"Right," Ken said.
The guard returned and escorted them into another room that was even smaller, containing just a table and a few chairs. In one of the chairs sat a man who, up until that moment, Nicky had only seen in his mugshot.
Bernard Brown.
He was a large man, in his late sixties, with white hair and a friendly smile. His blue eyes were cold, though. Bernard was dressed in prison scrubs, his hands handcuffed behind his back, and he had a crazed, yet amused look on his face.
"You must be Agent Lyons," Bernard said with a smile. His voice was friendly, too. "I would love to shake your hand, but..."
"No pleasantries necessary," Nicky muttered, ignoring the disturbing sensation she felt, looking into the eyes of this killer.
Ken was quiet, but Bernard was only looking at Nicky. She felt uncomfortable under his stare. According to his file, most of Brown's victims had been men. But maybe he hadn't seen a woman in a long time, and that was why he couldn't stop staring at Nicky.
Either way, it made her skin crawl.
"So," Bernard said, "how can I help you fine folks?"
Nicky cleared her throat and tried to look strong as she met his eyes. "You were John Wentz's cellmate," Nicky said.
A flicker of emotion crossed Bernard's face. Maybe even joy, likely at the memory of killing Wentz. "I was."
"We understand that Wentz confided in you about a friend," Nicky said. "A friend he claimed abducted a girl."
"Wentz was a liar," he said. "He liked to talk a lot, but he always lied. He was a very bad person."
"Just tell us the truth, Brown," Ken said. "We're not here to play games."
The old man smiled at Nicky. "You're a very beautiful young woman, Agent Lyons,” he said. “It’s too bad you chose such a…masculinecareer path.”
Nicky's eyes narrowed. "I'm here to ask you about John Wentz," she said. "Not about my looks."
"I'm only saying the truth," Bernard said. "I see you're a woman. I'm only saying your beauty is a truth I see. You would be much better suited for something that complements such beauty, but then again, if that were the case, I wouldn’t be blessed by your image on this fine day.”
Nicky wanted to slap him. She wanted to get up and leave, but she had to be professional. She had to be the agent that the FBI needed her to be, so she ignored his dehumanizing comments and continued, "Are you suggesting that Wentz lied about what he said about his friend?"
"Oh, no, that might have been a truth," Bernard said. "But how can we really know?"
"Did he ever mention the name of that friend?" Nicky asked.
Bernard went quiet. "Hmm. A name, you say. Wouldn't that be valuable information? If only I had it.”
"Listen, shitbag," Ken said. Still, not once, had Bernard looked away from Nicky, not even as Ken spoke. "If you give us the information we need, you might get rewarded with a book to read inside your isolation cell."
"Young man," Bernard said, eyes still on Nicky, "if one cannot sit alone with their thoughts and be content, then they are not complete individuals. Wouldn't you agree, Agent Lyons?"
Nicky didn't reply, but she felt like bugs were crawling all over her skin. Brown’s stare was unnerving. Nicky had met dozens of psychopaths and creeps alike in her career, but something about this one felt… different. She couldn’t place what it was.
"I will tell you one thing, and one thing alone," Bernard said, eyes buggy, but firm. "All roads lead to home, Agent Lyons. All roads lead to home."
Ken shoved away from the table. "This is a waste of time."
Nicky stood, too, but she held Bernard's eye contact and considered his words.All roads lead to home.
They left the interrogation room as Bernard shouted the phrase over and over again, cackling loudly, “All roads lead to home!”
Once back in the hallway, Ken slammed the door behind them and faced Nicky, but Nicky was still back in that room, replaying Brown’s words the same way he’d yelled them.
“That was useless,” Ken said. “That guy was just trying to toy with us.”