The interrogation room at the FBI field office in Lower Manhattan was colder than the holding cell at MDC had been. Gray walls, tal table bolted to the floor, one-way mirror reflecting Keenan’s calm face back at him. His wrists were cuffed to a chain looped through the table ring, standard for suspected homicide but he sat like he was waiting for a business eting, shoulders relaxed, expression almost bored.
Special Agent Hale sat across from him, file open, photos spread out like playing cards.
Keenan hadn’t said more than six words since they brought him in:
"I need to speak to my lawyer."
Hale leaned forward. "Mr. Dane, we’re not playing gas. Your silk ascot, custom monogram, your DNA on the fibers was tied around the severed torso of Amanda Reynolds. Found in a public dumpster two blocks from your building. CCTV shows her entering your car at 6:47 p.m. the night she disappeared. She never left it on cara."
Keenan stared at the photo of the ascot, flecks of blood on it then lifted his eyes to Hale’s.
"I want my lawyer."
Hale exhaled through his nose. "You’re looking at first-degree murder, dismbernt, tampering with evidence. Preditated. The U.S. Attorney is already drafting the indictnt. You really want to sit here silent while we build this without your side?"
Keenan smiled, small, polite, empty.
"I want my lawyer."
The door opened.
Caleb Walker, his lawyer, walked in. He set his briefcase down calmly, placed a hand on Keenan’s shoulder, and looked at Hale.
"My client is invoking his Fifth Andnt right. This interview is over."
Caleb didn’t move. "He’s not walking out tonight. We have probable cause for murder. No bail hearing until tomorrow morning at the earliest, and given the flight risk..."
Caleb cut in smoothly. "We’ll see what the magistrate says. For now, uncuff him and let us speak privately."
Hale stared at Keenan a beat longer, then nodded to the agent by the door.
The cuffs ca off.
Caleb waited until the door closed behind Hale and the other agents.
Then he turned to Keenan, voice low.
"This is bad. Really bad. The ascot is yours, DNA match is 99.9999%. CCTV puts Amanda in your car. No footage of her leaving. The torso and various ones were found less than two miles from your building. They have enough for an indictnt today. Murder one, abuse of a corpse, obstruction. They’ll push for no bail, high-profile victim, extre violence, wealth and private resources an flight risk."
Keenan rubbed his wrists. "They have nothing tying to the actual killing."
"They don’t need the body to prove murder," Michael said. "They have the torso, your DNA on the ligature you used to tie it, and her last known location was your vehicle. That’s circumstantial, but it’s strong circumstantial. Juries convict on less."
Keenan leaned back. "Then get bail."
Caleb shook his head. "Not tonight. The magistrate won’t hear it until morning. And even then... they’ll argue danger to the community. Dismbernt cases rarely get bail, especially when the killer is still at large in the public’s mind."
Keenan was quiet for a mont.
Then he looked at Caleb.
"I need to make a call."
Elias frowned. "To who?"
Keenan’s smile returned, slow and dangerous.
"To soone who owes silence."
Caleb stared at him.
Then he pulled out his own phone, a burner phone and slid it across the table.
"Five minutes. No nas. No details."
Keenan took it.
Dialed.
The line rang once.
Picked up.
Silence on the other end.
Keenan spoke first, voice low and venomous.
"You bastard. If I go down, you go down with . Don’t forget I know everything about you. I know who K.N really is. I’ll let it slip...."
Laughter cut him off.
Soft. Feminine. Cold.
Keenan froze.
The voice that ca through was calm, almost sweet.
"You’re assuming Kieran is the one holding the phone, Mr. Dane."
Genesis.
Keenan’s grip tightened on the device.
Genesis continued, her voice soft and sweet.
"I’ve been expecting your call,"
"You little cunt, give the phone to that bastard,"
Genesis continued, "You sent a hitman to kill my friend’s baby. You cut Amanda into pieces and mailed her to my doorstep like a gift. You tried to take . And now you’re sitting in a federal interrogation room, cuffed to a table, thinking you can threaten my husband?"
A pause.
Then she laughed again, sounding so delighted.
"You’re finished. All this? That’s not even the half of it. We’ve got more. Much more. I assure you Mr Dane, you won’t see daylight again."
Keenan’s smile vanished.
Genesis’s voice dropped to a whisper.
"Tell your lawyer to plead. Because if you fight this... I’ll make sure every single thing you’ve ever done ends up in open court. Everybody. Every tape. Every secret. Including the ones you think are buried deepest."
Silence.
Then she added, almost sweetly:
"Rot in hell, Keenan."
Click.
The line went dead.
Keenan stared at the phone.
For the first ti in years maybe ever sothing close to fear flickered behind his eyes.
Caleb watched him.
"Everything okay?"
Keenan slowly handed the phone back.
Then he leaned forward, elbows on the table, then he looked toward the one-way mirror.
And sowhere on the other side, he knew she was watching.
Genesis Caldwell-Blackwood.
The mute girl who learned to speak.
The woman who just put him in a cage.
And for the first ti, Keenan Dane realized:
The ga wasn’t ever his.
It never had been.
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