This was going to be okay. Alec was right beside her. She kept telling herself that.
It’ll be okay.
When Sam had come to interview James Flynt for her book nearly two years ago, she’d been alone. Not inside, of course, and certainly not with the inmates. She’d received thorough safety instructions from the warden, and a guard had escorted her at all times. But she had pulled into the facility by herself, and had sat in her car, wondering why she had ever decided to arrange a meeting with a scumbag cyber thief.
Fortunately,she had come after the original maximum-security facility-more than a century old and renowned for its violence-had been shut down. The buildings still in operation were modern, nondescript, looking as if they could have housed any other government agency.
If not for the razor wire. And the guard towers.
As she’d learned the last time, the medium-security site where Flynt was incarcerated was only one of several lockups in the complex, which sprawled for many acres. It was perfectly safe and not too intimidating. Not as nonthreatening as the women’s building, the minimum-security one, or especially the boot camp, but it still beat having to walk into the maximum-security facility.
“You okay?” Alec asked, as if sensing her trepidation once they parked in a guest lot.
“Yeah. It’s just not my favorite place.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Do you really want to talk to Flynt?” she countered.
He nodded once.
“Then I do have to do this.”
Not arguing, Alec got out of the car and came around to open her door. She walked close beside him, aware of the watchful eyes scanning the security monitors, the guards high in their towers, the workers in the office windows, and even inmates getting some fresh air in the yard.
Once inside, Alec headed not toward a general visitors’ area, but toward a special law enforcement one. They were met by two armed guards who photocopied their identification and asked a few questions.
“Oh, you’re coming to see old J.T., huh?” one of the guards said when he read the sign-in log. “He’s been bragging that his girlfriend was gonna be here today.”
Alec could have cracked a walnut against his stiff jaw. “We’re here on official business.”
“Tell that to Jimmy.”
“I intend to.”
Sam shook off her unease and forced a reassuring smile. “It’ll be fine.”
“Ma’am, you’ll have to leave your coat here,” one of the guards said. “Your bag, too. We’ll secure them for you.”
She knew that, from the last time. Slipping out of the long wool overcoat, she passed it over to the man, seeing his quick, not-very-discreet glance over her attire.
Damn. Maybe she should have let Alec stop at a mall. She thought so even more when she heard a crisp, hard-edged voice say, “Your dress is inappropriate.”
Sucking in an embarrassed breath, she glanced over to see the prison warden, Connolly. The gruff, stern-looking man, who had been at least polite on the phone, now stared at her with flinty-eyed disapproval.
“Warden Connolly,” she said. “I’m Samantha Dalton. We spoke on the phone?”
“You do know we have a dress code for a reason,” he said, not acknowledging her greeting. He frowned as he stared at the length of her skirt. Though what she wore was perfectly acceptable for a party, it wasn’t for a prison, where women’s skirts, if she recalled correctly, had to reach the knee. “Many of these men are unused to the presence of females. We prefer to keep them docile, and having a young woman in the area is difficult enough without adding provocative attire to the mixture.”
Her face flushed hot. Sam hadn’t been called out on her clothes since she was a teenager and her mom wouldn’t let her wear a pair of jeans with one of the ass pockets torn down at the corner. She kept her cool, though, saying, “I apologize. I forgot about the dress code.”
“We won’t be seen by any of the general population,” Alec said, stepping close, lending silent support, as if he read her embarrassment. “Maybe she could leave her coat on?”
The older man didn’t unbend. “Coats are against regulations, too. I don’t make the rules-the state does-but in this case, I agree with them. It is an issue of safety-of the inmates, my men, and you, ma’am.”
Alec pulled out his badge, which he’d just tucked away after showing it to the checkpoint guards. “Mrs. Dalton is assisting me with an investigation, Warden, and I really need her help. Can you not make some type of accommodation here? Search the coat thoroughly, perhaps, and let her keep it on? I assume the prohibition is because of the fear of weapons?”
Warden Connolly held Alec’s gaze, and for a second, she thought he would refuse. How embarrassing would that be, sent out to wait in the car like a recalcitrant child because her damn skirt was two inches too short?
Finally, the man let out an annoyed sign. “Very well. If it truly is urgent.” He gave a quick nod to one of his men. The guard patted down Sam’s coat, put his hands in the pockets, felt the lining, then handed it back to her.
“Please do keep buttoned up. It is difficult enough to keep these animals in check,” the warden said. “I do not want any trouble because one of them loses his head over a nicely turned leg. They’ve preyed on society enough on the outside; I won’t allow them to cause any disruptions in here.”
