Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“When did you realize that Benedict Swain was the one who’d taken Lily Gallo?”
He didn’t have the patience for this bullshit.
Atlas sat at the interrogation room table, with Theodora by his side. Like the good lawyer she was, Theodora had insisted on being present for his interrogation. Though why he was being interrogated, Atlas had no clue.
He wasn’t the bad guy.
That would be the dead man.
“Atlas?” Gage prompted, as he leaned forward. He sat across the table from Atlas, and his partner, FBI Agent Sharon Hinkle, hovered at his side. “When did you realize that Benedict Swain had taken Lily? Was it before or after you attacked me at your house?”
“Did I attack you?” A shake of his head.
“I don’t remember that.” Yes, he did. “Sorry.” Nope, not really.
“I remember being terrified for my fiancée’s well-being.
Just…I was not right in the head, emotionally.
I was far too desperate to get her back.
Everything from that scene is a blur for me.
” He had been desperate. True story. And determined.
As soon as he’d realized that Benedict had to be the one who’d taken her…
The pieces were there. I put them together.
Benedict—his home had been trashed, but video footage showed no one other than Benedict entering or leaving the residence for days before the explosion at the cabin.
And no one had gone in after until Atlas and Lily had made their little visit.
So if no one else had gone inside during that time frame…
Benedict, you tricky bastard, you trashed your own place. An attempt to throw them off the scent. And Benedict had deleted his own files at the police station. He’d hidden as much information as he could…because he’d been afraid people would realize the truth.
The detective was a killer. A monster.
But now he was dead.
Oh, sure, the EMTs and the doctors at the hospital had tried to save him. Dr. Phillip Owen had gone on the news—always eager to talk with reporters—and spoken about how the staff had done everything possible. But…
Some people couldn’t be saved.
It wasn’t the poison that had killed Benedict.
Lily would probably be disappointed when she learned that news.
The very first shot Atlas had fired—ah, yes, that one had done the trick when it drove into Benedict’s carotid artery.
The blood had pumped fast and furiously out of him.
He’d been bleeding out, dying, right in front of them from the moment that bullet connected.
“When did you know the truth?” Gage slammed a fist onto the table.
“I really don’t like the tone you are using with my client,” Theodora informed him with a sniff. “He’s a victim. And he’s cooperating with you.”
Atlas nodded. “I am a victim.”
Beneath the table, Theodora kicked him with her high heel.
Gage exhaled. He seemed to grab for his patience. “Atlas, I need to know exactly when you realized the truth about Benedict Swain—”
“You ever hear of the MacDonald Triad?” Atlas asked as he rubbed a hand along his jaw.
“I’ve studied psychology, yeah, I damn well know what the MacDonald Triad is!”
So much for grabbing onto his patience.
“What does it have to do with Benedict Swain?” Gage wanted to know.
“Benedict set fires as a kid.”
Gage just stared at him.
“Did I tell you that we were in the same group home as kids? No? Yes? Well, whatever. He set fires. That’s how he wound up in the same group home as me once upon a time.
You see, the rage he felt toward me? That was not new.
The man’s vendetta against me stretched back for years.
Ever since I came in one day and caught him burning the few clothes that I carried from place to place in a damn garbage bag.
” He could remember that day perfectly. “The fire was burning, he was laughing, and Benedict thought he’d just get away with what he’d done.
He didn’t, of course.” I used dirty, thin comforters to put out the flames.
I hit the flames, over and over again until only smoke remained.
Atlas looked down at his hands. He’d finally gotten bandages on the blisters he’d acquired while hauling Carl from the wreckage.
He hadn’t even been aware of those blisters.
He’d fired his gun just fine with them. If there had been pain, Atlas couldn’t remember it.
Or maybe he just would have endured any pain to save Lily.
But…looking at those bandages reminded him of Carl. Carl would be fine. The doctors had assured Atlas of that. His burns weren’t severe enough to require skin grafting, thankfully. He’d make a full recovery.
Atlas’s gaze lingered on his hands. He’d had blisters after the fire at the group home. Benedict had been so smug. So certain that Atlas couldn’t touch him.
But I caught you in the middle of the night, didn’t I, Benedict? I put a knife to your throat while the others slept nearby. I told you that if you ever touched something that belonged to me again, I’d kill you.
He’d kept that promise.
And…Atlas nodded as he shifted his attention back to the Feds.
