“I’m Special Deputy Tyrell Turner of the US Marshal Service,” he said, his dark eyes scanning the crowded conference room like he thought one of the escaped inmates might be hiding among them. “Along with Agent Ferguson from the FBI and Ranger Fitzgerald, I’ll be coordinating the manhunt for inmates who escaped from Coffield Unit. While we don’t necessarily believe that any of them will come as far north as Dallas, we wanted to go ahead and establish lines of communication in the event that we’re wrong.”
Carter wasn’t sure what he thought about that. Sure, it might make sense for the escapees to immediately head southwest toward the nearest point on the border with Mexico, but it was likely those men would realize every conceivable route in that direction would already be crawling with law enforcement. Some of them might be smart enough to do the unexpected and head north first.
“Let’s start with what we know so far,” Turner continued as the room’s overhead projector came on and the screen lit up with the booking photos of the eight inmates. Strickland was the worst of the group, so Turner focused mainly on him. The other seven men were certainly no picnic, though, incarcerated murder, rape, torture, and human trafficking. If there were people you didn’t want roaming free, it was this lot.
“As far as how the inmates escaped, we don’t have much in the way of details at this time,” Turner added after they’d all gotten their fill of the arrest records for the eight men. “What I can say for sure is that three of the cell doors were forced open somehow. In fact, they were ripped completely apart. Strickland and the two other inmates were able to break into the guard station for that cell block, opening four more cells and getting the keys for multiple high-security doors. They worked their way through each level of the prison, severely injuring more than a dozen correctional officers in the process.”
“I’ve been at Coffield multiple times,” one of the patrol officers from the DPD said. “Even with keys from the guard station, there should have been no way for the inmates to make it past those security doors. It takes someone on the outside of each door to buzz the person through, in addition to the key.”
Turner nodded. “Yes, we’re aware of that. Unfortunately, until we get a chance to talk to the correctional officers currently in the ICU, we’re left with one of two possibilities—either the inmates were using the guards inside the cell as human shields and threatening to kill them if the doors weren’t opened, or they had help from someone on the inside.”
Carter exchanged looks with his pack mates. No doubt they were probably thinking the same thing he was. That this break-out had a supernatural odor all over it, especially when it came to ripping the cell doors apart.
As the briefing continued, interspersed with frequent comments from Ferguson, it seemed clear Turner and the Marshals were treating all of the escaped convicts rather equally, while the FBI seemed mostly focused on Strickland. Carter supposed he could understand both points of view. On one hand, all of the inmates had shown a tendency for extreme violence. But on the other hand, there was something terrifying about a cold-blooded serial killer who liked to eat people. Especially one who’d terrorized Hadley and threatened to come after her. And while the Marshals and Rangers probably didn’t know about that part, Ferguson definitely did.
“I assume you’ve checked whether any of the inmates have been in communication with anyone over the past few weeks that could have helped with an escape like this?” Chief Leclair asked.
Turner had barely answered that question before someone else asked about the convicts having family or known associates in the Dallas area. From there it was a free-for-all, with the room full of law enforcement wanting to know which direction the escapees might be heading, if they were likely to split up or stay together, and which prisoner was deemed to be the leader of the group.
“Strickland is the leader,” Hadley said, speaking for the first time. “He’s almost certainly the one who planned and initiated the escape, recruiting the others for specific skills they possessed or simply to muddy the waters and make it more difficult to focus on finding him.”
Ferguson turned and gestured to her, before looking at the rest of them. “This is Dr. Hadley Delacroix. She’s a psychiatrist who frequently works with law enforcement on all levels and recently interviewed Strickland at the FBI’s request in an attempt to connect him to at least a dozen other murders that fit his particular MO.”
“Unfortunately, we had to stop the interview when he broke loose of his restraints and tried to eat me,” she added, her face calm even if Carter could hear her heart beating like a drum.
“If you have something you can tell us about Strickland, that would be helpful,” Turner said, Hadley’s words clearly grabbing his attention. “I know I’d like to hear it and I’m sure everyone else would as well.”
“Of course,” Hadley said, getting to her feet and moving to the front of the room. “In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve read the FBI’s personality profile on the man, but I was only two hours into my first interview with him before he decided to try and bite me. So, please take my assessment of the man as extremely preliminary.”
