Dark Deeds

by Anne Marie Becker

  They were watching him, which meant they’d figured out who he was. It was fortuitous that his mother had asked him to pick up groceries on the way home from Hank’s memorial. And that he’d decided to check on Eve, too, in her new location. Fate was on his side, but was Becca? Was her comment a lure? An idea sprouted—one that would test Becca’s loyalty and bind them as partners forever. If she passed his test, their bond would be unbreakable.

  Luckily, for what Patrick had in mind, all he needed was his laptop and video camera, which he always carried with him. Escaping their trap didn’t keep the anger at bay, though. The police would now be watching the house, watching his mom, watching everywhere Patrick had ever been...not that he’d be any of those places from now on. He didn’t like being the hunted, and he damn well didn’t deserve it, but it wouldn’t be for long.

  Especially now that he realized what the finale for his documentary would be. It would all be over in twenty-four hours.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Thursday, 6:35 a.m.

  Becca’s apartment

  Becca watched the glow of sunrise creep across the bed, and absorbed what calm she could from Diego’s body curved protectively behind hers. She sensed he hadn’t slept, either, but he simply held her in the quiet, seeming to know without her telling him that she needed comfort. There had been no news of Eve or Patrick’s location. Despite Becca’s comment on Eve’s blog, inviting him to become her partner, Patrick hadn’t contacted her again. But he might not even have access to the internet.

  She hated that Patrick had control. She hated even more that she had no clue how to pass his tests, or prove she could be a good partner. Joyce Bigelow hadn’t been helpful in the least, swearing to the police that she had no clue where her son could be. But she was playing the grieving mother to the hilt, like a queen diva.

  Diego shifted against her and pressed his mouth to her temple. “Good morning, sunshine.”

  She turned in his arms to face him across the pillow. “I hope so.”

  His eyes searched hers. “It will be. We’ll find Eve. Patrick will contact you today, I’m sure of it. He wants nothing more than to impress you.”

  It was how far he would go to make that impression that worried her. Would he kill Eve? Was she already dead? Patrick seemed to have disappeared into the ether. Whatever he had planned, it sounded like he’d learned from the best. In the middle of the night, she’d stared at the dark ceiling, replaying the odd conversation with Patrick’s mother.

  Becca sighed. “What do you think Joyce meant when she said she’d done everything for her son and now he was paying her back? What kind of mother encourages her son to kill for her?”

  Diego tucked a hair behind her ear. “A sick one. But she’s not in the majority. Don’t lose sight of the good in the world. Like what we have.” Desire darkened his eyes.

  Yes, they had something good. But it would die a painful death unless Becca could find the courage to tell him everything. There were things she had done, back when she’d tried to find evidence against James. Things that could hurt Diego.

  Diego pressed another soothing kiss to her cheek, then her mouth, and her doubts receded under a tide of longing. The memories of last summer were strong...and her feelings even stronger than before. The walls around her heart had been razed, allowing her the comfort of leaning on someone. On the other hand, there was nothing but pain if Diego couldn’t forgive all that she’d done.

  What would happen in just a couple days, when he returned to his life and she returned to hers? She wanted to voice the question. Then again, she didn’t want to hear the answer. She didn’t want him to have to choose between her or his career. What kind of future could they have if he was forced to make that kind of choice? And how could he make the choice unless she gave him all of the information?

  Her mind went to the DVD she’d seen in Patrick’s basement library. Even now, was someone at the police station viewing the evidence of her gullibility? She and Diego would join them in the viewing soon, as they’d been invited to work with the CPD, but how would she explain that tape? How would he feel about her after seeing the low she’d sunk to?

  Because you’re worth it.

  Would he still think that after he knew the truth?

  Diego’s hand drifted lower, his fingers splaying across her belly. She lost herself to the moment, trying not to think it could be their last. His lips blazed a trail down her neck, stopping to lavish her nipples with equal attention before moving lower still. But she couldn’t stand the thought of him giving her pleasure when she was still holding back.

