“I drove home and cleaned up and got rid of my bloody clothes. Nobody heard me. My brain started flying this way and that. I didn’t know what I was going to do when it would be time to go back to the distribution center and pick up my parcel delivery truck. I knew Deputy Lewis was lying in the back of the truck and he was dead.” Brakey fell silent. He lowered his face in his hands and sobbed. “That man, Dalco, he said it would all be a dream, but he lied. It wasn’t. I killed Deputy Lewis.” He raised his face, wet with tears, and looked at them blindly. “I must have dozed off, because the next morning when the alarm went off, I drove to work and delivered the OTRs to the Reineke post office. I had no idea he was in one of them. I had no memory of any of it.”

Savich leaned in close. “I want you to listen to me now, Brakey, and believe me. It’s Stefan Dalco who’s the monster, not you. He’s responsible for killing Deputy Lewis, not you.”

Brakey was shaking his head back and forth. “I don’t want to kill anyone else, I don’t. What if he comes back again? What if he comes back tonight?”

You won’t stand a chance. Savich knew if Brakey went home remembering Dalco and his dream, remembering he’d stabbed Deputy Lewis, it would be all over Plackett in a flash and Dalco would act. Dalco had to be close to Brakey, close enough for him to put an Athame in Brakey’s car. He’d be putting Brakey in imminent danger. Savich made a decision. He leaned close to Dr. Hicks and spoke.

Dr. Hicks gave him an I-hope-you-know-what-you’re-doing look and said in his calm voice, “When you wake up, Brakey, you will not remember being hypnotized, you will not remember anything you said to us. You will remember only what you already knew when you came here this morning. You will not be frightened. When you wake up, you’ll do exactly what Agent Savich tells you to do. Do you understand me, Brakey? Good. I want you to wake up now.”

Brakey blinked, looked from Dr. Hicks to Savich, then to Griffin. “I’m ready for you to hypnotize me. Why are we waiting? Is someone else coming?”

“Listen to me, Brakey,” Savich said. “Sometimes hypnosis doesn’t work. But you don’t need to worry, we won’t arrest you. You are obviously trying to help us. If there’s anything else you want to tell us, or anything unusual happens to you, call me.” Savich wrote his cell number on a card and put it in Brakey’s pocket.

“Okay, I can do that. Wow, you couldn’t even hypnotize me.” Brakey’s face fell. “But we still don’t know what happened. I’m guilty of killing Deputy Lewis, you said, I’ve got to be. Why aren’t you going to arrest me?”

“Because you’re helping us, Brakey. You will have to wear an ankle monitor, though. It’s for your safety.”

Brakey blinked at him. “For my safety? It’s so you’ll know where I am all the time, isn’t it?”

“Both,” Savich said. “We need to know where you’ve been, if you don’t remember again. Agent Hammersmith will take you home once we get it fitted. I suggest you don’t say anything about our meeting here at Quantico to anyone in Plackett. As for your family, feel free to tell them you can’t be hypnotized.” He paused, then, “Brakey, can you tell us if Deputy Lewis ever busted Sparky Carroll for any reason?”

“Sparky? No, Spark’s a straight arrow, always has been. I mean, the guy cooked, Agent Savich.”

“So far as you know, Sparky was never drinking at The Gulf when Deputy Lewis was there?”

“No, it was Sparky’s dad who drank—Milt Carroll. He started drinking all the time after his wife died of cancer. He was at The Gulf a lot. Milt could still cook like a dream, didn’t matter if he was roaring drunk. But Sparky only drank now and then, usually beer. He stopped that after his dad died of cirrhosis a few months ago. He was a really good guy. A lot of us are really going to miss him.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Savich said.

Brakey’s face went blank. “Walter fixed Sparky’s first car, an old Chevy his father gave him, when he was in ninth grade. By the time Walter was fourteen, he could fix anything on wheels. That’s what Walter does now, too, and he gets paid more than I do working for the distribution center.”

Griffin asked him, “So Walter and Sparky were always friends? No falling-out of any kind?”

“Never. They drag-raced all through high school, out on Old Pond Road, hooting and hollering. Walter stabbing Sparky in that office building, Agent Savich. I just don’t know. What happened to me and Walter? Will I ever know?”