Chapter 18 #2
“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 with time 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 one weakness 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.
“The way Samuel laughed was so… terrifying. There was a hollowness to the sound, as if he wasn’t really the person controlling his laugh at all.”
“I noticed,” I gritted out. “He had the look of someone under complete control.”
“That’s no way of living life. I almost feel sorry for him. What if he didn’t do anything wrong?”
“Let’s just say he likely knew what he was taking the blame for, Alexia.”
“I guess.” She groaned and closed her eyes briefly.
“My mother convinced me to see a psychiatrist when I couldn’t sleep after a few months.
I did, at least for a little while. Our insurance didn’t cover it and the expense became too significant for my family to afford.
But before the sessions ended, the shrink offered me two pieces of decent advice to carry into the future. ”
“What were they?”
“One was to keep a diary of my thoughts, ideas that came into my head. She said doing so would help me work through the trauma on my own. I did that for a few years until life just began to take over. The second was to live life. Not to overthink it. Just live. Just enjoy the moment because you never knew when it could be your last. Maybe a little cliché, but after all this time, I think she was right. All I’ve done is to bury myself in my work.
I think maybe because my guilt for surviving was too much to bear, much like you use your books to work through the guilt of not catching the killer sooner. ”
When a few seconds of my silence had passed, she finally turned her head toward me. In her eyes there was hope. Maybe that she could learn to enjoy life or that I could. Hell, maybe both.
“Sounds like decent advice. Did you keep the diary?”
“I did. I pulled it out the other night hoping to find a clue. But you know what? What I wrote on the pages was a reflection of who I was at the time. But I’m not that scared little girl any longer.
And neither Samuel nor his brother can hurt me any longer.
Who knows. Maybe I’ll now learn to enjoy doing something a little reckless. ”
Grinning, I lifted my drink in admiration. Yeah. She was much stronger than I was. Wiser too. And certainly more beautiful. “Maybe I can tame you.”
Her scowl was perfectly adorable.
She threw back the remainder of her wine. After placing the glass on the coffee table, she stood and with a single shudder headed toward the back door. Without asking, she pulled it open.
I shifted on the seat, allowing my gaze to drift down the long line of her neck and back to her legs as she leaned against the doorjamb. I couldn’t help but think how much you could learn about someone by taking a long drive with them.
Even remaining quiet you could discover various talents or hidden gems about another person.
With the stunning women standing in front of me, I was given a private concert during the periods of conversational silence.
She continually altered her music selection, highlighting her eclectic tastes, which I’d found amusing at first.
Then I’d been amused hearing her frustration in making a selection.
But after she started humming, I was enthralled, the time taken on the drive going by far too quickly.
Maybe she hadn’t realized she’d started singing the words.
The volume was low and half the time she had her eyes closed, resting her head, but I’d heard every word, enjoying the melodies.
Perfectly in tune.
Perfectly perfect, just like the woman who’d suffered so much but was perhaps the strongest person I’d ever met.
“You have an incredible pool. Do you ever use it?”
I took a deep breath, trying to remember. “Never.”
She laughed softly as if I’d just released a tremendous secret. When she looked over her shoulder, allowing me to see her silhouette in the limited light of the room, my cock pressed against my zipper. I was completely uncomfortable, forced to shift in my seat.
“Well, then I guess you need to break it in.”
“I’m not much of a swimmer.” I’d originally wanted the pool, which had been expertly positioned on the property, with three sides a literal cliff leading to the beach, the area of the house leading to it surrounded by an iron fence.
The view was spectacular and the water appeared as if flowing off the edge into the abyss.
At night with the shimmering light, the backdrop of the ocean and the sky, the setting was serene in its privacy.
“That makes you a party pooper.” Every time I thought I had her figured out, she surprised me once again. This time by dragging off her shirt and with a little dramatic flair, tossing it aside. “Maybe you need to learn to live a little recklessly.”
She didn’t wait for me, nor did she invite me to follow her. Seconds later, she disappeared. As soon as she did, I polished off my drink, placing the glass on the table with a hard thud. If she thought she was going to get away from me that easily, she had another think coming.
I glanced at the weapon, toying with the idea of the fucker trying anything while we were in the house. That wasn’t the Python Killer’s game. He preferred to lure his victims with this poetic bullshit he doled out. Meanwhile, my guess was he was some conservative rich guy in real life.
Nah. He wasn’t ready to let his guard down. The game was just commencing.
As I walked outside, I rubbed the fingers of my right hand. Not only were they aching from when I’d enjoyed strangling Samuel, they were also itching to be used for another spanking.
I didn’t see her at first, which unnerved the hell out of me.
When my nerves were about to the frazzled state, I finally noticed she was standing on the opposite end of the pool. She’d removed her clothes and in the stream of moonlight, I thought her to be the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.
What I hadn’t fully understood until seeing her again was how much the job had cut from my soul. Too much. I’d gone from believing I could right wrongs and get the bad guys off the street to realizing not all people within law enforcement were decent or even lawful.
Many were corrupt, using their power and standing within the system to better themselves or to hide their proclivities.
I’d become a disillusioned, angry man who’d parlayed disappointment and anger, bitterness and hatred for the system I’d once loved into words on a page.
Words filled with anger and remorse, using the emotions that were pent up inside to sell books instead of healing my fractured soul. Until I’d believed I didn’t have one any longer.
Those words and that rage had made me a lot of money, but had left me cold, dead inside.
I’d gone from being a law-abiding savior to an assassin without thinking. Did I have any regrets?
No.
None.
Maybe I was more like the killer than I’d care to admit to anyone.
Exhaustion had become my way of life, not excitement. A dull ache that never wavered. Never left.
The moment she’d walked back into my life, I’d begun to feel something once again, something other than the darkness eclipsing my soul.
As the hunger grew, so did my need to protect her.
At all costs.
No matter the consequences.