  With a nudge at his shoulder, she shifted him onto his back and reached for a condom, then rolled it into place. He hissed in pleasure, but didn’t seem content to let her take her time. She took his hands in hers, interlacing their fingers, and slowly sank onto him. He watched her face, his own tense with the effort to prolong the pleasure. The look in his eyes was so intense and honest that she bent down to kiss him, hiding her guilt from him. She increased the rhythm, letting it carry both of them away, letting herself forget.

  After, as they lay there, catching their breaths, Diego slapped her thigh gently. “Get up and moving. We’re going back to the correctional center.”

  Confused by the rapid change in subject, Becca watched him jump up and head into the bathroom. The sound of running water started a moment later.

  She joined him in the bathroom. “The correctional center?”

  He tugged her into the shower with him. “I was thinking...if Joyce won’t talk, and we can’t talk to Eve, and Patrick isn’t taking the bait, who else knows Patrick well enough to share his secrets?”

  “Tony?” She scrubbed her skin a little harder at the thought of having to face him again.

  Several minutes later, showered and dressed, she checked her emails and found one from Lorena with an updated profile for Patrick Bigelow. They’d given her what new information they had yesterday.

  “I don’t know when that woman sleeps,” Becca said. “She apparently interviewed Joyce while the police had her in custody last night.”

  Diego looked up from where he’d been checking his own emails on his phone. “She’s just as dedicated as you are.”

  “Munchausen by proxy,” Becca read aloud. “I’ve heard of that...where a person earns attention by hurting someone in their care, and continues the cycle because it’s rewarding. According to Lorena, Joyce used to make Patrick sick when he was a boy, just so she could take care of him and get sympathy from her friends, family and hospital staff.”

  “Except this is by proxy, squared,” Diego said. “Patrick kills patients in his mother’s care so that she gets attention and sympathy. What does he get out of it?”

  Becca read more of Lorena’s email, then summarized. “Joyce Bigelow suffers from severe depressive episodes. Can’t be easy to live with a mother who struggles with that. Joyce pursued a career as a nurse because she enjoyed that environment.” She glanced at Diego. “That explains the creepy nurse dolls at their home. Being a caregiver was rewarding, and then she craved the attention more often, like an addict. It became a vicious circle. When Patrick grew up and beyond her control and she didn’t have that Munchausen-by-proxy outlet anymore, Patrick somehow figured it was his duty to fill in.”

  “He learned from the best,” Diego muttered.

  “He gave her what she needed, playing the dutiful son.” Becca’s stomach twisted. How many people had these two hurt? “Must be why he wants to be a dutiful partner to me now...he’s learned to interact with the women in his life by taking care of them in this manner. He learned at an early age to give people what they want so they’d love him.”

  “He wants you to accept him. To love him.”

  At the end of the email were Damian’s orders. “Our goal is to check out the hospice where Joyce works...worked,” Becca corrected. “Surely, she’ll be fired if she had anything to do with her son’s murderous tendencies.”

  “Imagi
ne being her patient,” Diego said.

  “We don’t have to.” Becca had spied many DVDs in Patrick’s collection that had been labeled Golden Oaks Hospice.

  Thursday, 9:00 a.m.

  Golden Oaks Hospice

  The head nurse on duty at Golden Oaks Hospice aimed her smiles at Diego and fluttered her lashes ever-so-slightly, so Diego took charge of interviewing her.

  Becca wandered away to give him time to question Mary, leaving Diego disappointed. He would have liked to see some response from Becca to another woman’s interest in him. A bit of fire, a flash of jealousy. Something that told him she was feeling something for him...something deeper, akin to what he was feeling for her.

  Or maybe he was alone in his feelings. He’d been thankful to be by Becca’s side when they’d entered the Bigelow house. The thought of Patrick going after Becca without Diego around to protect her...

  Diego refocused as Mary flashed him a mouthful of perfect teeth in a wide smile. “What did you want to know about Joyce?” she asked.

  “Whatever you can tell me.”

