Lights blazed on all at once, causing them both to lift their hands, blinking rapidly. They weren’t particularly bright but surprising in the swirl of shadows. There was a single chair in the center of that room, facing the wall of windows. Aiden could just make out the arms on either side of the chair. One of which dangled a revolver from his limp hand.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” the man said, his voice sounding almost…frail. Aiden frowned. He and Jeffries had to be around the same age, but he sounded…weak. “You’ve come all this way. Come on in.”
Aiden crept closer, scanning his surroundings, holding Thomas’s hand but doing his best to keep him somewhat shielded with his body.
“We’re alone,” Jeffries assured him. “I am armed, though,” he said, holding the gun up so they could see he wasn’t bluffing. I assume you are, too.”
They were armed. Could Aiden just draw his weapon and fire a bullet into the man’s head?
“You could shoot me. Of course, you could,” he said, like he was reading Aiden’s mind. A shriek sounded faintly from somewhere in the other man’s vicinity and then a phone screen was held up showing a girl bleeding and screaming in what looked like a pine box. Jesus, had he buried someone alive? “But then that poor girl I left out there…somewhere…bleeding in the woods will likely run out of air before you find her. The wilderness is…” He waved a hand. “Vast.”
Was he bluffing? Christ, this just got ten times more complicated. Once they stepped fully into the room, they got their first real glimpse of what it was that lined the walls. Pictures. Women screaming. Women bleeding. Women dying. Hundreds of them. On the sofa beneath those photos were dozens of tools, cast red from blood or rust. There were also sealed boxes on the floor.
“What the hell is this?” Aiden asked, his pulse pounding in his throat.
The man gave a wheezing laugh. “My work. Artists like to show their work. I’m quite proud of it. I’ve been at it for quite some time, as you can see.”
They finally came to stand in front of the man for the first time and Aiden saw Thomas stiffen. He didn’t blame him. He was what Aiden imagined Shane would have looked like had he been allowed to grow older.
It made Thomas stumble back a few steps, which made Jeffries smile. “Have a seat,” he said, pointing to the couch pressed against the window directly in front of him. “Let’s chat.”
Thomas didn’t move, just stared. Aiden could feel his palm dampen as he held it. He squeezed it, hoping to keep him from sliding into a full-on panic attack. All that false bravado in the car had just been for Aiden’s benefit. He knew it.
Jeffries gave him a frigid smile. “Uncanny, isn’t it? My mom hated it. Would tell me every day that I looked just like him. Like the monster who attacked her, impregnated her, ruined her whole life just like me.” When nobody responded, he shouted, “Sit down!” Then, in a softer tone, “Don’t be impolite.”
They did as he asked, sinking down onto the sofa. Doing so let Aiden see him better. There was something wrong with him. His skin had a strange almost grayish cast to it. His eyes looked hollow. The man was sick.
“Your mother was likely suffering from trauma,” Thomas said softly.
“Trauma! She was suffering from trauma? She suffered through one assault from a boy she was crushing on and I paid for it every single fucking day. Every day. Beaten. Burned. Hell, one time she stabbed me. That was the day they took me away from her for good. But just when I thought she was the worst, then came the men. My ‘foster fathers.’ She was the real fucking monster. That’s why she was my first victim. I don’t think anybody even knows she’s dead. By then, she was just another junkie whore.”
Christ. This guy was getting it all out. This was his final fucking confession before he did something drastic. “And because of that, you…what? Are somehow justifying all this?” Aiden asked, sweeping his hand around the room.
“No need to be judgey. We’re all killers here. Aren’t we, Thomas?” Jeffries said. “Sometimes, we let others kill for us, but, sometimes, we do it ourselves. Sometimes, we set up the ones we love to kill for us and then shove a shotgun under their chin and blow their faces off.”
“I didn’t kill your father. He killed my family and then he killed himself,” Thomas said. “He was sick. He needed help. Your grandmother could have helped him—”
Jeffries brandished the gun, silencing him. “I’m sure that’s what you told the police. I might have even believed it, if you hadn’t then gone on to become a killer yourself. That was when I realized the truth. He killed your family for you and you murdered him to keep it quiet. You wanted your family out of the way so you could take all that money for yourself.”
“None of that’s true. We were little kids. Your father was sick. He was sick and he killed my family and when I wouldn’t kill his, he killed himself. It’s as sad and tragic as it is simple,” Thomas said.
Jeffries snickered. “Are you telling me your sons don’t kill for you?”
“No, I’m not saying that,” Thomas said. “But some people—people like you—are too dangerous to live and need to be put down. My sons do that.”
Jeffries sneered. “Who died and made you judge, jury, and executioner? Who are you to say who deserves to live and die? The high and mighty Thomas Mulvaney can pluck people from this world at will—people who do the same thing he does. Don’t you see what a fucking hypocrite you are?”
Thomas shook his head. “We are not the same. You kill for sport. I kill for necessity. I kill to make sure people like you can’t do…this.” He waved his hand around.
“We’re not that different, you and I,” Jeffries assured him. “You’ve just found a way to transfer your homicidal impulses onto your children and make it seem justified. It appears my father did the same. Too bad he never got to see it.”
“We’re very different,” Aiden said. “You’re slaughtering innocent women. We’re slaughtering men like you.”
Jeffries scoffed. “There are no ‘innocent’ women,” he said. “They’re all whores and liars who constantly play the victim. I’m the one doing the public service. Consider it population control.”
“Is this why you brought us here? To show off your collection? Your trophies,” Aiden asked.
Jeffries smirked. “It’s not the only reason, no.”
