“My dangerous protector.”
“Something like that.” During the entire drive, I’d done nothing but think about how suffocated I felt in dealing with the Python Killer and whatever his next plans were. Had he been watching my lovely guest for some time, furious that he’d been unable to complete his plans with her? Was the shift all about the execution? That was the only logical reason I could think of.
I found it interesting that I’d spent way too much time comparing myself to the killer after what he’d said. Maybebecause somewhere deep inside, I knew the man was partially right.
Including the fact I’d enjoyed killing before. Up until Raven Intel, all under the guise of doing my job. Well, I was still doing my job, only I had no issue crossing the line. Maybe I never had.
“Have you ever wondered what will happen when you die?”
I spit out a half shot of scotch, the liquid splattering across my shirt. Alexia lifted her head from where she’d rested it on her bent knees, peering at me with wide eyes full of sadness and exhaustion. It had been one hell of a long day.
She’d changed into ratty jeans, both knees with holes and an untucked shirt that I could swear from the size she purchased in the men’s department. And she looked sexy as hell, more so than in heels and a dress or suit.
My mind was completely in the gutter.
A slow smile spread across her face, a hint of the mischievous light I’d come to adore finally replacing the flat line of dread and knowing.
After wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I shook my head. “I can’t honestly say I’ve given it much thought. I haven’t been to church in a very long time. Don’t tell my mother that. She calls every Sunday to check on the status of my soul.”
Chuckling, she leaned back, bringing her glass of wine to her lips. “I’d like to think there will be some sense of peace, but honestly, I just don’t know any longer. Maybe there’s nothing but darkness, suffocating shadows with nothing but time and space to spend picking apart every horrid thought and deed.”
“That’s very… depressing.”
“When I was in college taking psychology courses, my professor once told me that people born of decency and humanity worried about the end of their lives while those who were evil or without a conscience couldn’t care less. That’s why their actions are completely uninhibited. Reckless. They don’t fear death. To them, it’s an extension of their lives and nothing more. They have no mechanism of feeling guilt or remorse of any kind. They thrive on the darkness. In my professor’s mind, criminologists should alter their style of investigations and by doing so would become highly successful in capturing monsters. Even preventing horrific crimes from happening.”
“You have me curious. How so?” During the drive home, we’d both been reflective. Alexia had been positive Samuel wasn’t the killer based on his two blue eyes. I’d been certain because he’d been grandstanding for the cameras, expecting someone of importance to either be viewing the video in real time or later after we’d left. He’d been instructed on what to say should anyone from the police come snooping around.
But he hadn’t been taught how to handle his brother being shoved into his face. That’s the only reason he’d cracked. Even then, it wasn’t enough to matter in any court of law.
What I don’t think had been anticipated was how to handle a victim dropping by for a visit. Samuel had certainly recognized her and it could be from nothing more than putting two and two together from our sudden appearance. But I still didn’t think so.
His reactions were an open book, even if his answers were ones he’d needed to drag from the depths of some vault.
“Every interrogation concentrates on the same questions. The facts of where the killer was in relation to the victim or victims. Their motives and the ability to carry out the deed whether withtime or opportunity. Instead, they should be delving more into the suspect’s psyche. First, you identify the killer by asking him or her thoughts on the afterlife. Killers don’t have any issue discussing the shadows that lead their lives straight into death.”
“Fascinating.”
She arched a single brow. “You don’t realize you do that in your books, but you’re much cleverer with how you allow the reader to identify the killer. You leave clues like breadcrumbs, sprinkling them throughout the pages. If you gobble up one handful, you’ll head toward the wrong person but will be highly entertained. If you snack on the correct sweet crumbs, you’ll find yourself lost in the very shadows that encompass the killer’s fractured soul.”
I had to laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
“I had a criminology professor who taught me that killers expose themselves through their likes and dislikes. But the most successful serial killers are those who go against the grain. They are completely normal in every aspect of their lives. But there’s one thing that usually makes them crack.”
“Okay, Professor. What do you think will make our killer crack? He has no fear of being caught. No fear of the darkness or predatory creatures. Certainly no fear of the FBI. Sorry about that, big tough guy, but the monster was eager for you to find him.” She laughed when I swatted her leg, the sound sending a white-hot jolt through every muscle.
“Maybe you’re right about that. The more we learn about his family, the easier it will be to determine what makes him tick.” The last thing I intended on telling her was that the brother’s oneweakness was sitting right in front of me. It was as if he idolized her.
She scooted a little closer, resting her arm on the back of the couch. “I can tell you have a theory. Let me see if I’m right. Somehow, Samuel’s twin brother takes the fall. Or as we discussed, Samuel wanted to be his brother’s hero. If they look alike, then wouldn’t the press have hounded the free brother’s existence by now?”
“They would unless he altered his appearance. As we’ve discussed, the man could be anyone on the street.”
“Which makes him even more dangerous.”
“Exactly.”
The way she nodded was as if she’d become resolved to the understanding she’d never be able to pick him out from a crowd. Even with two different colored eyes, contacts could easily be used to further hide his identity.
