CHAPTER TEN

Faith and Michael observed Oliver from the other side of the two-way mirror. After being so concerned about staying within the confines of the law, she felt a little guilty for the way she had detained Hilary. It was walking right on the edge of proper procedure, but if things went south with the search or the interrogation, a good lawyer could spin it to make her look really bad.

She really did owe Hilary an apology.

"He's sweating," Michael said.

"You think we should turn down the temperature in the room?"

He stared at her for a moment. "I don't mean he's literally perspiring, Faith, I mean he's nervous. Are you sure you're okay? You seem off."

She sighed. "Yes, I'm fine. Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind right now."

"Well, shut off the parts that aren't focused on the case. I don't mean to be a prick, but we've got a job to do."

"I know. You're right." She paused a second, then added, "Prick."

He chuckled. "There's the Faith I know."

The door opened, and Detective Hilary entered. His lively step and the slight smile on his face told Faith that the search had gone as hoped.

"We have hundreds of photographs and videos of a lot of women who will be very unhappy to learn of said photos and videos," he announced to the agents. "Giacomo was telling the truth. Our boy here's a creep."

"Good to know," Faith said, relieved that their gamble had paid off. "Now let's go see if he's a murderer."

"I'll hang back here," Hilary said. "I tend to intimidate suspects."

Michael gestured to Turk. "Bet you're not as intimidating as this guy."

Hilary grinned. "I am almost certainly not."

The three FBI agents walked into the room. Almost immediately, Oliver Pennington said, "I want a lawyer."

"That's a good idea," Faith said, "because Chicago P.D. found a lot of pictures and videos of the women you've been stalking."

Oliver flinched and cast terrified eyes up at Faith. "But… they had no right to do that! Who complained? Did Sam say something to them?"

"Who's Sam?" Michael asked innocently.

Oliver's mouth opened and closed like a fish. Then he said, "It's… I… how… why would you guys get a warrant without talking to me?"

He was whining, almost like a child. Faith stifled the look of disgust that played at the corners of her lips. Turk made no attempt to hide his distaste, snorting in contempt at the man.

"Seems like a good thing we did," Michael said. "You clearly aren't in a mood to cooperate."

"I'm not obligated to incriminate myself."

"That's true. You have a Fifth Amendment right not to admit to taking sexually explicit pictures of women without their consent. The problem is that those women have a right to not have their privacy violated by a sick asshole who thinks it's okay to treat them like objects. We decided to defend their right. You, of course, have the option of defending your right."

"Who's Sam," Faith asked, much less innocently than Michael had.

Oliver's eyes flicked between the two human agents. He was clearly trying to decide if it was worth trying to lie to them. When the K9 agent growled softly, Oliver's eyes flicked his direction, and he decided it wasn't worth it. "Sam is my yoga instructor."

" Is your yoga instructor?"

"Is… was my yoga instructor. One of them. I haven't been to her class in a while, but she's one of them."

"Until she kicked you out of her class, right?" Michael asked. "Because of your little habit of taking pictures of women without their consent?"

Oliver paled further, something Faith would have sworn was impossible if she hadn't just seen it with her own eyes. "I didn't hurt anyone," he insisted.

"Why do you bring that up?" Faith asked. "I didn't ask if you hurt anyone."

He blinked. "I mean, I didn't… I just…" He blinked again. "I want a lawyer."

"Before we get you one," Faith said, "I should tell you that Samantha Reynard and Cassidy Holt are dead."

He flinched. "What? Sam was killed?"

"That's interesting. I said she was dead. You said she was killed."

He shifted anxiously. "Well, I assume she is since you're asking me about her. Why would you care unless it was murder? But I didn't do it, okay?"

"Tell me what happened between you and Sam."

"Sam caught me… thought she caught me staring at some of the girls in the class. I didn't mean to stare, but sometimes the poses put me in positions that make it look like I'm staring."

"Got it," Michael said sarcastically. "It was an accident."

"Look, that's all it was," Oliver insisted. "She asked me not to come to her class, so I stopped. Ask the other instructors. She was the only one I had trouble with."

"Must have been embarrassing to have her call you out like that," Faith observed.

Oliver lifted his hand as far as the shackle would allow and pointed at Faith. "I know what you're trying to do. I didn't kill her."

"Talk to me about Cassidy Holt," Faith said. "How did you know her?"

His eyes shifted again. Turk caught the movement and growled. He began to tap the table, then finally sighed and said, "If I talk to you guys, will you promise not to trick me?"

"Trick you?" Michael asked.

"Into saying anything that could get me into trouble."

"We won't trick you," Faith said. "We don't trick people. We ask honest questions and expect honest answers."

"Yes, but…" He sighed. "Damn it. What did you find in my apartment?"

