The Blackout Girl ✔️

chapter thirty-three

"Do you want me to break down, Agent?" she said, mocking him.

He remained impassive.

"I'm not gonna cry for you and beg you to let me go. I'm not a damsel. I'm not some bitch who's gonna roll over for you and jump through whatever hoops you set up for me. I see that you've made up your mind, and nothing I do is gonna change that," she said.

"Did you kill them, Ms. Robinson?" Price pressed.

"No," she told him, like the fuse inside her was growing shorter and shorter by the moment.

"I think you did," he went on.

Nolan knew what Price was doing. He recognized how volatile Delaney was, and he was doing whatever was necessary to push her buttons. If he could get her to break, he could get her to explode, and that was exactly what they were looking for.

The woman they were looking for was violent, easily set off. When she got angry, she got malicious. Price wanted to prove that Delaney fit that description.

"How did it feel when you stabbed Quinton for the first time?" Price asked. "I bet he couldn't believe it. He probably gasped for breath and pleaded for his life, but you had no mercy. No, you killed him, and then you cut out his eyes so he wouldn't look at you anymore."

"I didn't kill Quinton," she insisted, her skin growing clammy.

"Bullshit."

"It's true."

"No, it's not. Deep down, you're ashamed. He's the one kill you feel remorse over. The other men, they deserved it, right? Is that why you sawed off their genitals? Huh?"

She stared at him, hateful daggers in her irises. "You're a sick bastard."

"And you're a serial killer," he shot back.

Her nostrils flared. "I'm not."

Price slid a pad of paper across the table, clicking his pen. "You know, if you sign a confession now, we can reduce your sentence. We can make a deal and keep you off death row."

"I don't need a deal," she spat.

"Do you think a jury will feel the same way?" he challenged. "I don't know about you, but five brutal homicides doesn't get anything less than life behind bars. And when we talk about this level of overkill, against a member of your family no less, people want justice. Do you want to live, Ms. Robinson? Because they'll put you down like the animal you are—"

She threw the notepad across the room as hard as she could, thrashing as she pulled at her handcuffs. "I'll kill you! I'll slit your gullet right here and now! You want a killer? Fine, I'll be one! I'll kill you! I swear I'll kill you!"

Unwittingly, she'd given Price exactly what he was looking for. The woman Nolan had first arrested, who walked into the funeral parlor timidly, was somewhere far from there. In her place was an unhinged monster, who had enough fury inside her to fuel something awful if she were set free.

This was a person who could murder five men, mutilate their remains, and feel no guilt, no shame.

"You son of a bitch!" she shouted. "You fucked-up son of a bitch!"

Price cleared his throat, showing no fear as he watched her struggle. "Are you done yet?"

Her face grew red, and despite the hopelessness of her attempts, she still fought. "Go to hell."

He leaned in a little closer, his face paling with barely contained anger. "There goes your deal."

She drew in a mouthful of saliva and spit it at him. He swallowed hard, stare glazing over.