by Rita Karnopp
“What do you mean?”
“We’re not dealing with just anyone here. Our guy is what many like to call the ‘psychology of evil’. We want to distract him now. We need to appeal to his self-interests and make him feel he’s got to be the smartest fucker you’ve ever come across. We’ve got to keep in mind he’s clever, devious, selfish, and extremely narcissistic.”
“And you know this because?”
“It’s in the handbook I consider my work bible, the Practical Homicide Investigation by Vernon J. Geberth. I don’t leave home without it.”
“I own and have read that book a couple of times. I concentrate on the investigation more than the psychology. Don’t know where it is now, but you’re right. So you suggest what?”
“Let’s take control, but feed his grandiose sense of self-importance called an ego.”
“I’m mighty glad you’re here, Dallas. If I were alone I’d have screwed this one up royally.”
“Now that you’ve stroked my newly self-inflated ego, let’s put that energy into our perp.”
She clicked away until he couldn’t take it anymore. “What you writing?”
“Okay, just finished. You are responding: Have my own set of paternity tests running. Unless her lover has red hair and green eyes like me, you can be sure they’re mine. By the way, I have to say I admire how long you’ve evaded detection. Some fine police work, if I must say so.”
“Nice stroke.” Cooper glanced right and noted they had just passed Helena. Half-way there. He pressed the speedometer to eighty and reset the cruise control.
“Here we go,” Dallas said. “You will be charged with nine counts of first degree murder. Your name will be remembered as Montana’s most notorious serial killer.”
“Nine? What the—“
“He is counting the first three murders and the copycats, so that is six. I wonder—“
“Megan and her damn second book.”
“What second book?”
Cooper swallowed hard to control his anger. “Arnott told me Kari Winslow announced Megan’s second book, Physical Evidence, was coming out in three segments and the first was on the market a week ago.”
“Are they based on actual case files again?”
“I asked the same question,” Cooper said. “Arnott said they we not going to disclose that fact until the third segment hit the market.”
“And when will that be?”
“Next week already, from what I understand. I told Arnott to buy and read the damn thing. Then he needs to start figuring out where the next victim is going to be.”
“You were right. He just texted. You will be found guilty for nine murders.”
“We’re already too late, aren’t we?” Cooper shook with frustration.
“Maybe not. Let’s answer this bastard.”
“Okay, let’s say: I don’t know how you did it. You outwitted our entire team. Did you change the evidence? Did you know the wrong men went to prison for something they didn’t do? What do you think?” Cooper thought for a moment. “Give him a P.S. Say, I know of six murders, who are the other three?”
“Oh, good idea,” she said, clicking away. “Okay, I’ve sent it.”
“We still have over an hour to go. It—“ The ringing phone startled him. “Tell me he is not calling to talk.”
“Nope, looks like it’s Arnott. I’ll put it on speaker.”
“Just wanted to let you both know I’m about ten miles behind you. There’s an all-night gas station just as you come into Missoula. I have a friend’s truck. Good news here is he has two under-bed supply trunks. I figure a few miles out Dallas and I will hunker down in them. I brought along a few supplies. I’m wired.”
“Hello yourself,” Cooper said, relieved to hear his partner’s voice. “I like the plan except it’ll be cold as hell in those truck beds.”
“It is what it is.”
“Gotta go, Arnott. The perp is texting me.”
“What? Damn, wish I was there.”
“Ditto.” Cooper nodded for Dallas to take the text message.
“You fucks didn’t discover a clue I didn’t want you to. Everyone will soon learn you got a worthless commendation for the biggest fuck-up in Montana. You’ll be the detective joke of all time. What do you think your dear ole dad would think of you now? His protégé and son. You come from a long line of law enforcement and you’ve just fucked that up. P.S. You might have your team check out three ghost towns in this order: Bannack where they’ll find Ella Burquist, Marysville they’ll find Sarah Betrovek, and finally when they get to Garnet they’ll find Megan Reynolds.” Dallas paused, then said, “Damn, I can’t wait to get my hand on this asshole.”
