Denker squinted as if searching through memories. “Name sounds familiar.”
Frazer smiled, pretending to be pleased the guy had heard of him. “I took over from SSA Hanrahan when he retired. I’m glad that you agreed to meet with us before you, er…hmm.” Frazer coughed. As if they’d been the one to request this meeting, not the other way around. “I was, er, hoping to ask you a few questions to use in my criminal psychology lectures.”
Denker looked both flattered and irritated. He ignored Frazer—because as egotistical as Denker was, he was on a mission and that mission was saving his own ass. He didn’t think Frazer could get him what he needed. His mistake.
“Talk to the governor, Art. Get the death penalty quashed and I’ll even mark assignments for aspiring Feds.” He nodded toward Frazer like he was a mook. As if they needed him to be experts on aberrant behavior when the guy was a textbook predator: narcissistic, calculating, manipulative. No empathy, no remorse, no conscience.
Frazer already knew what made Ferris Denker tick. Having women helpless and at his mercy. Causing pain until he ejaculated from the pure sadistic thrill of it. Denker thought that the fact he tortured and killed to classical music made him a more sophisticated killer. Frazer didn’t care about the soundtrack, he just wanted justice for the victims, and maybe a little payback.
Hanrahan shook his head sadly. “You know I don’t have that sort of power, Ferris.” He opened his hands wide. “The judge made the decision and the appeals process is finished. Time to pay your dues.”
Denker’s gaze shifted between them before finally settling on his own fingers which he stroked over one another in a way that made the hair on Frazer’s neck stand taut. “What if there were other crimes?”
Hanrahan shook his head and shifted to lean forward over the wide desk. “You had your chance to come clean. It’s over.”
“What if I tell you where the bodies are buried?” Denker asked sharply. “You only found five. I confessed to ten.”
Frazer tilted his head. “We’ve found your dump site, Mr. Denker.”
Ferris’s eyes flashed with anger. Something about his little scheme hadn’t gone entirely to plan. Interesting. “You found one of them,” he said tightly.
“Do you know who we found?” Frazer asked curiously. What would the guy admit to? Could his aim be getting involved in a conspiracy to murder charge, where they had to keep him alive to catch and convict the other killer? Was that Denker’s game? If so, would he give up the other player? And did the other player realize this?
Frazer’s first priority was getting killers off the street.
“I know where you were looking. I watch the news.” Again Denker dismissed him and concentrated on Hanrahan.
Maybe he wasn’t ready to give up his accomplice yet. Maybe there really was honor between serial killers; or maybe Ferris Denker didn’t know a damned thing.
“How many more are there?” Hanrahan demanded.
Denker’s eyes flicked high left. “At least three sites.” He was telling the truth.
Frazer hid his revulsion. If Denker saw it, he’d use it.
“How many more victims are buried out there, Ferris? Where are they buried?” Hanrahan asked.
Denker shrugged a bony shoulder. It was difficult to imagine this man being strong enough to overpower all those women, but he had been. Had he worked alone? Was this current killer an old associate? A new disciple? He needed Parker to work his magic and figure out how the two were communicating.
“We’ll need more to go on than the vague indication that more bodies are out there,” said Hanrahan impatiently. “Neither the state’s attorney nor the governor will roll over for vague promises. They’re not idiots and South Carolina doesn’t grant stays of execution unless there’s a miracle—you know that.”
“Fine.” Denker sat up straighter in his chair, scenting his prize. “Bring me a map. I’ll show you where one of them is buried—as a show of good faith.”
“Not sure bartering the bodies of women you murdered for extra time on this Earth will get you through the gates of Heaven,” Hanrahan muttered.
“A map of where?” Frazer asked, ignoring Hanrahan’s comment.
“North Carolina. There are woods out near Maysville.”
Frazer nodded to the guard who left to fetch a map. Another guard stood at the door.
“How often did you visit the Outer Banks, Mr. Denker?”
