Lorelei Ricci’s first impression of the murderer across from her was Christ, he got fucked up.  The giant, red-haired man was handcuffed to his metal chair, staring blankly across the interview table. His face was covered in dark, purple bruises, and his nose was horribly crooked. Looking closer, Lorelei thought she could see the start of a black eye. She wondered if, during their struggle, the victims had inflicted these wounds on him in self-defense.  To say that Lorelei