Michael and Dean glanced at each other, then at me.
“I won’t ask you again.”
Agent Sterling waited until the door shut behind the boys before she spoke. “What were you and Dean doing out at the old Redding house?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Was there nothing she didn’t know?
“Christopher Simms wasn’t the only one who contacted the police,” Sterling informed me. “The local police hear ‘teenage prowlers’ out on Redding’s old property, mere minutes after someone files a complaint about Dean, and one guess where their minds go.”
Even I had to admit this didn’t look good.
“He needed to go back,” I said, my voice soft but unwavering. “Just to see it.”
Sterling’s jaw clenched, and I wondered if she was thinking of the time she’d spent on that property, bound hand and foot in a toolshed that no longer existed.
“Dean needing to go back there, it wasn’t about his father.” I paused to let that sink in. “This visit, it had nothing to do with Daniel Redding.”
Sterling turned that over in her mind. “His mother?” she asked.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to. After another tense moment of silence, a question burst out of my mouth. “Has anyone talked to her?” I just kept thinking that my mother had had many faults, but she never would have left me. And Dean’s mother hadn’t just left—she’d had a chance to get him back, and she’d said no. “If our UNSUB is obsessed with Redding, Dean’s mother could be a target,” I continued. There were reasons to talk to Marie that had nothing to do with wanting to shake some sense into her—or at the very least, make her face what she’d done to Dean.
“I talked to her,” Sterling said shortly. “And she’s not a target.”
“But how could you—”
“Dean’s mother lives in Melbourne,” Sterling said. “As in Australia—halfway across the world and well out of the reach of this killer. She didn’t have any information relevant to the case and has asked that we leave her alone.”
Like she left Dean?
“Did she even ask about him?” I asked.
Sterling pursed her lips. “No.”
Given what I knew about Agent Sterling and her relationship with Dean, I was betting that she’d gone into that call the same way I would have: hating Marie for what she’d done, but halfway convinced that if she just said the right thing or asked the right question, she could undo it. Agent Sterling hadn’t ever wanted to believe that the Naturals program was Dean’s best option, but now I could practically hear her thinking, If it weren’t for this program, he’d have nowhere else to go.
“You should add Christopher Simms to your suspect list,” I said. When she didn’t immediately shut me down, I continued, “He’s not a small person, but he doesn’t have the kind of presence you’d expect from someone his size. He moves slowly, talks slowly, not because he’s unintelligent or uncoordinated, but because he’s deliberate. He’s inhibited. Not shy, not awkward, just holding something in.”
“Cassie—” She was going to tell me to stop, but I didn’t give her the chance.
“Christopher was outside when we approached the house. If I had to guess, I’d say he does all the outdoor chores. The lawn was overgrown—maybe it’s his way of striking out at his mother, even as he does her bidding in everything else. He’s pulling at the bit, but he’s old enough that if he really wanted to, he could move out.” The words were pouring out of my mouth, faster and faster. “His mother mentioned that he has plenty of friends, and I saw nothing to make me think that he was antisocial or particularly inept. So why doesn’t he move out?” I answered my own question. “Maybe he thinks she needs him. Maybe he wants her approval. Maybe she guilts him into it. I don’t know. But I do know that when he snapped, it happened in an instant, and he didn’t go for Michael or Dean. He went for me.”
I finally stopped for a breath. For a few seconds, Sterling just stood there.
“You said that the UNSUB was comfortable with firearms, but less sure of himself when it came to unarmed confrontations. I was the easy target in that room, and I was the one he went for.”
Maybe Christopher had reached for me because I was the one talking. Maybe he’d been actively trying not to start a fight and thought that I was the only one of the three of us who wouldn’t respond with a punch.
Or maybe he was the kind of guy who liked asserting himself against women.
“Were there any firearms in the house?” Sterling asked. I got the sense that the question had slipped out. She hadn’t meant to ask it.
“I didn’t see any guns.”