Harsh. Obviously the guy took his job seriously. “I understand,” Sam said, feeling as small as she ever had. She vowed to go through her closet and get rid of all her too-tight clothing just as soon as she got to return home.
“Good.” The man spun away with a few crisply issued orders and a nod at his guards.
Once he was gone, Alec leaned close to murmur, “I’m sorry about the clothes.”
She buttoned the coat from neck to thigh, knowing she’d be a sweaty mess within minutes, but not about to get tossed on her ear for not obeying the rules. “It’s okay.”
Once she was suitably concealed, they were led to a private interview room. Her previous meeting with Flynt had taken place in a regular visitors’ area, thick Plexiglas separating her from the man. This was different, a private room used for law enforcement, obviously meant for interrogation rather than personal inmate visits.
It hadn’t occurred to her that there would be no barrier between her and the criminal they’d come to see. She didn’t worry for her own physical safety. First because Jimmy hadn’t been incarcerated for doing violence; he was here for being a damned thief. And second, because even if an armed guard hadn’t walked inside and stayed with them, she knew Alec would never let Flynt lay a hand on her.
But the situation promised to be an uncomfortable one. As Alec had said, she was setting herself out as bait for someone she detested. She suddenly found herself glad for the strict dress code, knowing how unpleasant it would have been to sit here in her tight clothes and be ogled by the creep. Not to mention counterproductive, since Alec would never have stood for it.
She was especially glad when Jimmy entered the room, led by another guard, accompanied by his attorney. In his orange jumpsuit, with his hands chained together, he still managed to smile like a host greeting a guest at an exclusive party. “Samantha,” he exclaimed, stepping closer, as if he fully intended to greet her with a warm hug. “Happy birthday!”
Her birthday. God, she’d totally forgotten.
The guard put a stop to Jimmy’s attempted contact, even as Alec stepped in front of her, giving her a quick it’s-your-birthday-and-you-didn’t-tell-me? look. Sam offered him an apologetic shrug, then got back to the reason for their visit.
“Hello, Jimmy,” she said, trying to sound pleasant, and also trying to hide her shock at his appearance.
The last time she had come here, Flynt had looked like a healthy, middle-aged man, with thick dark hair, robust features, and an inmate’s weight-lifting physique.
This Flynt was much different. So visibly unhealthy, she felt a stab of sorrow for him.
He had lost at least fifty pounds. His loose, baggy skin hung from protruding bones. Dark circles surrounded his milky eyes, and his cheeks held red blotches and tiny scabs, as if he were too easily cut while shaving. His hair had thinned and was now salted with gray, and he moved slowly, like an old man.
She noticed the slight yellow tinge of his skin right before he said, “I got the hep C. Trashed my liver. Didn’t want to worry you, so I didn’t put anything about it in my letters.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He shrugged. “Not like livin’ in here is so great I’m gonna miss it.”
“There’s nothing-”
“I guess convicted felons don’t shoot right up to the top of the transplant list.”
She disliked this man, hated everything he had done and all he represented, but Sam almost wished she could reach out and touch his hand, offer a moment of human warmth. Dying in this place was a harsh punishment, even for all his crimes.
“Hello, Mrs. Dalton, nice to see you again,” said the attorney, extending his hand.
“Mr. Carter,” she said with a smile. The fiftyish lawyer, who was well-known and highly successful in Baltimore, had been very helpful when she’d been working on her book. He had even made himself available to answer her questions long after the prison interview, insisting on the privilege of taking her to lunch to do so. Recently widowed, he had seemed rather lonely.
“Have you been getting my letters?” Jimmy asked.
“Yes.” She hadn’t opened those letters, not in a long time. Not since the one when Jimmy had claimed he’d taken vengeance on her behalf.
“Thank you for seeing us, Mr. Flynt.” Alec stepped into the line of sight between Sam and the convict. “I’m Special Agent Lambert. Why don’t we sit down?”
Jimmy shuffled to the side to peer around Alec. “You doing all right?”
Sam nodded briefly, then gestured toward the table and chairs. Once they were all seated, Alec tried again to engage Flynt in conversation. “As you might have been told, I’m interested in talking to you about your past. We’re not trying, in any way, to implicate you further. We’re just hoping some of your knowledge could assist us in future investigations.”
Flynt didn’t even glance at him. “Aren’t you hot in that coat, Samantha?”
