Chapter 9
He stood glaring through the two-way mirror at the man sitting at the interrogation table, an angry revulsion darting through him. Reese had been more than a little surprised when the scum had waived his rights to an attorney, saying he didn't see the point. Now he quietly waited to be questioned. He looked very calm and controlled, his hazel eyes staring down at the table as they watched the index finger of his right hand trace an invisible figure eight over and over again on the wooden surface. There was no resemblance to the half-crazed maniac that Nick and Tracy had brought in an hour ago. Even with the cuffs on, he'd been more than a handful. But Nick's remarkable ability to restrain the suspect had kept the situation from becoming tempestuous. Where he got the strength, Joe didn't know. Knight wasn't really the muscular type. He was lean and hard, but never struck the captain as being a Hercules. However, he certainly knew how to handle himself. The uncooperative perp hadn't had a chance. Hardwick had looked as if he were being held by bands of steel as Knight wrapped restraining arms around him and pushed him into the holding cell.
To look at the man now it was almost as if he were a different person. The distorted, angry features were now relaxed while his demeanor had turned cool, almost to the point of being aloof. He'd calmed down almost immediately after Knight had 'put' him into the cell and had signed the attorney waiver soon after. The sudden, drastic change was creepy, but not totally unexpected. The information on the FBI flyer said he was prone to quick, extreme swings in mood and personality. One minute he was completely out of control, and the next he was composed and civilized. Just as he looked now.
Civilized? Reese sneered to himself. Hardly civilized. A monster like Hardwick could never be described as civilized as far as he was concerned. Garrison Hardwick, on the FBI's top ten most wanted list for the last two months, raped and murdered little girls. There was nothing civilized about that.
Another wave of disgust hit Reese as he looked at the evil sitting in the next room. As soon as he'd seen the composite, he'd headed for the FBI file. Hardwick had escaped from the authorities while being moved from Illinois to Michigan to stand trial for one of the fifteen rape/murders he'd been accused of committing over the past eight years. How he'd eluded the all-out manhunt that resulted, Joe didn't know. Much less how he'd made it across the border into Canada. But he had.
And now Garrison Hardwick was in Reese's custody, safely off the street. But not before he'd victimized one of the children of Toronto. Joe felt the fury rise again as he thought about the unspeakable horror little Mary Huntsfield had been subjected to by the devil sitting on the other side of the glass. She'd only been twelve years old, for God's sake, right in the range of Hardwick's victims, ten to sixteen.
Damn. How sick can a man get? Joe silently questioned. But was Hardwick sick? According to the U.S. justice system, he knew what he'd done was wrong, and therefore was sane enough to stand trial for his actions. And he would stand trial. There would be no escaping this time. If the captain had to stand guard over Hardwick himself, the son-of-a-bitch would face justice. Whether it be in Canada or the United States.
Joe's slow sigh was the result of both satisfaction and disappointment. It had been too late to save Mary, but the covert scouring of Toronto over the last two days had been successful. The beast in the drawing was no longer loose. Thanks to a lot of good police work, a little luck and a favorable nod from the Man upstairs. They'd gotten a call from the manager of a sleazy motel on the outskirts of town. He'd said a couple of uniforms had shown him the picture of a man earlier in the day, and the guy who'd just checked into room six could be that man's twin. Knight and Vetter had roused the unsuspecting Hardwick from his sleep.
Captain Reese watched the two arresting officers enter the interrogation room. The suspect didn't acknowledge their presence. He simply stared down at the finger that continued to rhythmically move across the surface of the table. The uniformed officer standing guard backed into a corner as the two detectives walked around to face Hardwick. Joe turned and left the observation room to join his people. He wanted to be a part of this interrogation.