  “She’s a good nurse. Attentive to her patients, always on time, and personable enough.”

  “I’m sure you trained her well.”

  Mary seemed to soak in the praise. “She was here years before I was.”

  “Have you noticed anything odd about the number of deaths among her patients?”

  “For the most part, it’s not surprising when someone here dies. We’re here to give them care and support in their final days or months.” Mary tapped her lips with fingernails that were neatly trimmed and lacked polish. “But there were a couple times I thought her patients died before their time. It’s just so hard to tell. Death is unpredictable, even when it’s near, you know?”

  Diego flashed to his niece, killed way too young. For no understandable reason. And Patrick, killing James and taking Eve...sometimes the mind was twisted enough to try to make death do its bidding. He made a wordless sound of agreement.

  “But Hank...his passing was rather sudden, I felt.”

  “Hank?”

  “He died earlier this week. Joyce and her son came to his memorial yesterday. In fact, they did a lot of the planning. Very thoughtful, and helped the family out a lot. They were amazed at Patrick’s video tribute.”

  Diego’s skin went cold. Patrick and Joyce had found ready-made victims here. The patients were easy targets.

  After a few more minutes of interviewing Mary, and some time with the patients who’d had Joyce as their nurse—who all sang her praises as very attentive, if somewhat quiet and moody at times—Diego found Becca sitting with an elderly woman in the communal living room area, laughing with her over something.

  Becca looked up at him. “Done already?”

  “Talked to everyone except this lovely lady.” His gaze moved to the woman in the recliner. “Seems like I’ve been missing all the fun in here.”

  Becca’s eyes twinkled. “You were. This is Virginia. She’s one of Joyce’s.”

  “Have been for a while now,” Virginia said. “Outlived all the doctors’ predictions.” Her triumph was clear, as was the reason she had survived whatever it was that was trying to kill her. She had laughter creased in every line of her face. “Joyce is an excellent nurse. Her son, however, is creepy as hell.”

  “We were just starting to talk about Patrick,” Becca explained to Diego.

  “He seemed nice enough, at first. The third or fourth time he visited, though, he got a little weird.”

  “How so?”

  “Felt like he was interviewing me for a position or something. Wanted my life story. I’ve been talking to the others around here, and he admitted this himself... He’s documenting the good in life.”

  “What seemed off about that?” Becca asked.

  “He was also asking a lot of personal questions, asking me to unburden my conscience, whatever the hell that means...which is one of the reasons, I suppose, that I felt weird about the interview.” She looked contemplative. “It was almost like he was too eager to dig up some dirt or something.”

  “What kinds of questions was he asking?”

  “He asked about how I grew up...what I did with my life.” She cackled again. “Guess a mother of five and grandmother of twelve wasn’t impressive enough, though. Kept asking for more. Almost felt like he wanted me to be a superhero, supervillain, or make something up, whether it was good or bad. He wanted a good story.”

  A few minutes later, Becca stood in the hall with Diego and shivered. He reached out to stroke her arm. “You okay?”

  “I can’t help but think that woman’s so-called boring life saved her. I read through a few of those obituaries Lorena sent with the profile this morning, and Einstein’s notes.” He’d been sending them quick summaries as he viewed Patrick’s video library at the CPD. “Either this area of the United States was heavily populated with everyday heroes or Patrick had a way of embellishing.”

  “He should be a speechwriter for a politician.”

  “Yeah. Instead, he’s preying on these poor people.” She glanced back toward Virginia’s room.

  “We’ll stop him.” He ran his hand up and down her arm again. “He’ll soon realize he’s not the grim reaper he thinks he is. Or the Darwinian scientist. Or whatever hell other game he’s playing.”

  She went still as a chime indicated her phone had a text. She looked up at him with dread. He’d do anything to wrap this case up and bring the warmth and energy back into those vibrant brown eyes.

  He squeezed her arm in support. “Want me to read it this time?”

  “Could you?” She reached into her pocket and handed him her phone.

