“Just for the same record, I like kissing you too.”
“Good to know.” He paused. “You kiss better than ‘nice.’”
She let out a choked laugh. “You do too, Holt, you do too.”
“Thank you.” His eyes turned serious. “You really want to hear about Max?”
“I really do.”
When they were back on the highway, he slid her a sideways glance. “There was a kidnapping.”
“When?”
“About five years ago. The son of a high-powered attorney was snatched from his nanny in the park. She was shot and left for dead. She survived long enough to call 911 and give us a description of the kidnapper and which direction he went. However, he was long gone by the time the search was organized. A few hours later, he made contact with the family and demanded a two-million-dollar ransom. He said no cops, not realizing the nanny had already called 911. We did our best to keep it quiet that we were involved, let the father—his name is Sam—talk to the kidnapper, et cetera. Sam talked to no one. Not even his supposed best friend, Kip Jenkins, who kept calling and coming by to check on him.” His fingers flexed around the wheel. “So, we know Jenkins had no clue that we were involved.”
“Did you suspect him?”
“Not really. There wasn’t anything about him that drew our attention.”
“Then how’d you catch him?”
“He messed up.”
“How?”
“Max was about the same build as Sam and volunteered to go in his place to make the money drop. Sam resisted at first, but Max convinced him that it was safer that way. For everyone. Only it wasn’t safe for Max.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Kip Jenkins was an excellent hunter. He sat on the building across the street, and when Max posing as Sam got out of the car, Jenkins shot him and then ran. Apparently he didn’t really care about the money. Everything was just contrived to kill Sam and get away with it. But, after he shot Max, we caught him before he could exit the building. Once Jenkins was in custody—along with the weapon containing his prints, the bullets in his coat pocket matching the bullet that killed Max—he spilled everything. He had set up the kidnapping to cause as much pain and heartache as he could for Sam before he killed him. He had no idea it was Max posing as Sam.”
“But . . . why?”
“Revenge. Sam and Jenkins’s wife were having an affair and Jenkins found out about it. Instead of just asking her for a divorce, he took revenge on the people who’d betrayed him. It didn’t hurt that with Sam gone, Jenkins would inherit his share of the partnership, giving him controlling interest and a lot of power.”
“What happened to the kid?”
Holt grimaced and looked away. “He . . .”
“He killed the kid, didn’t he?” She couldn’t keep the agony from her words.
“Yeah.”
“How awful. How old was he?”
“Nine.”
“Some days I hate people.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice soft, “the bad ones anyway. Although he did say Christopher’s death was an accident, but no one cares how he died. He died as a direct result of Jenkins and his need for revenge.”
Penny fell quiet, almost wishing she hadn’t asked. She thought about his story and determined to do whatever it took to get all the information Kip Jenkins might have on Darius Rabor.
Finally, Holt turned into the gates of the prison, flashed his badge, signed the log, and parked. He looked at her. “You ready?”
“Why not?”
“Okay, first things first. Leave your purse in the car, but bring your ID. There’s a first set of doors that will open and close behind us before the next set opens.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll have to leave my weapon in a locker and then we can proceed. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Holt led Penny through the prison security and introduced her to Bill Bolton. Bill motioned to the seat next to his as Holt exited and she let her eyes scan the monitors. They were set up much like the hospital system. He pointed to the screen. “That’s Jenkins. Holt will be entering any minute.”
Sure enough, the door opened about thirty seconds later and Holt stepped inside. “Can we hear what they’re saying?”
“No, but if Holt needs you in there, he’ll look at the camera and nod.”
Penny leaned forward. The pictures on the monitor were actually pretty good. Lipreading had never been her forte, but she was going to give it a try.
Holt sat in the chair and placed his hands on the table. Penny noted the tension in his shoulders, but his face betrayed no emotion.
His mouth moved and she thought he said, “Jenkins.”
A smile curled the prisoner’s lips, and Penny shuddered, hating the wave of fear that swept over her. That wasn’t a man she wanted to come face-to-face with. Not because she was afraid he could hurt her while she was in there, but because that was the face of a man who knew he had the upper hand.
And that terrified her.
Holt tamped down the waves of hate that wanted to rise up and crash over him. This man had killed his partner and a nine-year-old child. If he had a conscience, he didn’t let it dictate his actions.
“Thank you for coming to see me, Agent Satterfield,” Jenkins said. “I’ve been asking to see you for about a month now. It’s about time.”
“You’re not looking well, Jenkins.” In fact, Holt had thought for a moment he’d entered the wrong room. “Your color’s not that good and it looks like you’ve lost a good bit of weight. Prison doesn’t agree with you, huh?”
The man waved a hand. “I’ve adapted.”
Whatever. “You had something you wanted to tell me about Rabor?”
The man leaned back and crossed his arms. “In due time.”
Holt reined in his impatience. Jenkins wasn’t going to be hurried. “Fine,” Holt said. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to meet the woman you brought with you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you. If you want to know what I know, then you’ll bring her in here.” He coughed into a tissue, then drew in a deep breath, but the look on his face never wavered.
