Never Tell (Detective D.D. Warren #10) - Lisa Gardner Page 0,45

So he did. He went to her house, murdered her—”

“Stuck her larynx down the garbage disposal so he’d never have to listen to her again.”

“And then he turned himself in. That was it. His mother had tormented him most of his life. He’d finally addressed the issue. Then he was done. Compare that to Bundy, who broke out of prison, what—two, three times? Swore each time he’d clean up his act, only to devolve into larger and more horrific crime sprees. Bundy was born evil. Kemper had some of the necessary starting ingredients, don’t get me wrong, but his upbringing at the hands of his mother was the deciding factor. So again, there’s not one answer to the question of what’s the nature of evil, just as there’s no one answer that defines anything about human behavior. Evil is a spectrum. And different predators fall in different places along the scale.”

“No one wants to be a monster,” I murmur.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You have questions,” he says abruptly. He’s not smiling anymore. His expression is serious. He steeples his hands, rests his fingertips against his chin. “You didn’t come to talk. If you were going to do that, you would’ve contacted me in advance, made arrangements to meet the group. Asked about the speaker’s fee.”

“Cashed the check?”

Another nod. “This isn’t about what you have to offer us. It’s about what we can offer you.”

I don’t answer right away. I study the glass of water. The way the condensation has beaded up, heated by the flames from the gas fireplace.

“Why don’t you have any personal photos in this room?”

“This isn’t just my home, it’s also a professional space. I don’t care to give that much away to clients.”

“Your reading has made you that paranoid?”

His turn to fall silent. I know then what I should’ve suspected from the beginning.

“How old were you?” I ask.

“Six. And it wasn’t me who was victimized, but my older cousin in New York. They never caught who killed him; it’s one of those open cases. But the details of his murder match four other unsolved homicides from the same time period. My aunt and uncle … They’ve never quite recovered. You grow up seeing the impact such a crime has on a person, a family, a community, it leaves a mark.”

“You work his case?”

“I have for the past twenty years. I’m no closer to solving it than the police are.”

“A string of related murders that simply ended?” I raise a brow.

“Exactly. Predators don’t stop on their own. But sometimes, they get arrested for other crimes. Or change jurisdiction. In this day and age of nationwide law enforcement databases, it’s harder for that trick to work. But international travel …”

“A killer with means.”

“My cousin was strangled with a silk tie. There was evidence of sexual intercourse, but not necessarily assault. He’d told some friends he’d recently met an older, wealthy gentleman. He was excited about the potential for the relationship.”

“You think he was seduced, then murdered?”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry,” I say at last.

“I was too young to understand the nuances of his death. Later, when I was fifteen, I happened to look it up. Imagine my surprise to find my cousin’s murder linked to a series of strangulations on various websites. But it was the true-crime sites, groups like the one I run now, that captured my attention. They’d given it serious thought and in many cases done some real work. We’re not all just armchair detectives. Some of our members are retired police, medical professionals, even a coroner.”

“And your skills?”

“I’m a computer nerd. Trust me, you want to do any kind of meaningful research these days, and you’re going to need a geek.”

“Why Jacob Ness?”

“Local case. Received a lot of coverage when you were recovered.” He pauses slightly and I can tell he’s trying to figure out if he should’ve used such clinical terms. Then he shrugs. It is what is, and we both know it.

“But Jacob’s crime is known,” I say. “Well documented. Where’s the riddle?”

Keith cocks his head to the side. “Do you really call him Jacob?”

“I just did.”

“When you were together?”

“Well, ‘Rat Bastard’ had a tendency to earn me negative consequences.”

“You still think about him.”

“You’re the expert, you tell me.”

He shakes his head. “I only know the perpetrators. I don’t know …”

“Me? Other survivors? The ones who, unlike your cousin, got away?” My words are harsh. Unnecessarily so. I can’t seem to help myself. I still can’t figure out if this guy is for real. Successful computer analyst by