"Mr. Hardwick, you know we'll hold you until the FBI can pick you up and take you back to the States. But we need to establish a thing or two before that happens. Where were you on the thirteenth of this month? Five days ago, around three PM?" The captain walked into the room as Knight spoke. He nodded a silent greeting to each of his employees as he took a spot next to the mirror through which he'd just observed the suspect. As with the first entrances, Hardwick didn't seem to notice him come into the room. He didn't appear to have heard the detective's question, either, as he continued to be fascinated with the movement of his finger. It was almost as if he were in a trance.
Knight walked around behind Hardwick. Captain Reese looked on as the irritation from the man's non-response shadowed the detective's face, a distasteful frown creasing his brow. He leaned down close to the seated man's ear. "I won't ask you again. Where were you on the afternoon of the thirteenth around three PM?" Nick's quiet voice was filled with such dark menace that it sent an uncomfortable chill down Joe's back.
The man at the table also appeared to be affected by the insistent tone, as he finally came out of his stupor. The movement of his finger stopped and he raised his gaze. It connected with the captain's, and Joe's heart all but froze in his chest. He was confronted by eyes that were stone cold, thoroughly lacking any kind of feeling. Vacant. Harsh. The sinister hardness spoke of a stark callousness the likes of which Reese had encountered only once or twice in all his years on the force. He felt the acid churn a fraction harder in his gut as he acknowledged its presence. The degree of brutality he observed in the eyes was rare, thank God. He hated seeing it again.
An unsettling shudder rushed through the captain as he suddenly recognized a single emotion in the cruel gaze. A wicked satisfaction lurked there, a baleful contentment that nauseated Reese as he became aware of it. This man had tortured and killed a little girl only days ago and he sat here now, gratified. It was nothing short of obscene. This was evil in its purest form. No one could convince Joe otherwise. There was no soul in the eyes that stared into his, just a vile emptiness. Even after everything he'd seen as a police officer, he was still confounded that 'things' like Hardwick existed.
The heartless glare moved from the captain to settle on Detective Vetter. Joe watched her meet the hard look, but noticed her cringe slightly as she too appeared to recognize the evil that stared back at her. The suspect finally spoke, his voice as devoid of feeling as his eyes and face. "I was here...in Toronto." Reese couldn't tell if the response was meant to be serious or annoying.
"Where in Toronto?" Knight asked, the subtle demand still coloring his tone. He moved around to place both palms on the end of the table as he leaned on it.
Hardwick's attention left Tracy and fell to Nick. Joe looked on as the two men's eyes clashed. Knight was looking into the same malignant void the captain had witnessed only a minute ago, but the detective didn't seem to be affected by what he saw there. Nick held the cold stare with one of his own and for a brief moment, Reese was more disturbed by what he saw in his own man's eyes than by what he'd seen in Hardwick's. The hard, unrelenting look held an understanding, a familiarity. It was almost as if Knight were looking at something with which he was well acquainted. As if what he saw didn't bother him, because he knew it so completely. He recognized the evil, comprehended it and therefore was not alarmed by it. For that one second, Nick looked as cold and unfeeling as the man seated at the table, and the sight sent a jolt of surprise through Joe. It was a side of Knight he'd never seen. This new facet was, to say the very least, unnerving.
The silent battle was won by Nick as Hardwick dropped his eyes back to the table. For the first time since he'd been brought in ranting and raving, Reese saw a glimmer of emotion flit across the suspect's face. Fear. Blatant, paralyzing fear. What he'd seen in Knight's face had obviously caught him off guard and given him a hefty shock. He fidgeted uneasily in his chair as he worked to recover his composure. He did so fairly quickly, and casually shrugged his shoulders before he spoke. "Where? Around. I don't know where for sure. Five days is a pretty long time. How should I remember where I was? Why does it matter anyway? Beside escaping from the morons in Illinois, what else am I supposed to have done?"
