There was a crash in the interview room. Lincoln had rocked his chair until he tipped and hit the floor. Now he lay on his side, rocking and chanting, “Valla Eam.”
Abbott sighed. “Go get Hunter. What can it hurt?”
“We’re not going to get back to the deaf school before school’s out,” Kane said, “but I want one more go at Kenny. I’ll bring Hunter, then tell Oaks we’ll be back after dinner.”
“Val sent me a text saying she had a three o’clock interpreting commitment when I told her we were running behind,” Olivia said. “She’ll be busy for a while longer. I’ll tell her to be back at the school around seven.”
“I’ll get the fireman,” Kane said. “Don’t do anything exciting without me.”
Chapter Fifteen
Tuesday, September 21, 4:45 p.m.
David stood at the window looking at Lincoln, who was rocking in his chair. “What do you want me to do?”
“Go in and talk to him,” Olivia said. “Like you did at the cabin. Calm him down. Then I’ll come in and try to find out if he knows anything about these two fires. After that, we want to know if he knows where Moss is.”
“How long has he been schizophrenic?” David asked.
“Why does that matter?” Special Agent Crawford demanded.
David already didn’t like him, but that wasn’t his business.
“Since he was twenty-one,” Donahue said. “A common age to manifest.”
“And right about the time he met Moss,” David said. “ Lincoln was ripe for the picking by a radical cultlike leader, wasn’t he?”
“Likely,” Donahue agreed. “He would have been frightened and confused by what was happening in his mind and reached out to a group that helped him stay grounded.”
“SPOT?” Crawford snorted. “A radical environmental group kept him grounded?”
“They probably welcomed his zeal,” Donahue answered, as if Crawford hadn’t dismissed her. “When he was ‘up,’ he would have been quite an asset.”
“And seeing a charred body that he’d helped kill?” David said.
“Would have pushed him over the edge, putting horrific images in his mind.”
“Understandable,” David murmured. “I’ve seen a few charred bodies and it’s an… unforgettable sight.”
“Hunter,” Crawford said mockingly. “Do you feel sorry for this man?”
David looked him in the eye, gratified he had to look down several inches to do so. “This man killed a woman and permanently damaged the lives of two good firefighters. I don’t feel sorry for him.” Which was true when he thought about it like that. “Satisfied?”
Crawford had a sour look about him. “Yes.”
“Then I guess I’m ready to go in.” He walked into the room, pausing at the table. He had to remind himself that the pathetic man before him had violated Glenn’s belongings, was going to steal his laptop, and had been armed with a lethal weapon. Still, he couldn’t push Lincoln’s eerie whisper from his mind. Always there. Always there.
Did he feel sorry for the man? When he thought about the whisper, yes, David found that he did. But he struck all pity from his voice. “Hi, Lincoln.”
Lincoln’s rocking slowed, but it didn’t stop, nor did his chanting of Valla Eam.
David sat and began reciting one of Moss’s speeches, as he’d done before. Within a few minutes the chanting had slowed. After another few minutes, Lincoln was reciting along with him. Finally David stopped. After finishing the paragraph, Lincoln fell silent.
“Lincoln, the police wanted me to talk to you. You got upset. What happened?”
Lincoln scrunched his eyes closed. “He yelled. In my ear. In my head. It was loud.”
“I’m sorry,” David said quietly. “I don’t like it when people yell at me either. Lincoln, you know you’re in trouble, right?”
Lincoln nodded, saying nothing, eyes still squeezed shut.
“Detective Sutherland drove you down here. Can she talk to you now?”
The man didn’t open his eyes. “No.”
“Then, you have a problem,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “You broke into my house. You had a gun. The police want to know why.” And after the adrenaline had settled, David realized he wanted to know who’d told Lincoln he was there. “Detective Sutherland won’t be loud in your head. You need to stay calm.”
David rose when Olivia came into the room. “Hi, Lincoln.”
Lincoln still didn’t open his eyes. “He stays. Cat-saving fireman stays.”
Olivia’s blond brows rose. “He saves cats?”
“Little old ladies’ cats in trees. He stays.”
She motioned to a seat and David sat. She sat next to him, across from Lincoln. “He’s not your lawyer, Lincoln,” she murmured. “I read you your rights. You have the right to an attorney. David Hunter is not your lawyer.”
“I know. He stays. He understands.”
She met David’s eyes, a frown in hers. “What does he understand?” she asked, but Lincoln was silent. David shrugged, unsure of what to say in front of the man. Unsure what he’d say were he alone with her. Yes, he understood. But he wasn’t proud of it.
“Okay,” Olivia said softly. “I want to talk to you about the glass ball.”
“No. He’s listening.”
“Who?”
“The loud man. Where is Moss? Where is Moss?”
“No, he’s not. Special Agent Crawford had to leave. He’s not listening.”
David wasn’t sure if she was lying or not. Apparently Lincoln wasn’t either. Lincoln opened his eyes, searched her face plaintively. “He wants Moss.”
“Yes, he does,” she said. “But I want to talk about the glass ball.”
“It was Mother Earth,” Lincoln said dreamily. “Defend her. Valla Eam.”
“You left them at fires, these balls,” she said.
“Yes. Marked. Valla Eam.”
Olivia leaned forward. “How were they marked?”
“On the pole.”
She frowned slightly. “On the pole?”
“On the pole. Valla Eam.” He sang it and Olivia tilted her head, watching him.
“Okay. Did you mark the big glass ball that was left at the condo?”
Lincoln blinked, seeming genuinely surprised. “No.”
“How did you know about it?”
“News.”
“Where were you last night?”
“Blue Moon.” He sang again, this time singing the melody to the old song.
Her eyes sharpened. “The bar? On Hennepin? When did you leave?”
“Bells. Last call.” He called it, like a train conductor.
“I understand. Lincoln, how did you know it was David who caught the ball?”
“Firemen. But the old man said he didn’t live there in the old house.”
“How did you know he was in the cabin?”
“The girl told me. Baby smiled.”
The girls in 2A. “One of my tenants,” David whispered to Olivia and she nodded.
“Lincoln, do you know where Preston Moss is?”
Tears filled his eyes. “He left but she stays. Always there. Always there.” And then he began to rock again, his eyes clenched tightly.
“Who stays?” she asked, but Lincoln was gone again, back into his own mind.
“The woman he killed,” David murmured. “She’s always there, in his mind.”
“I think we’re done here,” she murmured. The two of them went to the observation room and David closed the door. “I don’t think he’s involved in our fires,” she said.
David searched the room. Crawford was indeed absent. “Where’s the FBI guy?”
“He got pissed when you said you were sorry he yelled at Lincoln,” Kane said. “Stomped out. What did he mean by ‘marked on the pole’?”
“The pole of the world?” Barlow said, frowning. “But there was no mention of that in any of the documentation I’ve read on SPOT.”
“Let’s see if our glass ball has a mark,” Abbott said. “As for this guy, psych ward at the jail. Fifteen minutes till our five o’clock. I’ll see you all in my office. Mr. Hunter, thank you. We appreciate your help this afternoon.”