“We couldn’t find anything in the apartment, and he refused to discuss the matter on the few occasions he agreed to say anything at all to law enforcement.”
Hadley considered that. “But why start eating the body in the first place if he was just going to use acid to dispose of it anyway?”
Ferguson sighed. “We suspect Strickland thought he could eat all the evidence of the murder and that he only turned to the acid when he’d gotten too full to take another bite.”
Hadley wasn’t speechless often but didn’t quite know what to say to that.
“While Strickland’s lawyer pointed out that their client had a clean record, we still did a little digging,” Ferguson said, sliding a collection of crime scene photos across the table to Hadley and Maddox. “We figured it didn’t seem likely he woke up one morning and decided to start eating people.”
Hadley glanced down at the photos and saw that they were of a dozen different crime scenes. Ones with a lot of blood and bodies with lacerated flesh, as well as glimpses of exposed and broken bones here and there. But it was the photo of a bathtub with a gruesomely dismembered body in it that held her attention.
“Have you linked these murders to Strickland?” Hadley asked, looking up at the FBI agent expectantly.
Ferguson shook his head. “Not directly. But we have a string of fifteen unsolved murders scattered across the southwest over the past decade, each of them involving partially cannibalized remains and the use of acid to try and dispose of the body. If that’s not a connection to Strickland, I don’t know what is. Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to place him at any of the crime scenes. That’s where you come in.”
“With Strickland already facing life in prison, you’re hoping I can get him to confess to these other murders,” Hadley said.
“Yes,” Ferguson said with a nod. “You have a reputation when it comes to getting psychopaths to talk about themselves. With you there to nudge him, we’re hoping Strickland will give us enough to officially close those cases. It won’t mean much in the long run considering he’s already serving a life sentence, but it’ll be closure for a lot of grieving families.”
“Trust me, I understand the concept of closure,” Hadley said but still had to wonder. “Why me in particular, though? The FBI has plenty of capable psychologists in its Behavioral Analysis Unit. Why aren’t one of them here?”
Ferguson was silent a moment before answering. “They tried. Several of them. But Strickland wouldn’t engage with any of them.”
“And what makes you think I’ll do any better?” Hadley asked.
She appreciated the FBI’s vote of confidence in her abilities, but it seemed like this was going to be a waste of time.
Ferguson reached into his briefcase again, pulling out another set of photos. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but these are the women that Eugene Strickland has been involved with over the past half dozen years.”
Hadley glanced at the pictures of the women. All pretty, they had long, brown hair with blonde highlights and soulful dark eyes. Her stomach dropped as she realized that the killer clearly had a type—one that happened to look a lot like her.
“You brought me in for no other reason than I resemble his ex-girlfriends,” she said flatly.
She would have been offended at the FBI for their sexist attitude if it wasn’t for the fact that they were probably right about targeting the man’s obvious weakness.
“Of course not. The FBI truly does appreciate your skill as a psychologist,” Ferguson said without a shred of guilt. “But right now, we need an in with this guy, and if the fact that you’re his type does that, we’ll take it without apology.”
Hadley didn’t need an apology. And while it might bother her somewhat to pander to a man’s masculinity like this, if it got her a shot at a mind as twisted as Strickland’s, she’d live with the insult.
The phone on the wall over by Burnett rang, interrupting anything else Ferguson might have said. The warden immediately picked it up. He listened for a moment, then thanked the person on the other end.
“They’re bringing Strickland up now,” Burnett said, glancing at her with a worried expression. “He’ll be here in a few minutes.”
While they waited, Ferguson discussed how the interview would be conducted. Hadley would be alone with Strickland in the interview room while the FBI agent, Burnett, and Maddox observed from this side of the two-way mirror.
“Strickland’s ankles will be chained to the chair and his wrists will be cuffed to the table,” Maddox assured her. “He won’t be able to touch you as long as you keep your distance.”
Hadley nodded, promising him that she’d never get within touching distance of a man like Eugene Strickland.
The door to the interview room on the other side of the two-way mirror opened and two guards escorted Strickland inside.
Hadley had been in the presence of countless dangerous people from serial killers and rapists to arsonists and child abusers, but there was something different about Strickland. She could actually feel the menace that surrounded him.
A shiver ran down her spine as she realized that he was staring at her with dark, emotionless eyes. She knew it wasn’t possible, but it seemed like Strickland knew she was on this side of the glass.
Hadley took a deep breath. She needed to get it together. She needed to be calm, cool, and collected before walking into a room with a man like Strickland.
In the other room, the guards led Strickland forward to chain him to the table in the center of the room. But as one of the men pulled out the heavy metal chair, a loud alarm sounded, echoing throughout the prison.