"According to the police detective who conducted the search, hundreds of photographs and videos of women taken without their knowledge or consent."

He slumped forward and dropped his head into his hands. "Oh shit," he hissed. "Damn it. Fuck, I didn't hurt anyone. They're just pictures. Why would women dress like that anyway if they didn't want guys to notice?"

"Grow up," Michael said contemptuously. "You're thirty-four years old. You're seriously going to try to pull that crap? You know they didn't want you taking pictures of them. That's why you did it without asking and only when they didn't notice."

"They're just pictures! I was never going to do anything to them!"

"Cassidy Holt," Faith said, trying to bring the conversation back to the subject at hand. "How did you know her?"

Oliver looked like he was going to be sick. He tapped on the table and squirmed in his seat.

"You already admitted to taking pictures, Oliver," Faith said. "The police already found the evidence. If Cassidy Holt and Samantha Reynard show up in any of those pictures, we'll find out. All that remains to be seen is if you'll cooperate with us or make things difficult."

"On that note," Michael added. "If you aren't the murderer, then cooperating with us will make life much easier for you. Once you prove to us that you're not a killer, we lose interest. Then your case becomes a P.D. case over a peeping Tom."

"I thought I was innocent until proven guilty."

"That's the assumption the court makes when you go to trial, yes. But it's our job to catch murderers. Right now, you look like a murderer. So we're going to try to catch you. Jump off of this hook, Oliver, if you can."

Oliver took a deep breath and released it in a heavy sigh. "Cassidy Holt visited the pharmacy. I filled her prescription and got her address that way. She was hot, man. I mean, she was hot hot. I've always liked petite girls, so I visited her home a few times and got some pictures of her coming out of the shower."

Faith controlled her visceral reaction to that admission. She was grateful now that she had given in and allowed Hilary to get his warrant. "Did you kill her, Oliver?"

"No!"

"Maybe you tried to make a move on her?" Michael said. "She rejected you, you got upset, things got out of hand."

"No! I never tried to make a move on her."

"Maybe she caught you?" Faith asked. "In front of her house. Threatened to call the police. You knew what would happen if they found your collection, so you killed her to silence her."

Oliver scoffed. "Oh yeah, I committed murder to keep her from telling the cops I take pictures."

"Sarcasm is not your friend here, bud," Michael advised.

Oliver began to shake. "When did they die?"

Faith lifted an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"When did they die? I want to know if I have an alibi for their deaths so I can prove I didn't kill them."

Faith and Michael exchanged a look. "Fair enough," Michael said. "Cassidy Holt died five days ago. Samantha Reynard died two days ago."

"At night or daytime?"

"Night."

He slumped forward, releasing his breath in a whoosh of air. "Oh, thank God. Thank God."

Faith's heart sank. "You have an alibi?"

"Yes." He lifted his head. The relief on his face was palpable. "Yes, I have an alibi. I was taking video of other women both nights."

Michael scoffed. "Oh, boy."

"Hey, it's better than murdering people, right?"

"What a lofty personal standard you set."

"So those videos will prove that you couldn't have been at the crime scenes," Faith said, "the murder scenes, I mean."

"Yes. Let's see, five nights ago, I was at Georgia's house. She had her boyfriend over, and she left her window open a crack, so I got to see them doing it."

"Jesus Christ," Michael exclaimed.

Faith lifted her hand to quiet him, then asked, "And two nights ago?"

"I was at the gym. Margot was there, and she looks just like the famous girl with the same name. I found a hole in the girls' locker room and managed to get a camera through into the showers."

"You realize that's classified as sexual assault, right?" Michael said. "You're going to have to register and tell every neighbor you ever have that you're an offender."

"But I'm not a murderer. I won't spend the rest of my life in prison."

"Good point," Faith admitted. "These videos are time stamped?"

"Yes! And you can't edit the timestamps."

"You can, but cybercrimes will be able to tell when the video was actually created," Faith said. "Okay, we'll follow up."

They left the room and rejoined Hilary to find him looking through the footage they'd recovered. He lifted a grim fact to the three of them and began to turn his laptop around.

"I don't need to see the videos," Faith said. "Just tell me if his alibi checks out."

"It checks out," Hilary said.

She sighed. "Shit."

"We'll get a creep off the streets, at least," Hilary said.

"And guys like that escalate," Michael pointed out. "He's a ticking time bomb who we just defused."

"That might be true," Faith allowed, "but we have an active missile out there zooming in on its next target. I'd much rather we stopped him."

"We'll get him, Faith," Michael promised. "We always do."

"I know we'll get him," she said. "But will we get him before he sprinkles yellow powder over another woman's dead body?"

Michael didn't have an answer to that.