Sam shifted on the hard chair. Yes, she was hot; she could feel a line of fine sweat on her upper lip and along her hairline. The room was already warm, and the bright overhead lights didn’t help. Despite that, she managed a smile. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Alec leaned over the table. “Mr. Flynt-”
“You don’t look fine. You should take it off.”
“Jimmy, look,” Sam said, feeling Alec’s impatience, “I really would appreciate it if you’d talk to Agent Lambert. He came here today specifically on my recommendation.”
The convict’s rheumy eyes widened in pleasure. Knowing how his mind worked, she imagined he was building up quite a scenario about how impressed she must be by him. Flynt might have stolen millions, but at heart he was still a petty crook. He just used computers as his weapons, rather than standard burglary tools.
“I would consider it another personal favor if you’d help him out.” Swallowing her own revulsion, she added, “You know, because of my family background.”
Jimmy’s quick, indrawn breath said he’d taken that exactly the way she’d intended him to-as an acknowledgment that she believed he had already done her a favor. A big one.
“You’re welcome.” He cast a questioning glance at his attorney. “This is all off the record, right? Nothing I say can be used against me?”
Carter confirmed as much with Alec, then nodded once. “You’re free to speak.”
“Good.” His thin, bony hands twisted together on the table and he said, “ Course, it probably wouldn’t matter, even if you could use it against me. I’ll be dead long before anybody can convict me of shivving another inmate.” His eyes gleamed as he added, “It was worth it, Samantha, for what him and the others did to you and your poor grandma. I never preyed on old folks, never stole a dime from somebody who couldn’t afford it.”
She doubted that.What she didn’t doubt, however, was the passion in Jimmy’s voice. This didn’t seem like the BS line she had expected from the man. It sounded, in fact, as if he almost believed every word he was saying.
Sam’s breaths quickened, coming from a shallow place in her lungs, and her head suddenly seemed a little light. The heat, probably.
But maybe more. For the first time, she wondered if there was a kernel of truth in Jimmy Flynt’s story. If he really had found one of the nameless, faceless men she’d hated for so long, and done something to him.
Was it possible?
“He was a bad man,” Jimmy said, as if knowing what she was thinking. “Tried to deny it, but I knew the truth about what he did to your grandma, wiping out her retirement and all.”
The room spun, and she clutched the edge of the table to keep herself grounded. Yes, Sam had given interviews when the book came out, and had touched on a personal, family reason for her actions. But the details Flynt provided weren’t something that would be easy for him to find out, especially not while incarcerated, legally prohibited from going near a computer.
“He won’t be stealin’ some other old lady blind, driving her to a heart attack, ever again.”
Sam rose to her feet, unsteady though they were. How could he know that? Unless it was true. Unless this other thief had realized one of the victims he’d scammed had died during the height of the torment. She swayed a little.
“Sam!” Alec leaped up beside her, and, across the table, Flynt and his lawyer rose as well.
Alec slid a steadying arm around her waist. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered. Closing her eyes, she wiped the back of her hand across her brow, feeling the moisture there, using it as an excuse to cover her shock. “I’m just hot. I need to step outside and cool off.”
“Take her coat off her,” Jimmy snapped.
Alec ignored him and led her to the door. The guard immediately opened it. But before she stepped out, Sam knew she had to do something or the interview would be over before it began. The minute she left, Jimmy would lose his reason for cooperating.
Yet she couldn’t stay. She just couldn’t.
Swallowing, she forced a small smile and looked over her shoulder at the man. “I’m fine, really. It’s my own fault; I can’t take my coat off because I forgot about the dress code.”
His mouth rounded into an O, as if he imagined she was wearing nothing but a bikini under the coat.
Swallowing a grimace, she continued. “Jimmy, I need to get outside, but please, can you just try to help Agent Lambert here, as a personal favor to me? It’s very important to me, and I’d be forever in your debt.”
The inmate’s sallow face split into a broad smile, and his sunken eyes almost sparkled. All because he was going to get to do her another favor. Something personal. Something he thought would make her like him?
God, if she didn’t feel ready to faint, she’d probably burst into tears. Confused by her conflicting feelings of revulsion and sorrow, horror and gratitude toward the man, she didn’t know how she was going to get past them.
So she did the only thing she could. Even without a confirmation that the inmate would do as she asked, or that Alec would get his interview, Sam pushed out of the room, leaving Jimmy Flynt and his pathetic existence behind her.
Wyatt Blackstone was not a prideful man. Yet if he ever did think about his one personality trait of which he could be proud, it was his ability to remain fully in charge of his emotions.
