"'Cookie Mister' was a snack brand that was once hugely popular in the area," Alice explained after completing her research. "But it quickly went bankrupt due to over-expansion, around ten years ago. These promotional keychains were distributed in bulk to local grocery stores and liquor shops."
After hearing this, Aubrey chuckled. "Who wants to bet that the so-called 'Cookie Man' was one of Ronnie's regular customers?"
No one took him up on the offer. The team was still grappling with the unsettling revelations from the previous day. Clay, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief, asked, "So she just met this guy, and they went on a killing spree together?"
Hannah's sharp retort silenced him. "Would it have been more acceptable if they'd known each other longer?"
Clay had no answer, leaving Jubal to interject thoughtfully. "If this 'Cookie Man' had such a significant impact on Ronnie, do you think he might try to confront him again, to settle the score once and for all?"
The team exchanged glances, nodding slightly. It seemed plausible.
The next morning, the team arrived at the Harrisville police station, where they found Ronnie's mother causing a commotion with a police officer. She quieted down only when she saw the sharply dressed FBI agents enter.
Jack already knew what her tantrum was about. He casually tossed a pack of Marlboros onto the table. "We're not interested in your interstate prostitution gigs or any of the petty stuff. But I'm sure you don't want the FBI to think you're uncooperative, right?"
The older woman snatched the cigarettes like a lifeline, pulling one out and lighting it with the Zippo Jack offered. After taking a deep drag, she smiled coyly, even squeezing her ample chest suggestively.
"As I've told you, I don't know a thing about what Ronnie's been up to. Don't you dare pin his nonsense on me."
"'Nonsense'?" Hannah snapped, slamming her hands on the table and glaring fiercely. "Your son murdered three innocent women, attacked a respected pastor in a church, and kidnapped a girl. And you call that 'nonsense'?"
The woman flinched, her defiance crumbling as she fell back into her seat, momentarily speechless.
Jack intervened before tensions rose further. "Everyone, take a break," he said, understanding the team's frustration. Ronnie's crimes had tested their limits—especially the assault on Pastor Jennings, which was heinous even without his status as a clergyman.
The others filed out, with JJ gently pulling a still-fuming Hannah along. Only Jack and Jubal stayed behind.
Once the woman had smoked through half the pack and the questioning resumed, she sighed in frustration. "I'm sorry, but I don't remember any 'Cookie Man.' I'd like to help, but Ronnie's never had any connections to anyone—at least none that I know of. If I knew something, I'd tell you."
Jubal placed the "Cookie Mister" promotional keychain on the table. "What about this? Ronnie kept it as a keepsake, so it must have some special meaning. Think carefully—these keychains were handed out at local grocery stores or liquor shops."
The woman stared at the keychain for a long moment before a faint, conflicted expression crossed her face. "Oh, yeah, right… there was a guy like that. White Cornell or something."
Hearing this, Jack and Jubal exchanged relieved glances.
"What kind of connection did Ronnie have with him?" Jack pressed.
"Connection?" She shook her head. "Like I said, Ronnie never connected with anyone. But White did help us out for a while—not just with business, but with life, you know?"
As she spoke, a trace of guilt and nostalgia appeared on her face. Jack wasn't sure she even realized it herself.
"He tried to be a father figure to Ronnie. Took him to the park, made him eat his vegetables… stuff like that."
Jubal, confused, glanced at Jack, then back at her. "That doesn't sound bad at all."
"It wasn't," she admitted, "until he decided he could tell me how to live my life. Then it all went downhill."
"Wait, what?" Jack asked, puzzled. "What do you mean by that?"
She lit another cigarette with Jack's Zippo, this time slipping the lighter into her cleavage. "I mean my goddamn right to do whatever the hell I want."
She took another drag and exhaled with a sneer. "He told me to stop doing drugs. Said I should drink less." She laughed bitterly. "But the final straw was when he told me to make him some goddamn Italian sausage rolls."
Jack nearly choked on his own spit, struggling to suppress a curse. "And what did you do then?"
"I told him to go screw himself," she said proudly, blowing a smoke ring. "Then he kicked us out."
"Thanks for your cooperation. We're done here," Jubal said, his face darkening as he abruptly left the interrogation room.
"To be honest, I used to think your generation of hippies wasn't so bad," Jack said, sitting on the steps outside the police station. Having endured a barrage of secondhand smoke during the questioning, he fished around for a cigar but couldn't find his lighter.
"What do you mean 'your generation of hippies'? I was born in 1980," Jubal retorted, annoyed as he handed Jack a box of matches.
Jack studied Jubal's weathered face for a moment, then shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Looks like we've found Ronnie's endgame. White Cornell gave him a taste of normal life, only to take it away. At least, that's how Ronnie sees it."
Lighting his cigar, Jubal sighed. "Alice is already digging into it. I didn't think our first case would be this… unsettling."
Jack exhaled a plume of smoke, his voice low and reflective. "People often confuse selfishness with freedom. But selfishness is just irrational freedom."
Jubal blinked, recognizing the quote. "Hegel?"
Jack nodded slightly.
Jubal took a long drag from his cigarette. "After this case, I should probably visit my mom. Thank her for all the love she gave me when I was a kid."
(End of Chapter)
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