“I knew he was planning on making her a copycat victim. Why on earth would Megan write a second book after the hideous results from the first?”
“Maybe she didn’t have a choice. He’s a manipulator. He doesn’t get what he wants, he threatens and follows through. That might be why she sent the twins off to grandma’s house.”
“She should have told me. How can I protect Tina and Tucker if she can’t be honest with me?” Cooper thought over the message. “Read that part about my dad again, would you?”
“Sure, umm … What do you think your dear ole dad would think of you now? His protégé and son. You come from a long line of law enforcement and you’ve just fucked that up.” Dallas waited, then added, “It’s personal, Cooper. You still think it can’t be Paul Weaver?”
“It’s the way he said it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You come from a long line of law enforcement and you better not fuck it up. My dad used to say that word-for-word. Not many people would know that. Candy, Arnott, Maxwell, Gulchinski, Weaver and me.”
“Well, we can rule out Candy … oh hell, Cooper. We can rule out everyone but Weaver. Ask yourself something else. How would Weaver know Sparks had a paternity test run? You don’t really think he’d have told Weaver about the affair, do you? Our killer is a manipulator, Cooper. He wants you to know his truth or the truth he’s created. He has a plan, a fantasy, and bringing you and everyone you care about down is his.”
“Meaning? Dennis wasn’t Megan’s lover, Weaver was. Bicsak followed him to Megan’s place. He must have been a decoy. I’ll bet Paul threated Dennis … pull off the performance of your life or something would happen to Candy and her babies. Candy steered clear of Weaver. She wouldn’t tell me why. Maybe she knew he was Megan’s lover,” Cooper paused. “You said from the beginning, we find Megan’s lover … we’ll find the killer. How are we going to prove it?”
“We need to answer him. Let’s dig under his skin. I’m impressed and appalled. Evidence can be tampered with and manipulated. Clear alibis for times of death and motive, that’s where you missed the mark. I would like to know why? What do you think?”
“Not bad. I think you’re getting the hang of this.”
Cooper thought for a moment. “Add this, Sparks looks more guilty than me. He has motive since Megan is pregnant with his son. His wife is having twins and now his lover of almost five years shows up pregnant—of course if it’s not Sparks’ son, then he’s yours, Paul.“
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
In the distance she heard a male voice. Megan shook off the heaviness and struggled to open her eyes. Instinct made her freeze in place. Don’t let him know you’re awake.
Slowing her breathing, Megan fought the nightmare headache that still pounded inside her skull. Her back ached from lying, she didn’t know how long, flat on her back on an old wooden table. A fire actually crackled and the heat eased her chills. She turned to her left, only to find her hands and legs tied to the four corners of the table.
The killer was rewriting the crime scene. The thought didn’t give any comfort. She inched her eyes open and saw a figure texting on his iPhone. Opening her eyes wider, she saw the killer … Paul Weaver. That couldn’t possibly be. Dennis Sparks was her lover, yet … didn’t the killer say he kne
w how she liked to fuck? Were Dennis and Paul in on this killing spree together? She couldn’t believe that of Dennis.
“What the fuck? What do you mean Megan is pregnant? With my son? No fuckin’ way!”
Megan closed her eyes and held as still as she possibly could. Who was he texting? Why would someone tell him … she paused, the texter was stalling. Was it Cooper? If the killer thinks she is carrying his child, maybe he won’t follow-through with the crime scene. He’ll spare her. Would he? She couldn’t help but grasp at the slight hope.
God, no. Her last victim in Physical Evidence was four months pregnant. That fact didn’t matter to the killer. It actually clearly stated motive. The texter didn’t know that. Instead of stalling, it most likely escaladed the killer.
If he is her lover, not Dennis, then could he kill his own son? Why was Paul Weaver trying to frame Cooper? What vendetta did he have to settle? Why would Dennis Sparks reveal himself as her lover?