He’d seen as a young child the horror that ensued when someone reacted from a place of anger, jealousy, or resentment. Having firsthand knowledge of the dangers of being a slave to feelings, he never allowed emotion to do a job meant for intellect. Even when he’d been targeted by people he had once admired, he’d somehow managed to restrain himself and face his colossal career crisis impassively. At least in the daylight hours, when anyone else could bear witness.
None of that, however, could prevent the hard kernel of pure anger deep inside him from taking root and growing with every word Special Agent Tom Anspaugh spoke.
“What do you mean, you’re taking Agent Fletcher to Williamsburg for a sting operation tonight?” he asked, managing somehow to keep his voice calm and evenly modulated. Though, if the agent had any brain at all, he would almost certainly see the tic in Wyatt’s temple and the narrow set of his mouth.
“Like I said, last night went so great, him chatting for hours, we think this crazy Lovesprettyboys SOB is really hooked.”
Wyatt stiffened in surprise at the name, schooling his features to reveal absolutely nothing. Lily’s involvement began to make sense.
“Last night?” As in, when Lily was supposed to be guarding their witness?
“Yeah, the chat went on forever, her still acting like she thought he was a twelve-year-old boy. Lil made out like her parents were going to be out for the night and she’s babysitting her kid brother, and this guy was practically panting trying to find out where she lived.”
Wyatt said nothing for a moment, putting the pieces together. Anspaugh had blown into his office five minutes ago, without a knock, much less an appointment. He’d launched into a conversation that he obviously expected Wyatt to follow.
Unfortunately, Wyatt hadn’t had any idea what the hell the other man was talking about. Not that he was going to reveal that, not yet, anyway. He knew Anspaugh. More important, he knew other men like Anspaugh. Admitting a disadvantage to someone so ambitious and cutthroat was a mistake only a fool would make, and Wyatt was no fool.
Even though he was beginning to feel fairly certain one of his own people, Lily Fletcher, had taken him for one.
Because, judging by what Anspaugh had revealed, Lily had been clandestinely working with another team on a pedophile investigation. Which bothered him for two reasons. First, he could not have untrustworthy people on his staff. Lily’s secrecy about the whole thing had obviously been to one purpose: to keep Wyatt from finding out what she was doing.
That was probably because of his second reservation-Lily’s history.
He understood the need to stop other children from being abused and taken the way her nephew had been. But he hadn’t fooled himself; Fletcher was still fragile. Still a little broken inside. It was obvious in the haunted emptiness in her eyes and the hollow sound of her infrequent laughter. Which was why, when she had begun to get so wrapped up in the activities of the sick pedophile from Satan’s Playground, he had cautioned her against letting her emotions mix with her job.
But you didn’t forbid it.
No. He hadn’t. He had counseled against it, but he hadn’t told her she could not help a CAT working child protection during the Satan’s Playground investigation. Her decision to hide her involvement, however, meant she knew he would be against it going on this long.
She’d walked a fine line, not disobeying a direct order because there had never been one. But for only one reason-because she had never asked him to change the boundaries of their original agreement.
His first impulse was to ask for her transfer, and he still might. Absolutely the only thing preventing that was his own culpability in the whole thing. He had known Lily’s weaknesses when he’d brought her on board. He’d seen her reaction to the child abuse at the cyber playground. And he had not refused her request outright.
“Why does Lily have to actually be there for the takedown?” he asked, wanting to know just how deep his agent had gotten.
Anspaugh shrugged. “Well, for one thing, with the way I suspect she feels about this Lovesprettyboys dude, I think she’ll want to be.”
“So you truly believe this suspect will visit the house tonight. Why? If he’s passing himself off as another child, why would he expect this young girl to allow him to enter?”
“We already know that psycho’s not just into assaulting little kids; he wants to see them hurt, killed.”
That was exactly what the man had wanted when he’d tried to pay a small fortune to have the Reaper do it for him.
“So we’re not thinking he’s a regular perv, trying to seduce a young girl into meeting with somebody she knows is a man. This creep could just be looking to act quickly on opportunity-a house with two young kids alone. One of them is his favorite victim type, an eight-year-old male, the other a weak little girl who could be easily subdued while he does what he wants to with the boy.”
Wyatt nodded in acknowledgment. It was possible. He didn’t know that the unsub was desperate enough to go after the first unsupervised boy he could find. Then again, he had seemed pretty desperate when he’d offered to transfer a fortune to a stranger just so he could get to watch a video of an attack.
A knock sounded on his partially closed office door, and Lily Fletcher herself stuck her head in. “Sir, can I have a minute?” She obviously couldn’t see who was sitting across from him.