Holt wanted to get up, grab Penny, and walk out the front door. There was no way he wanted to expose Penny to this guy, but if he had anything that would help him stop Rabor . . . He lifted his eyes to the camera and nodded. “She’ll be here in a few minutes.”
“Excellent.”
“Seriously, what does Penny have to do with any of this?”
“I saw the news. Geneva Queen’s daughter.” He shrugged. “I’m a fan. But this isn’t about her. Penny intrigued me. Reminded me of my daughter.”
A flicker of something flashed in the man’s eyes. Sadness? Not likely. The guy was an excellent actor. “Your daughter doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
“I’m aware, thanks.”
The door opened and Penny stepped into the room. For a moment she hesitated, then lifted her chin and walked to settle into the chair next to Holt. She mirrored Holt’s posture and placed her linked hands on the table in front of her. Her eyes locked on Jenkins. “Why do you want me here?”
Not a smidge of shakiness was in her words. She kept her eyes steady and her face blank. Man, she’d missed her calling. There were so many qualities about her that would make her a great agent.
Jenkins blinked like she’d surprised him. “Hello, Penny.”
“Well?”
“I see you’ve been coached in how to respond to me.”
“Coached?” She shrugged. “Of course. But I didn’t really need coaching. I can think for myself.”
He leaned forward. “So, what are you really feeling and thinking? Knowing you’re in the presence of a killer?”
For a moment she didn’t answer and Holt tensed, trying to get his feet under him. He honestly had no idea how to handle this situation, and it had him unnerved.
“What am I feel
ing?” she finally asked. “There are a myriad of emotions. There’s disgust, sure. But also sadness that you felt like you had to do what you did. Sorrow for the lost lives—including yours—and the potential that was snuffed out due to your choices. But also curiosity as to why you want me here. As to what I’m thinking? At the moment, I’m thinking this guy is pathetic if he has to pretend to have information on a serial killer in order to get the attention he craves from people who have no desire to be in the same room with him.” She paused. “Is that what you want to hear?”
Jenkins held his poker face exceptionally well and Holt struggled to get a read. Finally, the man laughed, then coughed into the tissue again. “Well, the reason I wanted you here is quite simple. If you’re here, I can use you.”
Penny went still. “How?”
He sighed. “I’ve done some vile things in my life. I’ve willingly confessed that. I need to make amends, so to speak. And I think you can help me do that.”
Holt frowned. “What kind of amends?”
“Like you said earlier, my daughter wants nothing to do with me. I, however, would like to see her at least one more time before I die. I write her letters and I’m told she burns them. I send emails, she deletes them unopened. This is the only way I know how to possibly get her to come see me.”
“Go on.”
The man’s gaze turned back to Penny. “Darius Rabor and I became . . . friends. That’s not really the word, but I’m not sure of the right one, so we’ll just use that one for now.”
“Sure. Why not?” She held herself stiff, but her hands stayed relaxed, unmoving.
“Where are you going with this, Jenkins?” Holt asked.
“I’m getting there. Learn some patience.”
Holt held on to his tongue with effort.
“Rabor saved my life about a month after he was placed here,” Jenkins said. “After that, I owed him, you know?”
“Right. And?”
“And, he milked that for all he could. The last thing I did for him was call his girlfriend to let her know he was on the way to the hospital for surgery.”
Well, that answered how Allen had known what to do. “He was planning on escaping at some point, wasn’t he?” Holt asked.
“Yes. He was obsessed with it. Had it all worked out. Only when he started hurting real bad and the doc here said he needed gall bladder surgery, he decided to fast-forward the timeline of his escape.”
Holt was getting frustrated, but decided to let the guy keep talking.
“Rabor’s visitor, the girlfriend,” Jenkins said, “she wasn’t really his girlfriend.”
“We know.”
Surprise raised his brows. “Huh. No kidding.”
“We know exactly who was visiting. So, what do you think you have that we need?”
“Rabor communicated with me. He told me all kinds of interesting things.”
“Like what?”
A slight lift of the prisoner’s shoulder said he wasn’t ready to reveal that yet. “Like why he kills, how he picks his victims, how it makes him feel . . . those kinds of things. And I know that he’s been hiding out, healing and growing stronger with each passing day.” He paused, then tapped the table with a finger. “And I know that he has his eyes on that one.” He dipped his head at Penny.
Penny drew in a slow breath. “Why?”
“You impressed him.” He clicked his tongue. “I can see why now.”
“Enough,” Holt said. “Do you know where he is?”
“No. I know you don’t want to believe that, but it’s true. I can tell you that his sister would do anything to help him. Not out of any special love for him, but she’s scared to death not to. More scared of him than being arrested for aiding and abetting.”
Understandable.
“Rabor’s ‘girlfriend’ was a guy named Joel Allen,” Jenkins said.
“Again, nothing we don’t already know,” Holt said.
“Wow, you guys are more efficient than I’ve given you credit for.”
“You’re here,” Holt said. “I’d say we’re efficient enough.”
“Touché.”
That weird little smile curved his lips once more. And once more, Holt wanted to wipe it from his face. He resisted. “Talk, man. If you’re not going to help, quit wasting our time.”
