This guy was quite the actor. Jack could see genuine curiosity in Peter DeLeon's expression—he looked more innocent than Kenneth Sigbee, the café owner. If not for the overwhelming evidence, even Jack might have believed this man's innocence.
"Do you recognize this person?" Jubal placed a photo in front of him. "Kerry McMay. Before he developed a drug addiction, he was a 20-year-old kind-hearted young man, eager to help an unfortunate child like you who was battling a serious illness."
Bone marrow donation is far riskier than giving blood. It involves local anesthesia, and while Kerry McMay's addiction likely had many factors, the possibility that his exposure to such substances began here was hard to ignore.
Jack thought about how, in some countries, anesthesia is rare for most people. In the U.S., however, once someone experiences its effects, curiosity might drive them to seek it out again—easy as buying a pack of cigarettes.
Of course, Jack's speculation was baseless. Meanwhile, the interrogation continued. Aubrey presented a printout of the scientific paper Jack had brought from CSI.
"This bone marrow transplant gave you Kerry McMay's DNA—a phenomenon known as genetic chimerism. Over time, it affected more than just your blood."
Aubrey leaned closer. "Three years ago, when you committed your first murder, you were inexperienced, weren't you? You left your DNA at the scene. But when it was tested, the results pointed to McMay, leading to his conviction."
Jubal slid a photo of a victim across the table. "Do you remember her? Kathy Seaton. McMay was sentenced for her murder."
Peter DeLeon opened his mouth to speak, but Jubal interrupted, laying out four more photos of victims.
"If you had stopped there, we might never have discovered the truth. But you couldn't resist. You refrained for three years because of your back injury, didn't you? It was hard for you to hold back, wasn't it?"
Jubal tapped the photos. "You must've known about McMay's imprisonment. You knew you'd gotten away with it. So when you recovered, you became more cautious. You weighted the bodies down in the lake, disposed of their clothes, and cleaned any traces from their skin. You thought you'd learned from your mistakes."
He pointed a finger at DeLeon. "But you didn't know that the chimeric DNA wasn't limited to your blood or semen. It was in your skin cells, too. And we found traces on the plastic tarp you used.
"It must've been exhausting, dragging that body through the woods late at night with your injured back. Or maybe the sound of a garter snake spooked you. Whatever the reason, you left her in the stream and fled."
Jubal's tone was even and emotionless, yet each word landed like a hammer blow.
DeLeon maintained his strained smile, though his eyes betrayed panic. Jubal's deductions had struck home.
"We found DNA matching McMay's—but he's been in prison for three years. The only person who could've committed these crimes is you."
Jubal leaned forward, staring into DeLeon's eyes.
After a tense silence, DeLeon forced another smile. "This is absurd. I don't know what you're talking about. Why would I kill those women?"
Aubrey, seated opposite, picked up a report and read it aloud. "Your father was repeatedly arrested for assault and domestic violence. According to this police report, when you were ten, he beat your mother unconscious in front of you.
"The evidence included a coil of 14-gauge wire—the same kind used to restrain your mother. Right now, a psychologist is watching this entire interrogation and could easily connect the dots with a dozen technical terms."
DeLeon's smile vanished. He stammered, "I—I didn't... I never... I mean, this is... This is slander! I demand—"
At that moment, the interrogation room door opened. Hannah and JJ walked in, carrying an evidence bag.
Hannah set it down in front of Jubal. "Before you call a lawyer, you might want to see this. We just searched your apartment and found these."
Jubal opened the bag to reveal five rings. "There are five rings in total. Four match the wedding dates of our victims. The fifth has an engraving: Seaton."
"Kathy Seaton, your first victim," Jubal said coldly, tossing the evidence bag onto the table.
The case was airtight. Whether DeLeon confessed or not, it no longer mattered. As soon as Jubal left the room, he contacted the prosecutor—not just to initiate charges against DeLeon but to begin the process of overturning McMay's conviction.
Legal proceedings take time, especially for a retrial of a cold case. McMay would remain in prison for several weeks, but his exoneration was assured. Any subsequent lawsuits for compensation would be a separate matter.
The next evening, Jack cooked a celebratory dinner at the new office kitchen. The small party included FBI colleagues, two NYPD detectives, a famous writer, and his daughter.
Aubrey, ever the enthusiastic eater, devoured half a plate of century egg tofu—a dish most Americans wouldn't touch—much to Jack's delight.
Meanwhile, Jubal stared at the murky liquid in his glass, the faint scent of alcohol making him uneasy.
It was homemade fermented rice wine, a byproduct of Jack's dessert: sweet rice dumplings with osmanthus syrup. The drink contained less than 1% alcohol, but it was still a test of Jubal's resolve.
"Relax," Jack reassured him. "The alcohol content is negligible. You won't find this drink anywhere else in New York."
Jubal hesitated, then took a small sip. The subtle sweetness eased his tension, and he finally let out a long sigh of relief.
"You know, when I saw McMay in prison today, he cried and thanked me. He said he never imagined I'd be the one to save him."
Jack shrugged and passed Aubrey another piece of pork. Feeding him was oddly satisfying—like filling a trough that was instantly emptied.
"On the bright side, McMay's three years in prison helped him kick his drug habit," Jack said, trying to lighten the mood.
(End of Chapter)
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