Wyatt waved an expansive hand, beckoning her in. “By all means; what perfect timing.”
She stepped inside, then stumbled over her own feet when she saw Anspaugh. Her face drained of color and her mouth fell open on an audible, shocked inhalation.
“Special Agent Anspaugh and I were just discussing tonight’s operation,” Wyatt murmured, not revealing by expression or tone what he thought of the whole situation. “Not to mention your assistance in the investigation.”
Lily stared at him in silence, obviously knowing he didn’t want to get into the discussion they needed to have in front of an outsider.
“Hey, Lil, figured I’d try to work things out boss-to-boss, so you don’t have any more conflicts like last night,” the other agent said.
Seeing the way her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly and her cheeks flushed, he knew what Lily thought of several things, including the nickname, the interference, the idea of Anspaugh as her boss, and the other agent himself. Lily Fletcher was nothing if not easy to read, her emotions always visible just beneath the pretty surface.
“Last night I didn’t abandon my post, sir. Mrs. Dalton was alone…” As usual, when flustered, as she often seemed to be around him for some reason, Lily stammered and stumbled over her words. “I mean, she wasn’t alone, not for a minute. Alec Lambert was there the entire time; I’m sure he’ll verify that.”
Wyatt said nothing, merely tenting his fingers on his desk.
“Look, Blackstone, she wasn’t irresponsible. She did tell me she couldn’t do it if she didn’t get coverage,” Anspaugh said, though his tone said he begrudged having to explain-to Wyatt, of all people.
Wyatt ignored the man. “Is Agent Stokes available to be on duty all night?” he asked, wanting to make sure the logistics were covered before he made any decisions.
Lily nodded. “I just talked to her and her daughter’s fine, so she’s good to go.” Her hands fisting and unfisting by her sides, she quickly continued. “Alec and Mrs. Dalton are on their way back from the prison. He’s staying with her at the hotel until this evening; then Jackie will come at around ten to relieve him and spend the rest of the night.”
“So we’re good?” Anspaugh asked. Fortunately, the man was tunnel-visioned and didn’t ask any questions about the case they were discussing. A normal agent would at least express a passing interest, given the need for witness protection and prison visits. Anspaugh, however, saw only his own investigations, his own ambitions.
Which made Wyatt even more uncomfortable about tonight’s operation.
“There are conditions to Agent Fletcher’s involvement.”
“What conditions?” The other man’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“Lily is not a field agent. She has no experience, and I will not have her put in jeopardy during this mission.”
“Sir, I’m fine, really-”
He cut her off with an abrupt wave of his hand. “She remains off-site, an observer only, nowhere near the takedown location.”
Anspaugh rolled his eyes. “Oh, for Chrissakes, we’re talking about a pervert here, not Jack the Ripper.”
Wyatt merely lifted a brow. “Is that a no?”
The other man hesitated.
“Very well, then. I’m afraid I will not grant Agent Fletcher permission to assist.”
“Wait a minute, Blackstone,” the other man said, his neck growing distinctly red above his tight collar. “It’s not a problem. She can hang back in the surveillance van; she won’t be alone for one minute.”
Lily opened her mouth again, but Wyatt met her eye, silently telling her it was this way or no way. He already half regretted letting it go this far.
She snapped it closed again.
“Very well. Agent Fletcher, you are free to assist Agent Anspaugh tonight.”
Anspaugh beamed, apparently not even noticing Lily’s tension, the way her hands twisted in front of her and she kept her head down. He was so pleased with himself, he got up and said, “See? All good. Toldja I’d take care of ya. I’ve got a few guys wiring up the empty house down in Williamsburg right now, but we need to get there soon. Be ready to go in about thirty minutes,” before swaggering out of the room.
He hadn’t offered a handshake on his departure any more than he had on his arrival. Which only meant Wyatt wouldn’t have to reach for the hand sanitizer. His office felt grimy enough just from the agent’s used oxygen.
“Shut the door.”
Lily did so, keeping her back toward him until the latch clicked. Then for a few seconds longer. Her whole body straightened visibly before she turned around. “I was on my way in here to tell you.”
He made no effort to hide his skepticism. “Of course you were.”
“I mean it. This all got out of hand so quickly; I was just doing some computer stuff for them, a little brain-storming.” A bitter laugh escaped her. “Honestly, at first, I thought Anspaugh was just trying to hit on me and I was about to tell him to go away.”
“Which was when he dangled an actual suspect in your face.”