Jenkins narrowed his eyes and his nostrils flared slightly, but he nodded. “Fine. Here are my conditions. I will be totally open and honest with you and provide you everything I know about Rabor, but I want something in return.”
This was the moment Holt had been waiting for. “What?”
“I want you—the two of you—to convince my daughter to come visit me.”
Holt didn’t say anything, he simply stared at the man.
“That’s why you wanted me here,” Penny said. “Because if I can say that I was in the same room with you and wasn’t uncomfortable, then maybe your daughter would think she could come.”
The killer’s eyes turned to hers. “She’s the same age as you are. Almost to the day.”
Holt bristled. The man had been researching Penny?
“You’re very smart, aren’t you?” Jenkins asked Penny.
“Yes. I am.”
He smiled again. This time it was simply a smile of amusement, and maybe even a flicker of hope that he’d come up with a plan that would garner him a visit with his only child. “I didn’t kill that little boy on purpose,” he said. “I was going to let him go home to his mother as soon as Sam was dead. I had nothing against the child or his mother. I actually felt sorry for her. She was as clueless as I was about our cheating spouses.” His gaze locked on Holt’s. “And . . . I had nothing against your partner. I thought he was Sam.”
“The child’s name was Christopher,” Holt said, doing his best to keep his emotions in check. “His mother’s name is Lillian. My partner’s name was Max. All lives—and the lives of those who loved them—you traumatized because of your desire for revenge.”
“Yes.” Jenkins cleared his throat. “And I have my regrets—which is why I’ve asked to see you now.”
An awkward silence fell between them and Holt let out a slow breath, ready to get out of there. “Your daughter has sworn never to visit you. Ever. I seriously doubt that Penny and I can talk her into it.”
“Then I guess I’ll carry my information to the grave. The doctor says I could have a few months, or it could be any day.”
Holt frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Pancreatic cancer,” Penny murmured. Both men looked at her and she shrugged. “An educated guess. The jaundice, the saggy skin from what was probably recent and rapid weight loss, and I’m sure there are other symptoms that medication may be helping. But it’s getting worse daily, isn’t it?”
“Like I said, you’re very smart.”
Penny leaned forward. “You’ve been waiting for this moment for a while, haven’t you?”
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Holt swung his gaze to Penny. “What are you talking about?”
Penny kept her eyes on the man in front of her. Knowing his illness—and how weak he most likely was at the moment—removed a lot of her fear. But she still didn’t want to underestimate him. “He’s been trying to get his daughter to visit. If Rabor escaped, it was only a matter of time before it got back to you that the two of them were . . . friends. You’d come needing information and”—she spread her hands—“let the bargaining begin.” She sat back and glanced at Holt. “The only question is, do we let him get away with it?” She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure I buy the whole needing to make amends thing. Does he really have anything worth bargaining with?”
The only change in Holt’s expression was the slight widening of his eyes before his lashes lowered to cover his surprise.
For a moment, Jenkins’s nostrils flared, then he laughed. “You remind me so much of Carol. It’s almost like I’ve been blessed by a visit from her.”
“Well, you
haven’t,” Penny said. “And you won’t be unless you give us something right now.”
Penny’s gut churned, but she refused to be the first one to look away. The staring contest went on for several moments before Jenkins let out a low sigh.
“Well, well . . .” He nodded. “All right, then. Rabor had a woman he was seeing on a regular basis—and I don’t mean that idiot Allen who dressed up like a woman. Rabor had all kinds of female groupies. You guys wouldn’t believe the letters he’d get.” He studied Holt. “Well, yeah, I guess you would. But anyway, hundreds of letters a week from women begging him to let them visit. He’d add the ones who sounded interesting to his list of ten ‘friends’ and take off the ones he didn’t want to see again. Then he’d replace them with the newbies. The man held court every chance he got with one woman or another. Even some men who wanted to come express their admiration for his . . . work.”
Penny managed to keep the grimace from her face. Barely.
“But this one woman came once a month. Unlike Joel Allen, who came just about every time the door opened.”
“Who was the woman?”
“I don’t know, but she was different than the regular groupies. She kept her head down and didn’t make eye contact with anyone. She also wore a wig and changed her appearance every so often, but I could tell it was the same person.”
“But she had to show her ID,” Holt said. “She had to be cleared to visit.”
“And she had an ID to match each look, according to Rabor. I think she had three different identities. He admired her, said she was a brilliant little mouse.” He paused. “Rabor never said much of anything else about her, but I think the three of them—Rabor, Allen, and the woman—were all working out an escape plan for him. He said my part was just to call the number he gave me when the time came.”
“Joel Allen.”
“Right. He said Allen was such an easy target and that grooming him was as easy as taking candy from a baby. Said Allen would do anything for Rabor.”
“Including kill for him?”
Jenkins hesitated, then clicked his tongue. “Oh, yeah. The two of them were interesting to watch. Rabor told him exactly his process, explained what he did and how he did it. Each time he came to visit, he had ‘homework,’ and each time he returned, he had to give a detailed report to Rabor. And Rabor would give him a grade. Look at the footage, you’ll see what I mean.”
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