“I believe bedwetting is another part of that triad. I do recall that supervisors at the group home found Benedict with soaked sheets on one occasion.” That occasion had been after Atlas put a knife to the guy’s throat.
“That would be two elements from the triad. The third element would have been hurting animals, and I just figured Benedict had done that, too. The guy probably had all three elements going for him, and when I added in the fact that the bastard has always hated me, always wanted to destroy me…” A shrug.
A long exhale. “When I stopped and thought about all of that stuff, the signs sure pointed to Benedict as being the killer.”
Gage’s face had gone stone hard. “You didn’t say a word to me about this at your house. And how the hell do you know so much about the Macdonald Triad?”
“I believe in being well read. Is that a crime?”
Another kick under the table from Theodora.
“As for not telling you, I do apologize, but you left too quickly. Ran out. So determined to save the day.”
“You wanted to find Lily yourself. You wanted to save her.”
“Absolutely, I wanted to save her. She’s mine.” Wait. Had that sounded too primitive? “My fiancée.” A slight correction. But the truth was…She is mine. Will always be mine.
“You wanted to kill Benedict Swain.”
Theodora tapped her well-manicured nails on the table. “That’s not a question. That’s a statement. Do you have actual questions for my client? Or can he go? Because he wants to reunite with his fiancée. They’ve both been through enough trauma.”
“Fine. I’ll rephrase.” A vein bulged near Gage’s right temple. “Did you intend to kill Benedict Swain?”
Yes. But instead of saying that, Atlas replied, “I intended to rescue Lily. Once I realized Benedict had to be alive, I dug deep and fast and looked for any property connected to him. I realized there was a fishing cabin not too far away. The place belonged to Benedict’s father—the same father who gave him up years ago.
Jason Swain died three years ago, and no one was using that property.
It was isolated. Abandoned. Or, it should have been abandoned.
But someone was paying for the power to stay on at that abandoned spot. That looked like a red flag to me.”
“You figured Benedict was there.”
He’d figured correctly. “With the perfect body dumping spot—the nearby lake—yeah, I figured that would be where he’d take Lily.”
The vein bulged a little harder. “Instead of sharing that news with the authorities, you went off on your own. With a gun.”
“I have been stalked and kidnapped recently. I was certainly within my rights to have a gun for protection.”
“You used the gun to kill.”
Theodora’s nails had stopped tapping. “My client saved his fiancée! My client—”
“I think he fired first,” Atlas recalled.
“Everything happened so fast when I kicked in that door. He whirled toward me. His hand was flying toward his holster.” Atlas winced as he looked down at his shoulder.
His bandaged shoulder. The bullet had just grazed him, but he knew how to play up an injury.
Benedict couldn’t shoot for shit. His bullet barely skimmed me.
“When the door flew in, he was on top of Lily. He was hurting her. I stopped thinking. He fired, I fired and…” An exhale.
“I guess he won’t be hurting anyone else, will he? ”
Beside Gage, Sharon shook her head. “No, he won’t.” Sympathy filled her gaze as she stared at Atlas. “I’m very sorry for all you endured.”
“Thank you.” He exhaled and inclined his head toward her. “Any news on Hatch Davis?”
“His body was found,” Sharon revealed. “It was…um, a pretty gory scene.”
Dammit. Poor kid. “Benedict Swain was an exceedingly disturbed individual.”
“Yes, I believe that he was.” Sharon closed the file in front of her. “Thank you for your time.” She nudged Gage. “I believe we are done here?”
Gage kept glaring at Atlas.
Sharon leaned closer to him. “You know what Brass said. Time to go.”
Ah, had Gage been given orders to stand down?
Atlas snapped his fingers.
Gage’s eyes narrowed.
“I forgot,” Atlas said smoothly. “How did you get to the fishing cabin so quickly? Were you…following me?”
“I was given orders to stay close,” Sharon revealed. “To keep you safe. When you left so quickly, I called Gage.”
Atlas lifted his brows at Gage. “Is that what it was about? Keeping me safe?”
“What else would it have been about?” Gage finally rose to his feet. “We have some statements for you to sign. Then you’re…free to go.” It almost sounded as if he had to choke out those last words.
Atlas smiled. “How fantastic. And my fiancée, she’s free, too?”
Gage’s lips pressed together. “Yes. Not like Lily has committed any crime.”