“So, she could groom him as you did her?”
His eyes snap to mine. “I loved Donna.”
“If you loved her so much, why not just stay with her? Why did you,” I pause and center myself. I have to be careful with my wording, or he’ll stop talking. “Why did you pay Samson for young girls?”
Lawson inhales and moans. “I can still smell them, ya know. And see their precious faces when I took their virginity. They looked so serene.”
Or they were scared for their lives. I bite my tongue. He’s talking, and I don’t want to interrupt him. But I also don’t want to hear talk about this shit. He’s disgusting, and this world needs to be rid of him.
“What else can you tell me about Samson?”
Lawson shrugs again, and I want to reach across the table and strangle him.
“Where did you meet him?”
“Oh, you’re not going to believe this, pretty FBI lady.” He motions for me to lean closer. I do, against my better judgment. “My dad,” he whispers.
I jump back instantly. His dad? There’s no way. “Are you telling me that former Admiral Ingram knows Constantin Samson?”
Lawson nods. “Good ole daddy.” He sighs. “How come you never asked why?”
“Why what?”
“Why I’m like this?”
Because you’re a sick fuck.
“Why are you like this, Ted?”
“Maybe Mrs. Ingram loved boys.”
I let his words linger in the air. “Are you telling me your mother molested you?” Fucking wonderful. He’s setting himself up for an appeal.
He deadpans. “Molesting? Why would you use such a despicable word for love?”
Love? Is that what he calls what he’s done to these little girls, love?
“Does your mother come to visit you?”
He nods.
I glance at the guard quickly and then back at Ted. “Have you spoken with your father?”
“No, his lawyer won’t allow us to speak.” Lawson looks down at the table and sighs.
“When you were on Samson’s yacht, who else was there?”
“Don’t remember?”
“Okay. Did Renato work for Samson?”
He shakes his head. “Can I see the girl again?”
I pull the image from the folder and show him quickly. He reaches for it when I start to put it away and then slams his hands on the table. “I want more.”
“You can have more when you tell me more about your relationship with Samson. How did your father know him?”
His eyes dart to mine. “You know when a father catches his son and daughter fucking usually there is a consequence or something. Not at our house. Donna and I were told ‘not to get caught,’ which meant ‘don’t let anyone know you have the same father’ in our house. My mother would hear us and turn the television up louder, and my staff in DC knew that when Donna was there, to leave and lock up. I didn’t want anyone to interrupt us. She was so very special to me.”
“Special.”
“She was special, and you killed her. You took her from me.” Lawson starts to cry. “Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him, even though it’s a lie. “The authorities took her body away, and no one claimed her.”
“Such a pity.” His attention drifts away and he stares at the wall. “It was her idea, ya know. To marry that SEAL. She had the idea to send the packages as well.”
“Whose idea was it to tell everyone the team died?”
“Mine,” he says happily. “I saw the McCoy girl and wanted her, but her mother was a bitch and wouldn’t let me in, so I destroyed her life. I told my dad I would come clean about mine and Donna’s relationship if he didn’t help me. So, he did.”
“And how does Samson fit into all of this?”
“He gave me money for my campaign.”
“In exchange for what?”
“Not what,” he says, staring me down.
“Okay,” I say as I swallow hard. “Who? Who did you give to Samson?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
Lawson leans forward. “Because she went into hiding and even after I had her father declared dead, her bitch of a mother kept her from me.”
My heart drops into my stomach and stays there. I do everything I can to keep my face neutral. I knew Claire would be sold but had no idea to whom. I reach for my folder. I’ve had enough of him for the day.
“Wait, don’t go. I’ll tell you more.”
“Like what?”
“Like how Constantin lives in the US and has an alias.”
“I’m listening.”
He eyes the folder. “What do you have for me?”
I open it up and thumb through the file. I find a picture of him and Donna from when they were teens and set it on the table. His eyes go wide.
“God, she was precious. She would do whatever I wanted. Anything I asked her. She just wanted to please me.”
I say nothing and slowly pull the photo back to me.
“He works as a principal,” Lawson says.