Heinous (3 page)

As if Jess needed a reminder of that cold, hard fact. “Good work, Sylvia.”

Sylvia gave her a nod. “I want you to find this sick bastard.”

The sooner the better.

8:10 p.m.

The car stopped and Jess opened her eyes. It wasn’t that late but she was exhausted. According to her sister and her obstetrician, feeling physically drained all the time happened in the first trimester and was nothing to be concerned about. It would subside as she moved beyond week twelve. Jess looked forward to reaching that milestone.

“Where are we?” She peered through the glass, trying to identify the neighborhood. They certainly weren’t on Conroy Road at her garage apartment—the one Dan shared with her for now.

He held up a key. “I want to show you a house.”

She didn’t see a For Sale sign. “Did you make a final decision on buying rather than building?” That was one decision she preferred to leave up to him. He’d probably told her already and she’d forgotten. Apparently, she was already suffering from the
momnesia
her sister had warned her about.

“It takes time to build a house, Jess,” he reminded her gently. “I don’t want us living over some old guy’s garage when the baby comes.”

He had a valid point there. She hadn’t paid any attention to what direction he’d driven. “Where are we?”

“A couple of streets over from Dunbrooke. A friend called to tell me about the listing before it goes on the market. Properties go fast around here.”

She was so ready for a long hot shower and bed, but Dan sounded as if this meant a lot to him. “We’re lucky to get a heads up. Let’s check it out.”

Before she’d opened the door of the sedan he’d rented, Dan was at her side. On the street, the BPD cruiser that followed her everywhere she went these days waited.

“Your realtor friend might want to warn the neighbors about us,” she teased.

Dan chuckled. “If we keep making the news, we may have to change our names.”

The light-hearted banter was a welcome reprieve from their usual serious conversations about work and Spears. If they were a normal couple, they might share moments like this every day.

Would they ever be normal? Wishful thinking. The life of a cop rarely fit neatly into the
normal
category.

The house was larger than the one on Dunbrooke had been. Discreet landscape lighting showcased the pristine red brick home. Dan inserted the key into the lock, opened the door, and flipped on the lights. A few clicks on the keypad near the door and the beeping of the security system went silent.

Jess surveyed the entry hall. Wood floors. High ceilings. Heavy crown molding. “This is nice.”

“Four bedrooms,” he said as he showed her into a large great room. “Five baths. Extra large lot. All the amenities we could ever want.”

Jess thought of her ranch style home in Virginia she’d recently sold. At some point, she had to take a trip up there for the closing. This house was larger than the one she’d owned and more luxurious, but not too grand. “Really nice.”

Lil would love it. Her sister was a decorating addict. She never missed the annual Christmas tour of historic homes in Birmingham. Her idea of a nice Sunday drive included dropping by realtor-hosted open houses. Jess had always been too absorbed in one case or the other to care about where she laid her head at night. Her desk worked fine when needed. Things were different now. She, Dan, and the baby needed a real home. A
Burnett
home, she mused.

“Wait until you see this.” He guided her into the kitchen. “Now this is a family kitchen.”

“Bigger than the one you had, that’s for sure.” Top of the line appliances and cabinets filled the generously sized room.

Dan took her by the hands and pulled her close. “A lot of things are going to change, Jess. Our child will need us home at a decent hour with quality time to share.”

A couple of elephants suddenly settled on her chest. How on earth would they manage to take care of this child? Right now—at this very moment—they needed a house, a new vehicle for Dan, an outright miracle to keep him from losing his job, and someone to teach her how to spend quality time somewhere besides at work.

Oh, and she couldn’t forget the serial killer obsessed with her.

“This house is great.” She chewed her lower lip for a second as she took in the gorgeous details of the room and wished the pressure in her chest would go away. “I’m a terrible cook, Dan. You know that. We’d starve if you didn’t cook or we didn’t order take out. I don’t know how to leave work on time. I’m a woman and I rarely remember to shop.”

Dan smiled at her and the pressure eased. He pulled her into his arms and held her close. “We’ll figure all this out, Jess. You don’t need to worry. We’re a team. We’ll learn the ropes of how to be good parents together.”

She breathed a little easier. He was right. They would work out all the details. There was nothing to worry about.

Except Eric Spears.

UAB Psychiatric Unit

Monday, September 6, 9:00 a.m.

“I’ll check in with Harper and see how it’s going in Irondale.” Detective Lori Wells’s words, though spoken softly, seemed to echo in the long sterile corridor.

The notion that the patient would open up more with only Jess in the room was an excuse. The true motive for the decision to interview Amanda Brownfield alone was one Jess had no desire to analyze or to share, not even with Lori, a good detective as well as a good friend. Jess was grateful she seemed to understand. Whatever came out of Amanda’s mouth, Jess wanted to hear it first. The need was a defense mechanism that proved even career cops were human.

“After you speak to Harper,” Jess went on, “talk to Cook and find out what’s going on in Scottsboro.” She needed to be in three places at once today. “We’ll head there after we drop by the coroner’s office.”

Lori said something in response, but the words didn’t register. Jess was focused once more on the patient beyond the glass. Amanda was confined to her bed. Wrist and ankle restraints, along with a waist shackle warned all who entered the room she was dangerous. In addition to the security of the psychiatric unit, a BPD uniform stood guard outside her room twenty-four/seven.