The captain couldn't help his exasperated sigh. This guy knew why he was being questioned. He'd been told twice already. He was jerking them around, and Reese wasn't in the mood. He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer to the table. He was having a difficult time keeping the anger in check as he shook a finger at the suspect, his voice rumbling with the volume of his irritation. "Look, you...." As the profanity hovered on his lips, he paused. Taking a deep breath, he tried to compose himself. He didn't want to lose it in front of his people, much less let this bastard know that he'd gotten to him. He lowered his hand as he continued, but he was still finding it extremely hard to squelch the anger. "You've done a damn sight more than escape!" He faltered. Easy, Joe. Take it easy. Taking another steadying breath, he proceeded. "Mr. Hardwick...you're a suspect in a murder investigation. This one has your name written all over it. You signed a waiver giving up any right to legal representation during these questions. Now, tell us where you were on the afternoon of the thirteenth."
Hardwick remained silent.
Shaking his head in frustration, the captain looked back at Knight. This wasn't getting them anywhere. Nick acknowledged the gesture with an understanding nod, and Joe felt himself relax a little. The detective looked familiar again. The chilling persona had disappeared. Reese felt relieved as he recognized the change and watched a much more normal Nick address the black-haired man seated at the table. "Okay. If five days is too far back for you to remember, how about two days ago? The sixteenth, around nine PM? Where were you then?"
The suspect's gaze moved back to the table as he silently shrugged, his eyes following the movement of the finger that had once again started to trace the unseen figure eight. Joe could see now why Hardwick had given up his right to an attorney. He wasn't going to tell them anything. He didn't need a lawyer for that. The captain's patience had just about reached its end as he watched a smug smile cross the demon's face.
Nick straightened from the table. It was easy to see that he too was becoming very annoyed with Hardwick, his dark expression a telling sign of his growing irritation. As he pushed his hands into the pockets of his pants, a nod of his head indicated the scratch marks on the back of the suspect's right hand. "Where did you get those?"
It was Reese's turn to smile smugly as Knight brought attention to the marks. Garrison Hardwick might not be talking, but when it came right down to it, they didn't really need him to say anything. The blood, skin and hair samples Natalie had taken from him after he'd signed the waiver would do all the talking they required. Joe was sure they had this guy dead to rights in the Huntsfield murder. They only had to wait for the lab results to come back. But it sure would be nice to hear a confession, no matter how unlikely that appeared.
The arrogant smile on Hardwick's face turned into a wicked grin as his eyes traveled back to Detective Vetter. She unhappily withstood the scrutiny while the icy gaze moved slowly down her body and then back up to rest on her face. Her frown spoke loudly of her unease and distaste, as did the tone of her voice when she repeated Nick's inquiry. "The scratch marks, Hardwick. Where did you get the scratches?"
His eyes fell to his hand, its slow movement continuing. The grin widened. "From...someone...who...gave me just what I wanted, just what I needed."
"Who?!" Reese joined Nick at the end of the table. He'd had about all he could take of this insolent, sick bastard. When he got no response, he motioned toward the uniformed officer, his incensed gaze still focused on Hardwick. "Get him outta here. He's not gonna to tell us anything. But...there's one thing I will tell you, Hardwick. Your evil won't destroy anyone else. Not if I have anything to do about it. You're done, through, finished. You understand that? Your depraved influence ends here."
"That's where you're wrong, Captain." Frozen, hazel eyes looked up at Joe. Hardwick's grin had vanished, his features now stern and serious. Reese was once again face to face with the harsh malignancy that was this man, and another chill shot over him as the suspect continued. "What is this?" Hardwick's eyes dropped for a moment to indicate the movement his finger still made on the table surface.
Nick, Tracy and the captain all glanced at the motion. Joe shrugged his shoulders. "It's the figure eight. So what?" He wasn't going to play games with this guy, but maybe the son-of-a-bitch would let something slip if he continued to talk.
