touch for a while. A few years, actually. Until you finished your PhD. I went to the ceremony, remember?’
Hunter nodded once.
‘I thought that maybe she had kept in touch with you.’ Lucien shrugged. ‘Everyone knew that Susan was into you.’
Hunter said nothing.
Lucien gave Hunter a friendly smile. ‘I know that you never got together with her because you knew that I really liked her.
‘That was very cool of you. Very . . . considerate, but I don’t think I would’ve minded. The two of you probably would’ve made a very nice couple.’
Lucien’s eyes avoided Hunter’s for a second.
‘Do you remember when we went with her to that tattoo parlor because she wanted to get that horrible thing on her arm?’ he asked.
Hunter did remember it. Susan had decided to get a tattoo of a red rose, where its stem, full of thorns, was wrapped around a bleeding heart, giving the impression that it was strangling it.
‘I do remember it,’ Hunter said with a melancholic smile.
‘What the hell was that? A rose strangling a heart?’
‘I liked that tattoo,’ Hunter said. ‘It was different, and I’m sure it meant something to her. I thought it looked very good on her arm. The tattoo artist did a great job.’
Lucien pulled a face. ‘I don’t really like tattoos. Never did.’ He paused and his eyes moved to a random spot on the cinder-block wall. ‘I miss her. She could always make us laugh, even in the worst of situations.’
‘Yes, I miss her too,’ Hunter said.
Silence took over the room for several seconds. Hunter filled a paper cup with water from the cooler and placed it on the table in front of Lucien.
‘Thank you,’ he said, taking a quick sip.
Hunter poured himself one as well.
‘They’ve got the wrong man, Robert,’ Lucien finally said.
Hunter paused and looked back at his old friend. It sounded like Lucien’s nerves were finally starting to settle, and he was now ready to talk. Hunter questioned with his eyes.
‘I didn’t do it,’ Lucien said, his voice full of emotion again. ‘I didn’t do what they’re saying I did. You have to believe me, Robert. I’m not a monster. I didn’t do those things.’
Hunter stayed quiet.
‘But I know who did.’
Fifteen
Behind the large two-way mirror, inside the observation room next door, Special Agents Taylor and Newman were attentively watching every movement made and listening to every word spoken by Lucien Folter. Doctor Patrick Lambert, a forensic psychiatrist with the FBI Behavioral Science Unit was also present.
On a table by the east wall, two CCTV monitors were showing highly detailed images of Lucien taken from different angles. Doctor Lambert was patiently examining every facial movement, and scrutinizing every different voice inflection the prisoner produced, but that wasn’t all. Both monitors were also hooked up to a computer equipped with state-of-the-art facial analysis software, which was capable of reading and evaluating the most minuscule of facial or eye movements. Movements that could not be controlled by the interviewee, triggered subconsciously as his state of mind altered from calm to nervous, to anxious, to irritated, to angry, or to any other state. Inside that observation room, they were all sure that if Lucien Folter lied about anything at all, they would know.
Neither Doctor Lambert, nor Special Agents Taylor and Newman, needed the facial analysis program to pick up all the anxiety and nervousness in Lucien’s tone of voice, eye movement and facial expressions. That was something they were already expecting. After all, he was talking for the first time since he’d been arrested for a very brutal double homicide. Add to that the fact that he was now face to face with an old friend he hadn’t seen since his college days, and Lucien was bound to be nervous and anxious. It was a common psychological human reaction. As was the initial avoidance of the subject. Talking about something common to him and his old
Hunter nodded once.
‘I thought that maybe she had kept in touch with you.’ Lucien shrugged. ‘Everyone knew that Susan was into you.’
Hunter said nothing.
Lucien gave Hunter a friendly smile. ‘I know that you never got together with her because you knew that I really liked her.
‘That was very cool of you. Very . . . considerate, but I don’t think I would’ve minded. The two of you probably would’ve made a very nice couple.’
Lucien’s eyes avoided Hunter’s for a second.
‘Do you remember when we went with her to that tattoo parlor because she wanted to get that horrible thing on her arm?’ he asked.
Hunter did remember it. Susan had decided to get a tattoo of a red rose, where its stem, full of thorns, was wrapped around a bleeding heart, giving the impression that it was strangling it.
‘I do remember it,’ Hunter said with a melancholic smile.
‘What the hell was that? A rose strangling a heart?’
‘I liked that tattoo,’ Hunter said. ‘It was different, and I’m sure it meant something to her. I thought it looked very good on her arm. The tattoo artist did a great job.’
Lucien pulled a face. ‘I don’t really like tattoos. Never did.’ He paused and his eyes moved to a random spot on the cinder-block wall. ‘I miss her. She could always make us laugh, even in the worst of situations.’
‘Yes, I miss her too,’ Hunter said.
Silence took over the room for several seconds. Hunter filled a paper cup with water from the cooler and placed it on the table in front of Lucien.
‘Thank you,’ he said, taking a quick sip.
Hunter poured himself one as well.
‘They’ve got the wrong man, Robert,’ Lucien finally said.
Hunter paused and looked back at his old friend. It sounded like Lucien’s nerves were finally starting to settle, and he was now ready to talk. Hunter questioned with his eyes.
‘I didn’t do it,’ Lucien said, his voice full of emotion again. ‘I didn’t do what they’re saying I did. You have to believe me, Robert. I’m not a monster. I didn’t do those things.’
Hunter stayed quiet.
‘But I know who did.’
Fifteen
Behind the large two-way mirror, inside the observation room next door, Special Agents Taylor and Newman were attentively watching every movement made and listening to every word spoken by Lucien Folter. Doctor Patrick Lambert, a forensic psychiatrist with the FBI Behavioral Science Unit was also present.
On a table by the east wall, two CCTV monitors were showing highly detailed images of Lucien taken from different angles. Doctor Lambert was patiently examining every facial movement, and scrutinizing every different voice inflection the prisoner produced, but that wasn’t all. Both monitors were also hooked up to a computer equipped with state-of-the-art facial analysis software, which was capable of reading and evaluating the most minuscule of facial or eye movements. Movements that could not be controlled by the interviewee, triggered subconsciously as his state of mind altered from calm to nervous, to anxious, to irritated, to angry, or to any other state. Inside that observation room, they were all sure that if Lucien Folter lied about anything at all, they would know.
Neither Doctor Lambert, nor Special Agents Taylor and Newman, needed the facial analysis program to pick up all the anxiety and nervousness in Lucien’s tone of voice, eye movement and facial expressions. That was something they were already expecting. After all, he was talking for the first time since he’d been arrested for a very brutal double homicide. Add to that the fact that he was now face to face with an old friend he hadn’t seen since his college days, and Lucien was bound to be nervous and anxious. It was a common psychological human reaction. As was the initial avoidance of the subject. Talking about something common to him and his old