Stolen cars, probably. And then we come to West Virginia.” She turned the page.

“A gun dealer, Mike Donohue, was murdered in West Virginia. The police report

said that a knife had been driven through his chest with such force that it had

pinned him to the wall of his trailer. An astonishing feat of strength. Donohue

was a large man with a deep, thick torso.” She reached over to a table and

picked up the M11-B. “And this was the only thing the police could find that was

missing from Donohue’s truck. I take it you were going to hold it against my

head, as I did you that one time. Revolver versus semiautomatic. You obviously

didn’t want to leave my death to the whims of chance.” Rogers said nothing. He

just stared at the ceiling.

 

She put the gun down and turned back to her notebook. “The one thing that truly

disturbed me, Paul, had to do with the boy. Donohue’s son, Will.” “I didn’t kill

him.” “That’s what disturbs me.” With a roar of rage Rogers managed to flip

himself off the table.

 

He landed at her feet but couldn’t move an inch after that.

 

She stared down at him. “Now what did that accomplish? Really?” She pulled a

phone from her pocket, made a call, and four men arrived. They lifted Rogers

back onto the gurney and this time strapped him down. With a wave of her hand

she dismissed them and they were alone once more. “Are you able to have a civil

conversation now?” “What the fuck do you want with me?” “I already told you.

Testing. I can’t stress enough how critical this is.” “Why? You’re not building