They knew that as well. Quentin looked arrogant, but there was no threat of violence in his demeanor, and he had had no history of it in prison or before that they knew of. Luke was said to be a peace-loving man, but would meet the challenge if attacked. He had been stabbed once, when trying to break up a fight between two rival gangs, but he had had no known gang associations and kept to himself.

Quentin was known to be a jogger in prison. He ran track, and jogged daily in the yard. And he had continued running once he got out. They had watched him in parks several times, and it was often where the victims were found, but they still couldn’t tie him to them. There were no witnesses to the crimes. The fact that he had run in the same park didn’t mean that they had died at his hands. There hadn’t been a single drop of sperm in any of the women, which meant that he had used a condom or had a disability of some kind, which maybe led him to rape. He was brilliant at what he did, if it was him.

Quentin was arrogant, but not a braggart. He waited for their questions and offered nothing else. He met their eyes, and from time to time glanced at the window where Alexa watched with a serious expression. Without realizing it, she had smoked half a dozen cigarettes by then.

“You know I didn’t do it,” Quentin said after a while, looking straight at Jack and laughing at him. His eyes had drifted past Charlie, dismissing him with a glance. “You guys just need someone to pin it on, to make you look good. You’re playing to the press.”

Jack decided to dispense with the amenities, as he met Quentin’s eyes. There was nothing there, neither guilt nor fear, nor even concern. The only thing he saw there was contempt. Luke was laughing at them, and thought they were fools. He hadn’t even broken a sweat, which suspects often did. The lights were hot. All the cops in the room were perspiring profusely, while Quentin looked cool. But they were wearing street clothes and bulletproof vests, he was in a thin jumpsuit, and totally at ease.