Free Finishing School by Max Allan Collins Page B

command.
    â€˜â€˜Nice job,’’ Morgan said with a relieved grin.
    â€˜â€˜Yeah, thanks,’’ Prentiss said. ‘‘Next time, I’ll take the front.’’
    The squatting Morgan cuffed the suspect’s hands behind him. ‘‘You’re William Kwitcher?’’
    Still on his stomach, the suspect swallowed and said, ‘‘Yeah.’’
    Morgan tapped him on the head, just a tiny but unmistakable thump. ‘‘Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to run away from a federal officer?’’
    As they helped the suspect to his feet, Garue read Kwitcher his rights. They led him to Garue’s Durango and put him in back. The detective would drive him to the law enforcement center with Morgan and Prentiss trailing.
    Fifteen minutes later, they brought Kwitcher in through the LEC’s back door. Hotchner, Rossi, and Reid were waiting for them—JJ was in a meeting with the Bemidji police chief.
    Kwitcher was deposited in an interview room. Prentiss, Morgan, and Garue watched from the observation booth as Rossi came in to interrogate Kwitcher.
    The skinny man, his hands cuffed through a loop in the table, sat disconsolately, head bowed as Rossi stared him down.
    Finally, Rossi took the seat opposite and said, ‘‘William R. Kwitcher?’’
    Kwitcher looked up.
    â€˜â€˜Or maybe I should say William K. Rohl?’’
    â€˜â€˜Aw, shit,’’ Rohl mumbled, shook his head, then looked down again.
    â€˜â€˜I’ll just make it ‘Billy,’ if you don’t mind. Because you’re one rose that by any name is not smelling sweet.’’
    The suspect lifted his eyes and gave Rossi a sulky look. ‘‘I didn’t do anything. I found a body and we reported it. Like good citizens. So why am I in trouble?’’
    â€˜â€˜I wonder.’’ Rossi flashed a grin that had no amusement in it whatsoever. ‘‘Maybe it’s because you’re a registered sex offender in Arkansas, who moved away without notifying the state. Maybe it’s because you’re living in Minnesota where you, a sex offender, have not registered.’’
    Rohl found a blemish on the table that seemed to him very interesting and studied it intently.
    â€˜â€˜Billy, you had sex with two fourteen-year-old blonde girls.’’
    â€˜â€˜They were willing. I didn’t know they was underage. How are you supposed to tell these days? You seen how they dress, how they act.’’
    Rossi ignored that. ‘‘Now you turn up at a deer stand overlooking the graves of three blonde girls of about the same age as your previous victims. Coincidence?’’
    â€˜â€˜Those two girls weren’t no victims,’’ Rohl said indignantly. ‘‘That them girls buried out there was young and blonde, well . . . you’re right. It’s a coincidence.’’
    Shaking his head, Rossi said, ‘‘Do you believe in God, Billy?’’
    â€˜â€˜Sure I do.’’
    â€˜â€˜So do I. But I’m an atheist about one thing.’’
    â€˜â€˜Huh?’’
    â€˜â€˜I don’t believe in coincidence.’’
    The suspect swallowed, shook his head. His eyes finally stopped avoiding Rossi’s. ‘‘How can I prove to you I didn’t do this thing?’’
    Rossi shrugged. ‘‘Gonna be tough. You do match the profile.’’
    â€˜â€˜Profile?’’
    With a gesture to himself, Rossi said, ‘‘That’s why the FBI is in town. We’re profiling the killer . . . which, I’m afraid to say, is starting to look a whole lot like you.’’
    Rohl’s eyes flared. ‘‘I didn’t do shit , I tell ya!’’
    Ignoring that, Rossi said, ‘‘The first thing we know for sure about the perpetrator is that he’s a pedophile.’’
    â€˜â€˜Don’t you call me