Appearing stricken, Lily asked, “Do you think he’s lying?” She immediately shook her head and answered for him. “No. I don’t think he is. The area fits geographically. Plus, I read the transcripts. Lovesprettyboys used the word ‘delightful’ all the time in Satan’s Playground. This supposedly young boy is using it, when no real kid ever would.”
“Even if he’s not lying, you have been.”
Lily sank into the chair. “I’m so sorry.”
At least she hadn’t tried to deny it, or downplay it as only a lie by omission. That garbage didn’t fly here, not with the stakes in their job.
“I’m serious, though, about planning to tell you. You can ask Alec. I promised him last night that I would let you know today.”
He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I don’t need to go back and forth between my people confirming their stories. That’s not the kind of office I run. Either trust is there, or it’s not.”
Her eyes closed briefly, her throat bobbing as she swallowed hard.
Not letting up on her, he pressed on. “Right now, it’s not. I’m questioning your loyalties, wondering if I can trust you.”
“You can…”
“But you obviously don’t have much trust in me if you kept this secret.”
“That’s not true,” she snapped, her chin jerking up as she reacted angrily for the first time since she’d walked into the room. “I trust you. I trust every member of this team.”
“Then why? Why did I have to find out what one of my own team members was up to by hearing it from a fool like Anspaugh?”
The steam left her as quickly as it had come on. “It’s this guy, Lovesprettyboys. That’s all; it’s this one perp. I want to stop him, Wyatt.”
She had managed to call him by his first name without prompting. Progress.
“But it’s not just wanting him stopped, is it?” he asked.
“No. It’s about me stopping him.”
Exactly as he’d expected. “Because you’ve let this become personal.”
She jerked to her feet, thrusting a frustrated hand into her blond hair, sending it spilling from its loose bun. “It’s not personal. I’m not confusing this guy with the demon from my own past. I just…”
Wyatt dropped his arms onto his desk and straightened in his chair. When Lily didn’t explain, he did it for her. “You just want to stop feeling helpless. To do something instead of having it done to you.”
Lily turned to glance at him, her lips trembling as she whispered, “Yeah.”
Glancing down, Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease away the tension and the stiffness. Also trying to put himself in the young agent’s shoes.
No, he didn’t like that she’d hidden this from him. But he couldn’t positively say he wouldn’t have acted the same way. Even someone with the power to segregate his emotions from nearly every aspect of his life probably couldn’t stand feeling so powerless, so victimized, without any chance at changing it.
For someone like Lily, who he sometimes thought was too soft to be in the bureau at all, it was utterly impossible.
“All right,” he finally said with a heavy sigh. “Go do what you have to tonight.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Don’t thank me. Just do some thinking, would you? About what you really want, where you really see yourself. Because if you can’t move past this and focus on the here and now rather than what happened to your family, then I can’t have you here working these kinds of violent crimes.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Think about it. And decide, soon, if you want to put in for a transfer. Once you are absolutely certain, I’ll support you either way.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his aching neck again. “Now go. Before I change my mind.”
She said nothing. Within a few seconds, the clicking of the door signaled she had gone, hopefully not slinking out in humiliation, but rather ready to do what he’d asked her to do: Think about her life and decide whether to start living it again.
Fortunately for Alec, after they left the prison, Sam had asked him to stop at a mall so she could pick up a few things, including the jeans and thick sweater she now had on. They were much better for his sanity, as he again sat with her in a hotel room, than if she’d still been dressed as she had been earlier.
He’d also insisted on buying her a birthday ice-cream cone, though she seemed anything but interested in celebrating. One hell of a way to spend a birthday.
“What do they call this, déjà vu all over again?” she asked with a soft sigh.
Considering he was again parked by the window, and she again across the room, he could only echo the sound.
“So are you ever going to finish telling me what Jimmy had to say this afternoon?”
He had begun filling her in about his odd conversation with the convict right after they’d left the prison a couple of hours ago. Then Lily had called to arrange tonight’s safe-house schedule, and he’d been able to think about nothing else but playing another round of try-to-avoid-sleeping-with-the-witness.
“He’s a strange guy. Plays the ‘I’m just a poor, dumb convict’ role pretty convincingly, but there’s real cunning there.”
“No kidding. But was he of any help?”
“Yes, actually, I think he was.”
“In what way?”
Leaving his window seat, Alec moved to a chair in the small kitchenette, pulling it close to the dining table. He reached for his laptop case and pulled out a notebook on which he’d jotted his thoughts during today’s interview. “I think I was the most surprised at the way he talked about his victims-at least, once you were out of earshot.”