“The two hours you spent with him was two hours longer than anyone else has ever lasted in a room with him,” Ferguson said. “That makes you the closest thing we have to an expert on the guy.”
She sighed. “In that case, I’ll start by saying that Strickland gives every indication of being a textbook case of psychopathic behavior. All the usual symptoms are there—lack of empathy and remorse, inclination to violence and manipulation, narcissism, and pathological lying—but when you dig deeper, you realize Strickland breaks one of the biggest rules when it comes to psychopaths.”
“Which rule is that?” Mike asked from where he was sitting a few rows ahead of Carter.
“Simply put, he’s charming. Charismatic even,” Hadley said. “For this to mean anything, you need to understand that psychopaths are usually considered to possess what we call superficial charm. They put on a good show, but they’re essentially faking it, mimicking behavior they’ve seen in others. As to why, it all comes down to the fact that psychopaths lack the emotional depth necessary to truly understand people. They’re aware of things like love, fear, admiration, and jealousy as a concept, but they don’t experience them. At least, not the way everyone else does.”
“So when it comes to complex human interaction, they have to fake it,” Mike finished. “I’m assuming Strickland doesn’t?”
“No, he doesn’t,” Hadley said. “Based on the reports from the Coffield Unit correctional officers, Strickland was running his cell block within two weeks of his arrival. He either intimidated them or more likely, convinced them that it was in their best interest to follow him. Regardless, he was able to persuade those other seven inmates to not only help him escape but to go with him. And a serial killer whom other violent men will gladly follow is a scary thought.”
“Is there anything else about Strickland we need to know?” Turner asked, looking curious and concerned at the same time.
Hadley thought a moment. “Psychopaths are normally impulsive. This part is going to sound counterintuitive considering he’s a man who ate his victim in an effort to hide the murder, but I think Strickland has much more control over his impulses than other psychopaths. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been planning this breakout since the end of his trial. If that’s true, then you can expect him to have a plan to avoid capture that’s just as well thought-out.”
As the conversation devolved into a heated discussion between the FBI and the Marshals concerning where they should be focusing their attention when it came to catching the escapees, Hadley stepped away from the podium and sat down. The Marshals wanted to maintain a full three-sixty-degree perimeter around Coffield Unit out to a fifty-mile radius while the FBI wanted to focus the majority of their manpower to the south and west, still thinking that Strickland and the others would head straight for the border. The only thing the Marshals and FBI seemed to agree on was that they didn’t need any help from the DPD, other than officers to man the various highway checkpoints.
“Of course, if Strickland or any of the others do show up in the Dallas jurisdiction, we’d appreciate if you set up a security cordon and then call us in,” Ferguson said.
Carter thought Chief Leclair might explode at that request, so he was impressed when she held her tongue and nodded noncommittally. The briefing wrapped up quickly after that with the FBI, Marshals, and Texas Rangers all leaving within minutes of each other. Hadley slipped out, giving him a casual glance and a nod as she moved for the door. Hopefully, she was heading for the break-room on the second floor of the admin building where they’d agreed to meet.
“I don’t want to think the feds are hiding things from us, but the only reason to put on this whole dog-and-pony show is if either Ferguson or Turner—or both—think some of those escaped convicts are heading to Dallas,” Chief Leclair said after the conference room had cleared out except for a few members of her headquarters staff and the SWAT team. “If that happens, they want us to play nice and call them first.”
“I agree,” Gage said, dark eyes unreadable. “Though there’s a good chance they’re simply covering all their bases versus operating off an actual reliable tip. It doesn’t matter in the end though. The only thing that’s important is how you want us to handle it if any of these men show up in our city.”
The chief pinned him with a look. “I want you and your team to do what you do so well—protect the citizens of Dallas and deal with these men in the most efficient way possible. I’ll handle Ferguson and Turner and any complaints they have after the fact.”
After ironing out a few more details, the chief left, Gage, Mike, and the remaining members of the headquarters staff going with her. Carter gave them a few minutes to leave, chatting with Trey, Hale, and some of the other guys, before heading out to check and make sure Hadley was okay.