Manipulation. A serial killer was a master of it. If Dennis showed up to fuck her, he had been forced to make her believe he was her lover. Did the killer threaten Candy and the twins? She knew something was different with Dennis. Damn, that man was a good fuck. He was a more tender lover … she admitted she liked it … and only thought he was different because he had revealed himself to her. She truly believed she was in love with him.
It suddenly became clear. Malicious Intent and Physical Evidence were testimonies of a serial killer.
“Stop faking and face me, Megan love.”
She jumped and opened her eyes. “You bastard. I trusted you.”
“That’s my girl. Tell me how you really feel.” He jumped up on the table and held himself above her. “Look at you, Megan. Perfect fake tits, narrow hips and lovely thighs. I’m going to miss you. Did you enjoy fucking Dennis?”
“He’s better than you.” She glared at him.
“Oh, that hurts.” His tone revealed he didn’t believe her. “Let’s untie these magic legs and have a go at it for old-time sake.” He jumped back off the table and stripped naked.
She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but if she prolonged the sex, maybe she could prolong the murder. Deep in her heart she knew Cooper was on his way. She shuddered when Paul moved his palm across her bare stomach, lower and lower until he slid into the edges of ecstasy.
“Oh, my, you’re under such duress and you’re still are ready for me. What a lovely surprise.” He hopped back onto the table and mounted her.
She responded to his thrusts and like always, her body betrayed her by wanting more and more. He rode her like a bull rider. Sliding up and down and slamming hard before retreating.
Without a word he sliced the ropes from her hands with a four inch pocket knife. He flipped her and pressed her face-down on the table. He grabbed her hips and entered her from behind.
She moaned her pleasure as he slammed into her, she reached down for his juices and wiped them on the under edge of the table. Maybe she could leave a little of his DNA for the detectives to find.
He jumped down, flipped her over and pulled her to the edge of the table. Holding her legs up he took from her all she could possibly give. He grunted and continued driving his way home.
It didn’t take her long to realize he couldn’t release and that would cause him to shrivel. That’s when he turned angry and mean. She slowed him down and offered her breast. She slid into him and moved her hips, massaging his buttocks, moaning seductively, letting him know he was giving her great pleasure. She could feel him firming up and she coaxed him to slide his back on the table.
“You are the fuck of the century, Megan love.”
She ignored his comment and remounted him, sitting and sliding against him. He closed his eyes and moaned his pleasure. She continued in rhythmic response, moaning to match his pleasure. She glanced around for the pocket knife, only to realize he still held it in his right hand.
She massaged Paul’s temple, neck, shoulders, chest, shoulders, halfway down his arms, back to his shoulders … all the while riding him like there was no tomorrow. And maybe there wasn’t. She continued her seductive dance, feeling his body edging near climax.
Harder … faster …. harder … and just as he shouted out his ultimate release, Megan grabbed his wrist and slammed the knife he held into his chest.
He opened his eyes and held still for a second. She stared down at him, almost afraid to move. He hadn’t released the knife. It still remained in his chest. She had slain the dragon. She’d rewrite the last chapter and put an end to this serial killer’s life.
Staring into her eyes … he pulled the knife from his chest and sliced through the air. He dropped his arm to the table and the knife went flying across the floor.
She hadn’t expected it. Blood squirted everywhere, drenching the killer in her blood. Megan grabbed her neck, then dropped….
* * *
“Megan is pregnant?” Dallas leaned over and looked up at Cooper. “How’d you find that out?”
Cooper laughed. “No, I made it up. But if our perp is Paul and now he believes Megan is pregnant, would he be able to kill his own son?”
“You sneaky devil. That is good. Okay, it’s sent.”
“I hope this shit doesn’t backfire. I get Megan killed and I don’t know how I’ll ever forgive myself.”
“You still love her, don’t you?”
“Not the way you think. She will always be the mother of my children. The love stops there. After all she’s done, with the kids, the affair and the books, I want nothing better than to get full custody of Tina and Tucker and never set eyes on the woman again. I just don’t want the cause to be six feet under. Why, you jealous?”