Sam left the sofa and took the chair opposite him. “I’m not. When I talked to him the first time, I got the impression that he really looked down on the people he stole from, had no sympathy for them.” She shook her head and added, “Elderly grandmothers notwithstanding.”
Unable to resist the impulse, Alec reached out and covered one of her hands with his, squeezing lightly. “I hate like hell that you went through that nightmare today. What he said… Did it change your opinion about his claims?”
“Regarding the supposed other inmate? Maybe. It’s hard to see how he could know as much as he did.”
“Look, Sam, you said yourself this guy was good enough to bilk hundreds of people through the Internet. You really think he couldn’t find out everything he wanted to know about you and your family history? He certainly knew today was your birthday.”
“I don’t know how he found that out. His sentence forbids Internet access.”
“Sentences usually also forbid drugs, pornography, and weapons in prison. You honestly think there aren’t any? I have no doubt Flynt has at the very least found himself in the vicinity of someone who has online access and can find out anything he wants to know.”
She conceded his point with a nod.
“He really knocked you for a loop, didn’t he?” he murmured.
“I guess.”
“You feeling better now?”
“I’m fine. I was fine almost right away, once I got out of that hot room. But I didn’t want to interfere, so I didn’t even think about coming back.”
“I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t think I’d have kept Jimmy’s attention if you were there.”
“It wasn’t a hardship. Despite being a prick about women’s skirts, the warden was pretty nice to let me wait in the privacy of his assistant’s office, rather than sending me to the car. I guess he felt bad for making me keep the coat on.”
He tried to lighten the mood with a teasing smile. “And no dress code?”
“No dress code. Now, back to Jimmy?”
His smile faded immediately. “I don’t think it was just that he had no sympathy for his victims, although that was certainly true.” Alec thought about it, trying to put his impressions in words. “He seemed almost… disgusted with them, I guess, for being stupid enough to fall for his line.”
“Like they had it coming?”
“Exactly. Had a very Nietzschean philosophy that some people were predators and some were prey and that’s just the way things are. That it was no more wrong for him to steal from them than it was for a hungry wolf to cull the weakest sheep from the flock to fulfill its needs.”
“Sociopathic,” she murmured.
“Probably. He honestly saw himself as doing the world a favor by teaching these fools a lesson, even though he doubted most of them learned from it.”
“Kind of like your unsub.”
Alec nodded. “Most definitely. He has referred to his victims as fools, called them stupid.”
They both thought about it. Alec kept playing Jimmy’s words in his head, knowing there was something he had overlooked. Some natural conclusion he should be able to reach; yet it remained elusive, hiding in the corners of his mind.
“Lucky him to have found a way to lure gullible people,” Sam mused. “I bet it’s not hard for him to find people he considers stupid online.”
And just like that, something clicked. He sat very still, closing his eyes, thinking about her words. “Lucky,” he whispered. “Yes, he just sends out a blanket lure and waits for the right type of victim to respond.”
Sam seemed to realize he was talking more to himself than to her and remained silent.
“But maybe he doesn’t see it as luck. Maybe it isn’t random.”
“What?”
Alec rose from his chair and paced the room, trying to verbalize the idea he couldn’t quite nail down. “I mean, maybe he’s not just trying to find miscellaneous victims to satisfy his need to kill. He intentionally sets his lures up to be easily avoided. The scams are simple to check, the backgrounds so obviously faked. Even the crime scenes, which seem like such senseless deaths, usually have a way out.”
“So the objective…”
“Isn’t just to kill.” He placed his hands on the back of the chair he had just vacated, and gripped it. “The victims aren’t random. The means he uses to pull them in ensures that he’s getting exactly the kind of people he wants to kill, and the farther they venture into his path, the more they confirm their status as sheep to be culled. The ones he considers unworthy, stupid.”
“Like the world would be better off without them?”
“Yes!” He dropped back onto the chair, mumbling, “Darwin. He wasn’t just referring to the survival of the fittest. He is trying to help evolution along by thinning out the gene pool.”
Sam shook her head in disgust. “Unbelievable.”
“But true,” he said, nearly certain of it. He just needed a little more information to firm up his theories. “His first several victims, the ones he killed without the e-mail scams… There must have been something that attracted him to them.”
The victims hadn’t had any surface connections. They’d been from widely different backgrounds, different ages, sexes, socioeconomic groups. Yet there must have been something to swing Darwin’s big, evil eye in their direction.
