Flawless(26)

He shook his head emphatically. “No, we were first, hitting stores with our toy guns and stealing, but leaving everyone alive. Our biggest fear was being shot by a guard or caught by the police, but no matter what, as you saw, we couldn’t shoot back.” He leaned forward. “I’m telling you, someone out there was hoping we’d be caught, that they’d get away with what they were doing because we’d been taken in.” He let out a deep sigh. “I’ve already written pages explaining every detail of the robberies we did plan and carry out. That child they gave me for a lawyer has them all. Someone has to prove we didn’t kill anyone.” His shoulders sank, and he glanced over to where Craig Frasier stood, legs slightly spread, arms folded across his chest, silent and unreadable. “I don’t suppose the agent over there thinks I might be telling the truth.”

“That agent is your best hope of the truth being accepted,” she told him.

He brightened. “You said ‘accepted.’ So that means you really do believe me?”

“Yes, I tend toward believing you,” she said.

“They won’t hit up another store now,” he said. “They won’t—not for a long time. Not until we’re tried and convicted for their crimes.”

“I’m sure the authorities have ways to find them whether or not they strike again,” Kieran said. She looked over at Craig Frasier.

He glanced at his watch. “We need to let Mr. O’Malley go now,” he told her. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask him?”

Mark O’Malley stared at her, clearly ready to give her any information she asked for.

“I think we’re good,” she said.

Craig nodded toward the guard at the door. As he walked over to uncuff O’Malley and lead him away, she walked toward Craig and asked, “Are we done?”

A smiled cracked the stone of his features. “Not by a long shot. We’ve just begun. There are three more men.”

And so the afternoon went on. She interviewed the other three men; each time the story she heard was the same, except for the details of each man’s participation in the robbery.

Each man swore passionately that they’d never killed. They had carried toy guns and no other weapons at any time. It was one thing to steal, another to kill. They had a certain code of honor, she realized as she spoke with them. All three men were deeply rooted in one form or another of religion, and all three had had a religious upbringing. In their minds, God forgave a man for taking from another who had too much, but he didn’t forgive the taking of a life.

Through every session, Craig Frasier stood a few feet behind her, tall and stoic, expression unwavering, arms folded across his chest. He heard everything that was said, and she knew that he was close enough to step in if there was the least hint of trouble.

There wasn’t. The men seemed almost baffled that anyone could think them capable of murder.

When the day was done at last and it was time to leave, they signed out and headed back across the bridge. As they drove, Frasier asked her, “What do you think?”

“I don’t think any of those men killed anyone. In my opinion, you do have a copycat group out there. There must be a way to prove that forensically. There must be computer programs that compare height and body characteristics. I pointed out what I saw, and if I saw it, it must be obvious via computer comparison.”

“Yep. And I have a man on it. So far the charges against them are only for the attempted robbery. There are huge arguments going on above my pay grade. These men, as you know, claim that all their robberies were in the state of New York. The powers that be are arguing over whether they should face federal or state charges, or both. We’re executing search warrants on their homes, and we’ll see what those yield. In my gut, I know that the killers are still out there,” he told her.

“If you’re so convinced,” Kieran said, “why do you need my opinion?”

“Verification,” he told her. He turned and looked at her. “No matter how things go down, you’ll be called in to testify, you know.”

“Yes, I know.”

Kieran was uneasy, wondering why, even though he was driving, she felt as if he were watching her suspiciously, seeing how the reminder that she would have to appear in court would affect her.

She looked out the window. She could picture the scene. She would be sworn in, agreeing under oath to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth—even though the prosecutor might well ask, Why were you in that jewelry store?

I went to see someone I know who works there.

Is that the truth?

Yes.

Allow me to remind you that you’re under oath.

All right, all right! I was returning a diamond my brother and my best friend stole. But they didn’t really steal it. They were just borrowing it.

And this “borrowed” diamond was in your possession?

“Miss Finnegan?”

“What?” She turned to look at Agent Frasier, startled.

“We’re here,” he told her.

“Oh! Ah, thank you.”

They were parked in front of the offices of Fuller and Miro.

“No, thank you. I mean it. Thank you for your help.”

She knew she should get out of the car. That this would be the last she would see of Agent Craig Frasier, at least until the trial. And when that happened, the thieves were going to be the ones in the hot seat, not her.