” John said. “I did it for you. Then I found I had an aptitude for it.”
It took Luna a moment to understand what he was saying. Her throat felt dry. Too dry to speak. She wanted to ask for water, but she worried that Brown would see weakness in that. He already had too much power, having just carved a new memory into her brain.
“The lights are bothering me,” Luna said.
“Turn ’em off,” Brown said.
“No,” Murdoch said. “Luna and I will step outside for a few.”
“Maybe I don’t feel like waiting around,” Brown said.
Murdoch knew he was bluffing. But he played along.
“You got something better to do? We’ll be back in five,” Murdoch said.
Luna sat down on the floor in the hallway and closed her eyes.
“Hanging in there?” the agent asked.
“Yes,” Luna said.
Murdoch took a pair of aviators from his pocket and offered them to Luna. “Maybe this helps?”
Luna donned the sunglasses. “It’s better,” she said. “But it’ll piss him off.”
“That’s okay. You’re safe,” Murdoch said. “So, what’s your gut telling you? Other girls?”
Luna got to her feet. “I don’t think so. But let’s just make sure.”
“Take those off,” Brown said, when Luna walked in wearing sunglasses.
“John, it’s time to get down to business. Luna has a plane to catch.”
John refused to acknowledge Agent Murdoch. He wanted the man to go away and leave Luna alone in the room. He knew it would never happen, so the best he could do was pretend the lawman wasn’t there.
“All these years, Taco—you couldn’t have written at least once?”
“I didn’t want to,” Luna said.
“Did you get my letters?”
“Got them. But didn’t read them.”
“I bet Bee threw them away.”
“No. It was my decision.”
“That’s okay,” John said. “I forgive you.”
“You forgive me,” Luna said. “For what?”
“John,” Murdoch said. “Let’s get to business.”
“You let me take the fall for everything.”
“You killed them,” Luna said.
“Sure, I did the heavy lifting. I was the bank robber; you were just the getaway driver. But we were a team. Admit that.”
“No.”
“You knew what you were doing when you lied to the police. I just want you to own that part of it.”
“You’re right, John. I knew I was lying. Then I was afraid to change that lie. I take some responsibility for Lila. But we were not a team.”
“John,” Murdoch said. “Were there others?”
Brown kept seeing his own reflection in Luna’s sunglasses, which infuriated him. Luna could feel his anger. Her skin was prickly and cold.
“I think we should go,” Luna said.
“You’re not in charge here, young lady, I am. There are four corpses in unmarked graves and only I know where they are,” Brown said.
“We can get a map. You could show us the general area,” Murdoch said.
John held his gaze on Luna. “No. I’d have to be there myself to jog my memory. If you want to arrange a field trip, I’d be happy to show you.”
“What’s the general vicinity?” Murdoch asked.
“In the general vicinity of Denver. A place where there’s land and dirt and you can bury someone without being seen. Doesn’t narrow it down much, I know. Like I said, you need me to find the graves.”
“What were their names?” Luna asked.
“Not sure I’m ready to answer that,” John said.
“How about one?” Luna asked.