The next morning, after reviewing a thick stack of case files, Jack summoned Aubrey and JJ to his office. He assigned them to visit Keri McMay's sister. Although neither fully understood why their focus was shifting to a years-old case, they accepted the task without question. In truth, even Jack wasn't entirely convinced there was a problem.
The evidence against McMay seemed airtight: the motive, DNA found inside the victim, surveillance footage placing him near her workplace, and witness testimony formed a seamless narrative. Other than McMay's consistent claims of innocence, every part of the investigation—from his arrest to the trial—appeared impeccable.
Yet something felt off. When Jack first saw McMay's photograph in the case file, a vague sense of unease stirred. Watching the interrogation footage later only strengthened this feeling.
It wasn't that there were procedural issues in how Jubal conducted the interrogation—far from it. The case didn't warrant any extreme measures. Even Jack and Danny, who occasionally bent rules for major cases, rarely risked using the conveniently broken surveillance room for anything short of an urgent or heinous crime.
The unease was subtler. McMay bore a striking resemblance to Brad Pitt—a handsome man who, at least superficially, wouldn't seem the type to resort to violence to commit such a crime. Of course, looks alone prove nothing. Some of America's most infamous serial killers were good-looking and even gained fans.
Still, Jack couldn't shake the incongruity.
When Aubrey and JJ returned, they brought new information.
"Keri McMay's sister admitted she perjured herself," Aubrey reported bluntly. "The alibi she gave for him was false."
JJ added, "I also spoke to some of his old friends. They all said the same thing: before his addiction, McMay was generous and kindhearted. But after he started using, everything changed. The word they used most often was 'jerk,' followed by 'aggressive.'"
That evening, Jack prepared to leave the office. The current case against the serial killer hadn't made much progress. Despite assigning plenty of personnel to comb through months of surveillance footage from Central Park's entrances, it would take time to sift through the sheer volume of material.
Meanwhile, Jack had spent much of the day delving into Jubal's request. So far, they had barely completed the background checks on McMay and the old case.
The three victims in the current serial murder case all appeared normal. Apart from being attractive, nothing about their lives stood out. They had clean records, stable personal lives, and no apparent risky behaviors.
The only breakthrough came from Isobel, who managed to persuade the administrators of the Incel website to hand over a list of IP addresses. The data had just reached the IT department, and the tech team was set for a long night of work.
As Jack walked down the corridor, wondering which of his teammates he might invite to join him for dinner, he spotted Jubal alone in a small conference room. He was replaying footage from his interrogation of McMay.
"Alright, let's review. Tell us what happened the night you killed Casey."
"There's nothing to review. I didn't kill her! I've never killed anyone. Why won't you believe me?"
"Keri, stonewalling us will only make things worse for you in court. Walk us through what happened. Maybe we can talk to the judge about a reduced sentence—because we already know—"
The dialogue was familiar. Jack had watched this footage several times earlier. He knocked lightly on the door, catching Jubal's attention before stepping in and closing it behind him.
"Still not convinced? Even after Aubrey and JJ's findings?" Jack asked.
Jubal looked troubled, haunted even. "I just can't shake the feeling that… maybe I missed something. Maybe there's something I overlooked."
He turned his laptop screen toward Jack and pointed to a paused frame. "See that coffee cup on the table? It wasn't coffee—it was full of vodka."
"Wow." Jack's tone was both impressed and mildly sarcastic. "If you hadn't told me, I'd never have guessed. You didn't sound even slightly impaired."
Jubal ignored the jab and continued. "That night, after we closed the case, I went to a bar and drank myself into a stupor—not to celebrate, but to numb myself. My life was a disaster back then.
"I was separated from my wife. My kids hated their drunk of a father. And I… I slept with my partner. Then we broke up."
Jack raised an eyebrow, struggling to hide his surprise. Jubal had admitted to infidelity the night before, but this revelation added a dramatic twist.
"Yes, I was a jerk," Jubal admitted bitterly. "And now it feels like history is repeating itself. I called her yesterday to tell her there might be an issue with McMay's case. She's about to get promoted, but if this case blows up, it could cost her everything."
Jack raised a hand to cut him off. "Stop. Your old relationship drama isn't the issue here."
Jubal looked at him, confused.
"Dwelling on your past mistakes won't help," Jack said firmly. "Right now, we're dealing with an active serial killer. If McMay was wrongfully convicted, catching the real killer will resolve everything. Focus on the present case."
Jubal hesitated, then nodded slowly. "You're right. I just… I don't know."
Jack glanced at the time—it was nearly 10 PM. He made a suggestion. "How about this: let's get some food. This isn't the place for a conversation like this."
An hour later, in a private room at a Chinatown restaurant, the two shared a simple but satisfying meal: squirrelfish, shrimp tendon, garlic water spinach, and a fish head soup. Jubal devoured two bowls of rice before leaning back with a contented sigh.
"Thanks for this. I didn't even realize I hadn't eaten all day."
Jack had only snacked on a sandwich earlier and was glad for the hearty meal. Originally, he had planned to cook something at home and maybe invite Hannah or JJ to join him, but Jubal's impromptu confession took precedence.
"So, what turned things around for you?" Jack asked, leaning forward. "Was it just the breakup with your partner? You'd already separated from your wife. Morally questionable, sure, but not exactly catastrophic. What made you decide to change?"
Jubal looked conflicted, then embarrassed. "That was part of it. I hadn't officially discussed divorce with my wife, so there was still a lot of guilt. My partner told me she couldn't be a 'homewrecker,' so we broke up. But something else happened.
"That night, after the case ended, I got blackout drunk. The next morning, I woke up in my car, parked on my driveway, with no memory of how I got there."
He paused, his voice trembling. "The front of my car was smashed in, covered in blood. A lot of blood."
Jack stiffened, his pulse quickening. "And?"
"No, no! Not what you're thinking!" Jubal said quickly. "I reported everything immediately. The forensic team confirmed it wasn't human blood. They never told me what animal it was, but they assured me no humans were involved."
Jack exhaled, relieved. "Good thing."
Jubal nodded, still visibly shaken by the memory. "That was my wake-up call. I joined AA, confessed everything to my wife, and braced myself for the fallout. The divorce was painful. Sobriety was harder. I was suspended for three months. But eventually, I got my life back."
Jack nodded. "But the scars remain."
Jubal sighed deeply. "And this case has reopened them. I thought I'd moved on, but now I wonder if there's still something festering underneath."
Jack's tone softened. "Sometimes reopening a wound is necessary to heal it properly. But you have to prepare yourself for the possibility that it's worse than you expect."
(End of Chapter)
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