The guy was smiling because he thought he was getting what he wanted. “Quite a few times. It’s a pretty area.”
“Did you drive Route 6 all the way to Ocracoke?”
Denker nodded, chains jingling.
Ocracoke was only accessible by ferry. Alarm bells started to beep inside Frazer’s head, but getting a few geographical questions wrong wasn’t proof of anything. He wanted to probe more but couldn’t risk showing his hand. “You have any friends out there?”
Denker’s eyes sharpened on Frazer. “There was a time when I had a lot of friends.”
Denker had been a popular guy. Lots of female friends. Lots of drinking buddies. They’d all been shocked when his crimes had been revealed.
“Any of them ever visit you in here?” Frazer asked.
Denker reared back in his chair and sneered. “I can see why this guy got the job, Hanrahan. He figured out people actually visit guys like me in jail. Hell, he should read my fan mail. I’ve had two proposals since I’ve been in the joint. I thought about accepting one of them, but no conjugal visits so…what’s the point?” The smirk returned. “But you already know all that, don’t you?”
Frazer unleashed a little of his own predator in his return smile. “Don’t you miss it, Ferris? Doesn’t it piss you off knowing there are other men like you, only smarter and more successful because they never got pulled over for something as dumb as a broken taillight? Doesn’t it burn your gut they’re still out there enjoying themselves while you’re stuck in here, jacking off with all the other losers?”
Denker’s eyes went hard, black. Little orbs of evil.
Evil didn’t scare Frazer. He enjoyed cuffing it and locking it in prison to rot or die. Death was easier than living in a hellhole like this for some of them, and he was fine with that, too.
“I’ve got some happy memories to sustain me.” Denker shrugged.
“Vivid fantasies too, huh? Must bite that you can’t act them out.”
A tic worked in Denker’s jaw, revealing his growing agitation. The guard came back with a map and spread it out on the table before them. The look Denker threw him said he’d finally figured out Frazer wasn’t the weak link in this chain. “I’ll need to be released from my shackles.” He indicated his bound hands.
Frazer nodded to the guard.
Frazer watched him carefully, but the guy wasn’t a threat to them. He might be able to get a punch in, but Frazer was bigger and not afraid to fight back. Denker liked victims he could control and dominate. Submissive women he could torture without fear of reprisal. On top of that, he wouldn’t risk attacking federal agents or a guard because that could interfere with any appeal or request for clemency. Goading the sonofabitch into a mistake was the least Frazer could do.
Denker shook out his wrists like they hurt and picked up the marker the guard had provided.
“You never admitted to being abused as a child. You could have used it in your defense,” Frazer suggested.
Hanrahan sent him a warning look but Denker was sentenced to die in twenty-two days and time was running out. For him.
“I wasn’t abused. I was born this way,” Denker muttered.
“I don’t believe you.”
Denker’s eyes glittered. “What would you know about it? Were you some poor little boy whose daddy couldn’t keep his hands off his ass at night?”
Frazer kept his expression mildly amused. “I know it wasn’t your father because he died when you were very young. I mean it could have been him but—”
“My father was a good man!”
Frazer raised his brows. “Maybe an uncle, then? Scout leader? Teacher?”
The man’s eyes reacted almost imperceptibly to the last word.
Teacher. “Is that where you met your friend? Your killing buddy who was smart enough to keep his car in good repair?”
Denker’s smile turned ugly, clearly enjoying knowing something Frazer didn’t. Playing mind games, but all he said was, “I’m obviously not the only one good at fantasy.”
Frazer leaned over the table. Denker stared intently at the map, as if trying to pinpoint the exact spot he was talking about.
“If you give up your partner, I’ll talk to the governor,” Frazer said quietly.
“I don’t have a partner.” Denker still didn’t look up.
“Why are you so keen to protect him? Is it your abuser? You don’t have to be scared of him any longer, Ferris.”
When Denker finally reacted, his eyes burned with rage. Interesting. “I’m not scared of anyone.”