  “Ten p.m., alone. Meet me where it all began.” His jaw clenched. He was sick of this guy’s games.

  “Alone?” she repeated.

  “We won’t let it go down that way.”

  She blew out a breath. “I don’t get it. Where did it all begin?”

  “We have until ten o’clock tonight to figure that out.”

  Thursday, 2:00 p.m.

  Metropolitan Correctional Center

  Without preamble, Becca shoved the carton toward Tony. “This is the last time you’ll see me.”

  Every instinct told her there was no more time for Eve. This was her last shot at getting important information from Tony. Patrick had given her a deadline of ten tonight to figure out where he was, where it all began, and she wasn’t going to let Eve down.

  Tony grinned. “That’s what they all say. Then they play hard to get.”

  She tried to look unaffected by the monster in front of her. Over Tony’s shoulder, Becca met Diego’s gaze and he gave her a subtle nod of encouragement. Again, he was hanging in the background, letting her handle the situation. Trusting her. He shouldn’t trust her. She’d lied to him...or, she’d kept the final piece of the truth from him.

  “I need to know what else you shared with Patrick.”

  “Patrick has all the interviews. Ask him.”

  “Yeah, well, Patrick’s on the run.”

  Tony snorted. “Little shit. I should have known he couldn’t stand the heat. We had a deal.” Tony’s eyes lit with a light that gave Becca the shivers, though she controlled them. “Did you find the recordings?”

  “He had all kinds of DVDs, all kinds of people. To which recordings are you referring?”

  Some of the light in his gaze dimmed and his smile faded altogether. “The ones of me.”

  “Huh. I don’t recall seeing any of you.” Becca frowned at Diego. “Do you?”

  “Nope.” Diego acted bored.

  “That fuck.” Tony slammed a fist on the table. He seemed to vibrate with anger now. “We had a deal. He was going to make me famous. Said he’d get several million to air my story.”

  “Hope you got that in writing,” Becca said.

  Her blasé attitude only fueled Tony’s rage. She caught a glimpse of the violent man who’d killed many women but she held her ground. “I ga
ve him what he wanted. He’ll pay if he doesn’t come through.”

  “What’d you give him? What did he ask for besides information?”

  “Evidence.” The cold smirk was back. “Something concrete that proved the Circle was involved in Damian Manchester’s daughter’s disappearance.”

  Becca felt the air squeeze from her lungs. This was it, the evidence Damian sought. What she’d been searching for over the past few months. “Did he pay for it in cigarettes?”

  The grin widened, his gold teeth flashing. “Nah. He did a job for me. Offed a prostitute who was a loose end.”

  “Fanta.”

  Tony nodded.

  Becca’s gaze met Diego’s and she swallowed to clear her mind again. “What did you give him in return?” she asked.

  “I told him about a storage room I have. Mementos and shit. Guy’s gotta reminisce every once in a while, right?” He glanced around the drab interview room as if recalling where he was.

  “And what were you reminiscing about?”

  “The women...the girls. And how we did it back in those days.”

  “The Cattle Call?”

  Tony’s eyes widened. “Guess you’re smarter than you look. I gotta tell you, that’s a relief. I’d like to think it took a smart person to take me down.”

  “Tell me about how you did it when you worked for the Circle.”

  “We’d take a few of them at a time, usually two or three, brand them and put them in cells. Boss had a sweet set-up. He’d charge hundreds of thousands of dollars for men with certain...discerning...tastes to log in to a secret website where they could view the girls...then bid on the merchandise. The guys and I had a hell of a lot of fun making the girls act the part. It was like a game show. I figured Patrick would like that part, since he’s so big on story details, survival of the fittest, and all kinds of life purpose shit that doesn’t mean anything. These girls had to appear fit to be bought or die trying.”

  At least that explained how Patrick had known about the branding, and why he’d branded Fanta. Tony had talked about the Cattle Call, and the Circle’s evil deeds. “So he proved his loyalty to you by killing Fanta. He branded her for you.”