Chapter 3

"Let me get this straight. You want to reopen my case?"

Frank Woods looked at me from behind his bangs that had grown long and fell into his eyes. Being in his mid-fifties, he was almost twenty-five years older than me, yet I couldn't help but find him attractive. His smile and his eyes bore a secret in them that drew me in. He had been described as a womanizer and a player in the media, but that wasn't what I saw. He was charming, yes, but not in a bad way. He wasn't flirting with me, and sitting across from him didn't make me feel as uncomfortable as I had expected. The media had painted an ugly picture of him back then, and I was beginning to think it was quite unfair.

He leaned forward, and his chains rattled.

"Do you mind elaborating?"

I smiled. "I understand why you're confused."

He scoffed. "Confused is quite the understatement. Do you have anything to base this request on? I've admitted to killing her. What can you possibly have that will prove I didn't?"

I looked down at my file, then shook my head before lifting my gaze again. "I don't have anything solid, and that's why I came to you first. I need you to give me access to your wife's things. I think they might have missed something important when going through it all six years ago, but I can't prove it. I assume you still have all your old stuff from the house? Maybe in boxes somewhere?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, my sister-in-law lives in the house with the kids now. She takes care of them. You'll have to ask her. I guess."

"I thought that maybe if I got you to give me permission, then it might be easier. I'm assuming she's not interested in helping you?"

That made him laugh. "Oh, no. She hates my guts. I can't blame her. I would hate me too."

"That's what I'm hoping to be able to change," I said. "I hope to clear your name and give you your life back. I think you're innocent."

That made him laugh again. "You think I'm innocent?"

I nodded nervously. "Yes."

"You're crazy, do you know that?"

"I'll have to get used to being called that. I have a feeling I'll hear that a lot if I pursue this further."

He leaned back and gave me a suspicious look. "Are you even a real agent? You're pretty young."

I showed him my badge and photo ID. "But I am. A profiler."

"That looks brand new; how long have you had it?"

I blushed. "That's beside the point."

"Ah, I see. Young and eager to prove our worth, are we?"

"Maybe, but that shouldn't…."

"Tell me, why should I trust you?"

"Do you have a choice?" I asked, fighting to sound as confident as possible. "I don't see anyone else here trying to help you."

He shrugged. "I can say no."

"That's your choice, yes, of course. But then you'll have to rot in here for the rest of your life while sticking to your little lie that you killed your own wife."

Frank Woods paused. His smile went stiff, and he leaned back in his chair again. He stared at me for a few seconds, biting the inside of his cheek.

"I think our little chat is over."

"No, please," I said, placing a hand on the table. "I'm sorry if I offended you. I really need to do this. It's been driving me crazy. We went over your case during training, and it kept bothering me; it kept me awake at night."

Frank scoffed again. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

He narrowed his eyes. "You genuinely believe that I'm innocent?"

"Yes. That's what I've been trying to tell you all along."

"Even when I tell you that I'm not?"

"Yes."

He whistled. "Wow, either you're the smartest agent alive or the dumbest. I can't seem to figure out which one."

"Maybe let me be the judge of that," I said, grinning. I had been thinking the same thing repeatedly these past months when going over Frank's case in my mind, unable to let it go.

"So, what do you say? Will you give me access to your house and your things?" I asked hopefully.

He glared down at me. I couldn't blame him for being cynical. He had claimed his innocence for a long time, but no one believed him. In the end, he had finally told them he did it. I thought he had just caved because the pressure was too much, and he knew he couldn't win. That was one of my theories. Another was that he had admitted his guilt to protect someone else—someone dear to him. But I knew he would never tell me, so I didn't ask, at least not yet.

Then, he nodded. "Okay, little miss profiler. You have my permission. I'll have my lawyer write a letter to my sister-in-law and make sure she doesn't get in your way. Let's see what you can do."

That made me smile widely. "You won't regret it, Mr. Woods."

"I sure hope not," he said with a wink as the guards came back in and pulled him to his feet. He shuffled forward toward the door when he suddenly stopped and looked back at me.

"Let me ask you this, miss profiler… why my case? Of all the cases? Lots of people in here claim to be innocent. I don't. Why me? Why now?"

I sighed. I had asked myself that same question over and over again, trying to convince myself to leave it alone.

"Let's just say your profile didn't exactly fit this killer. As I said, we reviewed your case in class, and I didn't believe you did it at any point. I promised myself I'd take a closer look once I was hired. I don't think I can sleep until I do."

"You seem very sure, even though I say I killed her."

"I don't believe you. I know a liar when I see one."

That made him laugh, and as he was escorted out, he mumbled, "I like her."