“Well, it can’t be for love or friendship—you’re a psychopath, you don’t know what love is, and your idea of friendship is probably not sadistically torturing someone to death.”
Hanrahan tensed beside him.
Denker stilled, then smiled a cold reptilian smile. “You’d be surprised.” He stabbed his finger on the map. “There. I don’t remember her name. She was my first and I made a lot of mistakes. She didn’t die easy, but she sure as hell was a lot of fun. Consider her a freebie.” His lips grew tight with regret. “Tell the governor I’ll reveal where all the bodies are of everyone I killed if I get my sentence commuted to life.”
Frazer dragged the map across the table. “If I find anything there I’ll make an appointment to see the governor—but you know how busy these people can be.”
A grin spread over Denker’s face that made Frazer’s gut clench. “I’d suggest sooner rather than later.”
* * *
IZZY HAD JUST got out of the shower after taking Barney for a run on the beach when Kit walked into her bedroom unannounced. Izzy’s wet hair was wrapped in a towel, which kept threatening to topple off her head as she pulled on her jeans. Her heart bounced painfully against her ribs in fright at the intrusion. At least she didn’t lunge for her gun.
“After I apologize to that bitch Miranda,” Kit’s voice reeked of venom, “I want to go see Jesse in the hospital. Then I’m going to work my shift at the diner.”
“You sure you want to work today?” Izzy asked, surprised.
Kit’s face was stern. Whatever vulnerability she’d shown last night had vanished. “I’ve been thinking about Helena, a lot. I figure this is what she’d want me to do. Talk to Jesse. Keep my chin high. Ignore the bullshit princesses. Graduate high school and get the fuck off this island, the same way you did. I never understood why you left before. Now I do.”
Izzy hoped Kit never discovered the whole truth.
“I’ll drive you to the police station and the hospital and drop you off at the diner. You finish at ten, right?” Izzy spoke quickly. “I’ll pick you up after work. I want to know you’re safe.”
“I thought that’s why you put the tracker app on my phone?”
Izzy grimaced. Busted.
“Look,” Kit said patiently. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m seventeen and I have to start looking out for myself. I’ll park in front of the diner, and I’ll make sure Sal walks me out.”
Sal owned the diner.
“What if Sal’s the killer?” Izzy hated to bring it up, but why ignore the possibility?
“If he is then he has all afternoon and evening to do his worst. Plus, I’ll tell him I told the FBI he was walking me to my car. Short of having a protection detail it’s the best I can do.”
Izzy opened her mouth to argue.
“You can’t trail me around forever,” Kit pointed out. “I can’t follow you around either and despite that gun,” her gaze touched the Glock on Izzy’s nightstand. “You’re not invincible.”
It irritated her that her sister was right. “Fine, but I’m driving you to the cops and to the hospital. You call me when you’re leaving the diner.” Izzy braced herself. “What about the photograph?”
“Damien posted the cleaner version on his social media accounts and wrote about how we’d planned to do a feature on online bullying for our social studies class about truth and perception, but the ‘bitches’ beat us to it. I guess he had the most to lose.” Kit shrugged a shoulder.
Izzy hid her surprise. She still didn’t trust the guy.
“I haven’t seen anyone sharing the X-rated version around today and everyone I know has taken it down. Anyway, what am I gonna do? Hide away for a year? I don’t think so. I don’t care what anyone thinks—except Jesse. I need him to know the whole truth. If I have any more trouble I’ll tell the cops.” She looked at her watch impatiently. “How long are you gonna be?”
Izzy scrubbed the towel over her wet hair. “Five minutes.”
“Why don’t I drive myself to the police station and you can—”
“No,” Izzy said firmly. “I’m coming with you to the cops and to see Jesse. He might not want to see you and I don’t want you pissing off anyone if that’s the case.”
Kit grinned at her unexpectedly. “Determined to keep me out of trouble, Iz? Mom would be proud.”