Alec flipped open his laptop and opened his documents on the case. The details of each murder were here, and he refamiliarized himself with them, again acknowledging that there were no surface similarities.
Acting on a hunch, he went a step further and established an Internet connection. “We checked the backgrounds on every one of these people and found absolutely nothing that linked them. Now, I wonder if Darwin himself does,” he muttered.
Sam eyed him curiously, but he didn’t explain. Instead, he typed the name of one of the victims and the word Darwin into a search engine, and pressed enter.
The returns were almost instantaneous, and they were numerous. He scanned down the first page, glancing at each snippet, not entirely sure what he was looking for.
And then, he quite simply found it.
“Here it is,” he murmured, his heart thudding in his chest.
“What?” she asked, scooting her chair around so she could see.
Alec clicked on the link, though he didn’t need to read the entire newspaper article that came up to know what it contained.
“Oh, my God,” Sam whispered after she read the first few paragraphs.
“The Darwin Awards,” he said. “They’re not only real; the expression is commonly used to describe people who survive after doing something stupid that should have killed them.”
“Thereby cleaning up the gene pool.”
Exactly. Before their unsub had begun bringing the stupid masses right to his door via the Internet, he’d had to go out and hunt for them. He’d found them by watching news feeds from up and down the East Coast, keying on that one expression, on the word Darwin. And had, over a period of a few years, found six people to slaughter.
Alec reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone. Wyatt needed to know about this. If Alec’s hunch was right, and the other victims all had a similar Darwin Awards-type incident in their past-which a little more digging should confirm-they had another tool with which to view the psyche of the man they sought. But before he could even retrieve it, the thing rang.
“Speak of the devil,” he said as he answered the phone.
“Alec, are you near a computer?”
He tensed, hearing the concerned tone of Wyatt’s voice. “Yes.”
“Is Samantha Dalton with you?”
Wary, he replied, “Yes. She is.”
Sam looked up in curiosity, but Alec shrugged to tell her he did not yet know what the call was about.
“You need to go to her blog.”
Fuck. “Did he do it again?”
“It appears so.”
They hadn’t changed Sam’s passwords, actually hoping Darwin would hack in again, because every effort he made was another clue in finding him.
“Keep her calm, question her thoroughly, and get back in touch with me. I’ve already got Taggert and Mulrooney heading in and will put them on the road to Baltimore as soon as they arrive. You need to get some information and get back to me with names and addresses.”
“Why?” he asked, not asking specifics because he honestly didn’t want Sam to read anything into the one-sided conversation. What he really wanted to ask was, Why Baltimore? Whose names and addresses?
“You’ll understand when you read it. Just remember, keep her calm; tell her we are on our way and we already have the Baltimore police on notice.”
This was not good. “I’ll call you back in a couple of minutes.”
“No more than that,” Wyatt cautioned.
Cutting the call, Alec reached for the laptop and began typing. Sam’s gaze followed his fingers and she immediately realized what words he was typing.
“Don’t tell me he hacked me again.”
Alec didn’t respond; he simply waited, his fingers resting on the keys. As the page loaded, he realized he was holding his breath. He also realized Sam’s hand had moved over and dropped onto his leg, just above his knee. She was squeezing him, as if needing to physically grab something and hold on tight. He covered her hand with his. And the screen filled in.
“What?” Sam mumbled, obviously not understanding the words, so stark and bold, just like the last hacked-in message from Darwin.
It took Alec a split second less to figure it out. Something inside him died a little as he thought of what this meant for Sam, who seemed to have so few people in her life.
Because it appeared one of those people might soon be out of her life.
“ ‘ You’re too late to save her’?” Sam murmured. “What does he mean? I’m right here.”
Alec scrolled the screen down with a flick of his finger on the touch pad, already knowing there was more. And he was right.
So sorry, Samantha, dear, but it has to be done. Too bad she didn’t listen to you and learn a bit of caution-you did warn her about men like me, didn’t you? Do remember to avoid wearing mascara to the funeral… it won’t hold up under your tears, and you’re far too lovely to have dark smears beneath your eyes.
Sam read the words and finally grasped them. “Oh, my God.”
Alec nodded once.
“He’s gone after someone I love.”
She leaped to her feet, already racing toward the door before he even had time to stop her.
“Sam, wait. I need to know who it could be. Wyatt and the others are ready to charge to the rescue; we just need to know who the target would most likely be.”
Her expression terrified, her breaths merely short gasps, she said, “She had a date tonight with someone she met on the Internet. I did warn her, but she didn’t listen.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Alec, that psychopath has my mother.”