“Sorry, not my style.” She forced a laugh, and thought, Yes, you idiot, I am jealous. I can’t give you babies. “Here we go, Cooper. Our killer has responded. Kid not mine. Dennis will be surprised with the good and bad news. Too bad the cousins won’t get to know each other. You finally figured me out. Bravo. Why? You’re right that evidence can be tampered with. So can birth certificates, you prick. Candy, you and me are not cousins. We are siblings. Our loving parents gave me to Aunt Linda and dickhead Weaver because three kids were too much to handle. My worthless stepmother couldn’t have a baby so she chose me. Wasn’t I the fuckin’ lucky one? I am Collins Paul Reynolds. Candy, Cooper and Collins, fucking triplets.”
Cooper squealed the rig to a stop and pulled off to the side of the road. “You got to be shittin’ me.” He grabbed the phone from her hand and re-read the message. “You think he’s screwing with my head?”
Dallas threw the blanket off and sat. “Let’s take a minute and get some fresh air.” She opened the door and sat waiting for Cooper to walk around to her. He stood and leaned against the Jeep. “I think for the first time Paul is being honest. That’s the missing piece. The one thing Paul couldn’t handle. When did he stop talking to you and Candy?”
“When we were about twelve.”
“I’d say that’s when he found out the truth. It has manifested all this time and finally he separated from it and allowed his alter-ego to take over.”
“Now what?”
“He’s told you the truth and I would guess he’s faced it. I believe Megan is dead. We’ll find her at the cabin and I would guess we’ll also find him, dead. He won’t want to go to prison. He won’t want to face the media because he’s failed. He might want to kill you … but I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“That’s another thing that has been bothering me. He could have killed you so many times and could have looked the hero for doing it. Yet he chose not to. Maybe there was a part of him that couldn’t. You are his brother. There was a time you two were as close as brothers. You bonded until you were twelve. That’s a tough connection to break. He loved you in spite of it all. I believe the one person he couldn’t kill is you.”
“I hope he’s alive. No. Maybe I don’t. He won’t survive prison. He’ll be the victim all over again.
This whole thing is fucked up.”
Dallas slid her hand across his shoulder and pulled him into her. He bent over and buried his head in her lap and cried. Spent, he stood and regained control.
“We’d better get back on the road. Get Arnott on the phone. We need to discuss a different plan.”
She didn’t question the comment. Instead she waited for him to get back on the road. “You ready?”
“Before you call Arnott, text our buddy one more time. Collins—knew we had a tight connection. Sorry we lost it. It’s not too late. I will be there for you. Give me a chance. Please don’t hurt Megan. Your brother, Cooper.”
“Smart move.”
“It’s not a move, Dallas. It’s the truth. I don’t agree with what he’s done, but I won’t desert him. I’ll be there for him if he gives me the chance.”
“I know you will, Cooper. I admire you for it.”
He listened while Dallas clicked out his message and wondered if it was too late. How could his parents have betrayed them all like that? Now he understood why his father paid so much attention to Paul … Collins … when Mr. Weaver left. It wasn’t because he felt sorry for the boy, it was guilt. But he wasn’t man enough to tell the truth. Cooper felt such an anger for his father and even his mother. They both had betrayed them.
“Hey, Arnott, it’s us again,” Dallas said.
“About time you two called me back. I was starting to worry. What’s this about you texting with the killer?”
“Paul Weaver is our man.” Cooper cleared his throat.
“What the hell did you say? Weaver?”
“Long story, will explain later. We’ll meet at the gas station and we’re all going in your truck. We’re not using the tackle boxes.”
“Why not? I mean, if Dallas is too hurt, I still can hide—“
“Change of plans, Arnott. We’re about ten minutes from the gas station and we’ll wait for you there. Call in a chopper and have it wait for us at the airport.”
“You serious? What’s changed?”