Izzy looked away and turned on the hairdryer full blast. A lump of emotion knotted inside her throat and she choked down the words that wanted to escape—that Izzy had stopped caring what their mother thought years ago when her mom had stabbed her husband with a screwdriver and forced Izzy to bury the body by threatening the life of her unborn child.
That was not something Kit ever needed to know. Her mother had put Izzy in the position she now found herself in and, frankly, she hated her for it.
Chapter Sixteen
AN HOUR LATER they walked out of the police station. Hank Wright had been there and had shown both Miranda Hutchens and her parents the second photograph, along with the message about the dangers of online bullying. Turned out Kit hadn’t been the only one having to apologize.
Kit had left her car at the diner and caught a ride with Izzy. Although she wanted to baby her, Izzy knew it was impractical and probably unnecessary. It was difficult to imagine a murderer would attack anyone now that they were all on high alert. Kit had promised to call Izzy when she was leaving work and come straight home with no stops along the way.
They headed inside the hospital and Izzy was surprised to see Agent Randall talking animatedly to Chief Tyson outside Jesse’s room like they were old friends.
They both looked up when she and Kit approached.
“Kit would like to talk to Jesse for a few minutes,” Izzy asked Chief Tyson. “But only if that would be okay with you?”
Both men frowned and then looked at one another. Randall shrugged. The chief licked his lips and then nodded. He addressed Kit. “Don’t talk to him about the assault. Don’t ask him any questions about that night. He doesn’t remember much after he was hit on the head and is still in a lot of pain whenever the meds wear off.” His eyes turned flat. “If you upset him, I’ll haul your ass off to jail, got it?”
Kit nodded meekly. “I don’t want to upset him. I thought he might want to talk about Helena with someone who knew and loved her.” Tears gathered in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She seemed to have finally realized that this wasn’t about her.
The chief opened the door and let her in. Jesse’s mother came out with a worried expression on her face.
“Want me to go in with them?” Izzy volunteered even though she didn’t really want to.
“No,” Tyson said. “Jesse’s starting to chafe at the restrictions. It’ll be good for them to spend a little time together. Get the grieving process started.”
“I need to go home. My mom has a church meeting at four.” Charlene Tyson checked her watch. Izzy had discovered the other night that Charlene was an epileptic and wasn’t allowed to drive.
<
br /> “I’d give you a ride, but I need to drop Kit back at the diner around five.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” asked Chief Tyson.
Izzy held her hands wide to say it wasn’t her choice, but she understood the need to bury herself in work. “She wants to try and carry on life as normal. It seems like a reasonable thing to do.”
“I’ll take her to the diner,” Tyson said. “That way people will be reminded I’m not happy about the whole photo saga.”
She glanced at Agent Randall. “Did they figure out who sent that awful message yet?”
He nodded. “Yes and no. A friend of mine tracked it and deleted it from most sites. It originated from Franky Cirencester’s phone, but he said it he didn’t send it to anyone. He thinks someone must have picked up the phone when he put it down somewhere at the party. He was pretty drunk from all accounts.”
“So who was it sent to?” she asked.
Randall eyed her cautiously, judging how much he could reveal. “Jesse’s ex-girlfriend, Jessica Tuttle. She’s the one who spread it around the next day with that message. Her email address was on about half the original texts and she posted it on social media. She wasn’t exactly difficult to track down.”
Izzy shook her head. Charlene’s mouth hung open.
“Thank goodness she’s an ex-girlfriend,” the chief stated with a grimace. “I’m assuming there are charges that can be brought?”
Randall nodded. “Frazer said to leave it with him. He was going to talk to a few people and figure out the best approach.”
Tyson nodded. “I want to be kept in the loop.” He put his hands on his hips. “What she wrote about Kit and Helena was plain wrong.”
A strong sense of gratitude hit Izzy out of nowhere. The fact she didn’t have to handle this alone was a huge relief. “Thank you,” she told the Tysons and Randall. “Thank you so much for your help with this.”
The chief sent her a wry smile. “You’ve got your work cut out with that one.”
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