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Avalon did. “LeBlanc’s was one of the bars that Everett specifically mentioned to me when I was here last. Perhaps he believes Beau is the one who, uh, wrapped him up for the police and Everett wanted some vengeance. Seeing his reaction to Beau’s presence should be quite telling.”
The DA took a step toward him. “Did you do it?” he demanded.
Beau let his eyes widen. “Do what?”
“Knock out Everett Thomas and leave him for the cops to find?”
“Why in the world would I do something like that?” Because the prick needed to be stopped before he hurt someone else? Because Everett Thomas is a freak who should never see the light of day? Because the cops were going to let him slip through their fingers? Beau shook his head. “Just doesn’t seem like something that would interest me. I already have plenty of hobbies. Getting into the gift-wrapping business holds no appeal for me.”
The door opened. The prisoner shuffled in. His wrists and his ankles were manacled. His gaze immediately went to Avalon as she sat with her back perfectly straight at the table.
A flash of hunger filled his eyes.
Oh, the hell, no. Beau stiffened.
A wide smile curved Everett’s lips. That smile froze when his gaze drifted and landed on Beau.
Beau sent him a very grim smile of his own. “Hello, there, Slasher.”
Everett swallowed. He also backed up a step and almost hit the guard who’d followed him inside. Three guards in the room now.
“What’s happening here?” Everett’s voice cracked in the middle of the question.
Douglas advanced toward him. “An additional Q&A session. We can certainly have your lawyer present, but the last time you spoke with Avalon, you waived?—”
“I only want to talk to her!” His nostrils flared. The orange prison jumper made his pale skin look all the more garish under the light. “No one else.” He lifted his cuffed hands—as much as they would lift because a thin chain connected the cuffs around his wrists to the manacles around his ankles—and he pointed toward Beau. “Not him! He needs to get the hell out!”
Beau kept his smile in place. He was not going anywhere.
“We’re a package deal,” Avalon informed Everett crisply. “Where I go, he goes. And vice versa. So if you want to have another chat with me, you’ll do it with him watching.”
Douglas moved to stand in front of Everett. The DA completely blocked the other man from Beau’s line of sight. “There a reason you’re afraid of Beau LeBlanc?” Douglas asked the prisoner.
Beau couldn’t see Everett, but he could hear the man’s ragged breathing.
Avalon turned her head. She peered at Beau. Quirked one brow. That little quirk clearly asked, So, what’s this about?
He shrugged. How was he supposed to know why serial killers acted crazy? Wasn’t that more her thing?
“You obviously know him, Everett,” Douglas’s voice held heavy suspicion. “How do you know Beau?”
“He came to my bar a few times,” Beau responded as he kept his voice low. Almost lazy. He allowed his drawl to thicken a bit as he added, “Liked to have a good time at my place, didn’t you? Everyone loves LeBlanc’s. But, I’m afraid I’ve got some unfortunate news for you on that score. Some asshole torched my bar last night.” He took a step to the side as he delivered that news. The better to see Everett’s reaction.
And Everett—the prick—his eyes lit with delight. A flash that was quickly extinguished. But not quickly enough.
The sonofabitch knows something about the fire.
“I do hope no one was hurt,” Everett murmured. “Fires. Never liked them much. Have you seen what they can do to a human body?” He shuffled forward a half-step. The manacles clanked. “The scars they leave behind on those who survive their kiss—those scars are hideous. Twisted. Red. So rough. Never to be smoothed away. Never to fade. The fire touches you, and it claims you.” He dipped his head toward Douglas. “I will sit for the Q&A. After all, it would be horribly rude to leave. Especially when Avalon wants to write my story so badly.”
One of the guards pulled out the chair that was opposite of Avalon. The guard secured Everett into the seat. Locked the chain that connected his bound hands and feet to a hook on the floor. Everett frowned briefly, but when the guard moved back, the furrow along his brow and the faint lines near his mouth smoothed away. “I knew you would be back,” he told her with a pleased nod. “Decided to help me prove my innocence, didn’t you? I certainly appreciate your assistance. With so many people on the outside calling me a monster, it’s good to know that you believe in me.”
She straightened the papers on the table. Then her hands dropped to her lap. Her hands fisted.
Sweetheart…
“I can’t prove something that isn’t possible, Everett. As I said at our last talk, I happen to believe you’re guilty as sin. Add me to the list of individuals who think you’re a monster.”
Everett threw back his head and laughed. The sound seemed to grate as it echoed in the room.