The finger stilled as Hardwick slowly shook his head. "Maybe from where you are. But from where I am, it's infinity. You see, Captain, I'm not 'finished'. You can't stop me. You can't get rid of me. I go on forever. My so-called 'evil' will be here long after you're gone. It's infinite. It never ends. It has a life of its own, a power of its own. You can't destroy it or me." His focus moved from Joe to Nick. As he continued his rant, his voice became louder and strained with insistence. "You understand that, don't you, Detective? I've seen it in your eyes. It's a part of you too. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Maybe better than I do."
It was back. The same wild gleam that had been in Hardwick's eyes earlier as Knight wrestled him into the holding cell. Joe could feel the tension beginning to build. This guy was close to losing his grip again.
"Get him the hell outta here!" Reese commanded again. He didn't want to hear any more of this depraved nonsense. He also didn't want the suspect to completely lose it before they could get him back into a cell. The uniformed officer pulled Hardwick from the chair and quickly put the cuffs back on him.
But Garrison Hardwick wasn't finished yet. He refused to move, his frenzied stare still locked on Nick as he insisted. "Tell them, Detective! Tell these fools what they're up against! You know! You understand! Tell them! Ours is a power that can never be destroyed! Eternity is our destiny! Their paltry resolve can't stop us!"
Joe pulled the door open and yelled, "We need some help in here! Now!"
Two more uniforms rushed into the room and helped escort the suspect out. Hardwick continued his inane rambling as they pushed him into the bullpen. "Tell them, Detective! They can never do away with us! Our life-force is everlasting! We are much too strong!"
The door to the interrogation room banged shut, muffling the loud, hysterical voice on the other side. Joe turned to Knight. The detective stood staring at the now empty chair. If it were at all possible, he seemed to have grown even more pale than was normal. Hardwick's irrational words appeared to be having a strong effect on him. The frown on his face held the shadow of a painful confusion. Nick didn't usually let the things suspects spat out get to him. Reese wondered at the influence of these particular words as he kind-heartedly slapped his best detective on the back. "Nick? Nick, don't let that guy get to ya. He's spouting a bunch of junk. You know how some of these perps get."
"Yeah, Nick." Tracy added her encouragement. "The guy's a real sicko. He doesn't know what he's talkin' about. A person's evil living forever...what a load a crap. He's a nut."
As Joe smiled his thanks to Detective Vetter for her support, he thought he saw something flash across her face. Guilt? As if she didn't completely buy into what she was saying. No. He'd probably just misunderstood the expression. Of course she believed what she'd said. It was the truth. Hardwick's words were a lot of silly bull.
Knight raised his troubled eyes to Tracy and then the captain. A stiff smile tugged at his mouth as he nodded. "Yeah, I know. Crazy." He didn't sound too convinced.
"Exactly. Crazy," Reese reiterated as he tried to reassure Nick. He glanced at his watch. There were still a few hours remaining in the shift. The detectives should be able to get Hardwick's arrest report on his desk before they left for the day. He looked from one partner to the other. "I'll expect the report before you two book off." He turned to leave, but as he got to the door, he looked back at the team. "Excellent job, people. Getting that beast off the streets should make both of you feel very good. I know I'll sleep a little better today."
"Thanks, Cap. I have to say I feel pretty accomplished tonight." Tracy smiled. She playfully nudged her partner on the arm. "Definitely not helpless, eh, Nick?"
Joe was certain there was some deeper significance to the young woman's choice of words than what he understood. Something shared between the two partners. He was again encouraged by the growing closeness the private meaning indicated.
Knight looked over at Vetter, his forced smile becoming warm and genuine as some of the strain left his face. "Definitely."
Reese shut the interrogation room door behind him. He stood for a moment scanning the bustling squad room, a pleased smile on his face. They got him. He had a good group of people working for him, and they'd gotten a child killer off the street. Boy, he felt good. Sometimes he didn't mind this job at all. Not at all.
He headed for the water cooler. He felt so good, in fact, that he even thought he had a chance of getting a drink from the uncooperative contraption.
End Chapter 9