“My name is Kelly Moore. My husband was Corrections Officer Stuart Moore, who was brutally murdered four days ago by the man who calls himself Alkaline.” She looks down at her sneakers. “My husband worked at Xavier for over five years. He was a good man. He was active in AA, sponsoring three people. He coached our youngest son’s Little League. He provided for me, for our children, and kept this city safe by watching over criminals like Alkaline. He’s dead because of it.” She gazes at me, hate brimming through the tears. “And the Galilee police department, instead of searching this city for my husband’s killer like they have promised numerous times, is instead wasting their time and the taxpayer’s money slandering my husband’s good name.” Her gaze returns to the salivating journalists. “My husband died protecting all of you. He’s a hero. He did nothing wrong.”
She walks away, the reporters shouting questions which she ignores. Cam and Kowalski both give me a pitying look before they follow her. A few reporters chase after her, but the rest stay, unleashing their questions on me.
“Is Stuart Moore a suspect?”
“How long has he been a suspect?”
“What evidence have you found to link him to the escape?”
“Are any of the other C.O.’s involved?”
A cacophony of the same question phrased differently assaults me. V’s mouth moves, but I can’t hear her over the others. I hesitate, the wheels in my head turning. I have no idea what to say, what they would want me to say. Probably nothing, but I’m trapped.
“One at a time,” I shout. I point to the WHEN reporter, an intern judging by her age. “You.”
“Is Stuart Moore a suspect?”
“At this time, he is a person of interest. Veronica?”
“Why is he a person of interest?”
“Through the course of our investigation, we discovered a large sum of money in one of Mr. Moore’s accounts. How it came to be in there has yet to be determined.”
“Do you think he was murdered to silence him?” another reporter asks.
“We will have to ask James Ryder that when we arrest him.”
“And you’re still confident you will find him?”
“I stand by my promise to this city. We are doing everything in our power to find him.”
“What about reports that Alkaline had a shrine to Justice? Can you substantiate those claims?”
I glance at V who takes notes. “I would not use the word ‘shrine,’ but yes he did have multiple news clippings on Justice. What that means, once again, we will ask Ryder when we apprehend him. And we will.”
“It’s been four days. Only one arrest has been made. Are you sure he is still even in the city?”
“No, but no matter where he is, we will find him. If it takes years, if he’s on the moon, we will find him and drag his butt back here to face justice for the heinous crimes he has committed, including the death of Stuart Moore,” I say passionately. “Whether he was complicit in the escape or not, he is still a victim. He and his family deserve justice. We will get it for them, of that I have no doubt. James Ryder will not win. He cannot win. You have my personal guarantee that he will not.”
“Have you found any evidence as to what he might have planned?” V asks. “Potential victims, if any? If he is in the city, could it have something to do with Justice and his obsession?”
“We have uncovered no evidence that Ryder’s plans extended beyond his escape. But once again, if he does, we will stop him. We did once, we will do it again. That’s all for today. Thank you.”
I spin around as the reporters shout more questions that I won’t answer. Harry waits outside his office, arms folded, none too thrilled with me. He doesn’t have to say a word. I walk straight into his office, sitting myself in the naughty chair. He shuts the door.
“What the hell was that?” he asks.
“I couldn’t stop her. I was just as surprised as you were.”
He sits at his desk. “You should have shut it down the moment you saw her.”
“How? Tackle the widow of a murder victim?”
“We’re going to be back in the spotlight now, you know that right? They’ll be hounding Moore, rooting around in his background.”
“I know! But Harry, what the hell could I have done? Tell me! Because, under the circumstances, I think I did a pretty damn good job turning things around.”
He shakes his head. “The mayor’s pissed.”
“So what else is new?” I mutter.
“You’re off press duty.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“You’re also in tip duty today, and you’re not allowed to even look at a reporter, let alone talk to one. That includes your cousin.”