How had Spears found this woman? If this connection to Jess through her father was one he had somehow staged, he’d outdone himself. On the other hand, if this woman truly was her half sister, how had Spears discovered that decades old secret?

Amanda was about the same height as Jess, a little heavier with the same brown eyes. She had lightened her hair to try to match the blond color Jess had inherited from her mother. No matter the steps she took, she wasn’t anything like Jess. Amanda Brownfield was a psychopathic serial killer who needed to cause harm for pleasure. Nothing she said or did could be trusted. Her singular goal in life was achieving her own perverted desire. She suffered from delusions of grandeur and sexual fantasies involving other serial killers. Not a pretty picture.

Being born into a multi-generational family of killers, Amanda had learned the art of killing at a very early age. Killing appeared to be a ritual passed down through several generations. Whether the environment in which she was raised or the genes she inherited or a combination of both had created the psychotic criminal she was today, Jess couldn’t say. What she did know was that Amanda had murdered her own mother and her boyfriend as well as dumped her daughter to dedicate herself fully to doing Spears’s bidding. Amanda Brownfield evidently had found the answer to her twisted fantasies in Eric Spears.

Like the followers before her, Matthew Reed, Richard Ellis, Fergus Cagle aka the Man in the Moon and countless others, she obeyed Spears’s every command.

All Jess wanted from her was a way to reach Spears.

She opened the door and entered the stark room that looked exactly like the other seventeen in the unit.

“Well if it isn’t my big sister.” Amanda smiled, a duplicitous expression. “Did you bring me flowers? I hear lilies are your favorite.”

“Don’t you have anything original to say, Ms. Brownfield?” Jess stopped at the foot of her bed and blatantly studied the woman. “This regurgitating of what Spears spouts has become increasingly tedious.”

Amanda snorted. “Don’t be so formal, sis. Call me Amanda. Have you picked a name for your baby? You could name her after me, if it’s a girl. I’m sure Dan would like that. He’s cute in an uptight sort of way.”

Jess stemmed the anger that stirred inside her, recognizing that was Amanda’s goal. “Why don’t we talk about all those people you and your grandfather murdered, Amanda? The more you cooperate, the better this will go for you.”

Her gaze narrowed. “You’re forgetting our daddy. He was a part of the family fun, too.” Her eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. “Do you have to fight the urge to kill, Jess? I mean, it runs in our blood. You must feel it. It’s like a fire. Not even sex gives me that kind of rush.”

It took every ounce of strength Jess possessed to ignore her claims. One way or another, she intended to keep this interview focused on finding Spears. “Beyond the remains we’ve found, I have no interest in your past, Amanda, real or imagined. Let’s concentrate on the present and how we can get you out of this place.”

A wary interest sparked in her gaze. “You can’t do that,” she challenged. “They’re never going to let me out.” To punctuate her words, she tested the strength of her restraints, the pain of doing so clouding her face. “They’ll label me crazy and I’ll chill out in some fancy hospital until I get old and die. My life is already over and we both know it.”

“I hate to disappoint you, Amanda, but I’ve spoken with the DA. He doesn’t intend to allow you to get off that easily.”

“Whatever.” Amanda stared at the ceiling. “Like I said, you don’t have the power to get me out of here.”

“You’d be surprised what I can do.” Jess removed a pad and pencil from her bag before settling it on the floor. “I have very important contacts in the Federal Bureau of Investigation. You already know the chief of police is in love with me. He’ll do whatever I ask. What he says carries a lot of influence around here.”

Still visibly suspicious, Amanda took the bait. “What would I have to do?”

“You have to prove you’re willing to cooperate. Tell me more about how you came to be involved with Spears and how you contact him. Whatever you can give me might help our investigation. And it’ll help you, Amanda.” Jess moved up to the side of the bed. “Sheriff Foster has already handed jurisdiction over to us. I’m the only person in a position to help you.”

Another of those malicious smiles spread across Amanda’s face. “Maybe Eric will get me out. He’s far more brilliant than all you cops put together.”

“But he isn’t here, Amanda. I am.” Jess paused to allow that reality to sink in. “Let me explain how Eric works. So far, everyone who helps him ends up dead. Do you really believe you’ll be the exception?”

Hesitation
. Jess was making progress.

“I’m not saying I believe you,” Amanda made a noncommittal face, “but there are things I could tell you. Like how I saw two women in glass boxes at his house.”

Anticipation fired through Jess. Could Amanda have seen Rory Stinnett and Monica Atmore? Eric Spears made a production of dumping the bodies of his victims as part of his usual MO. Since their bodies hadn’t turned up, there was reason to believe the women were still alive.
We’re waiting for you, Jess
.

“I’m not sure what women you mean.” Jess shrugged. “Can you tell me their names?”

“You know, the two women who’ve been all over the news.” Amanda rolled her eyes. “I don’t remember their names.”

Jess retrieved a copy of the updated missing persons flyer from her bag. “Are these the women you saw?”

“The first two but not the other one. I already told you I’ve never seen her before.”

“Were the women alive? Can you describe their condition and the way they were being held?” Jess dared to hope.

“They looked fine to me.” Amanda shrugged her uninjured shoulder. “He has them in glass cages in a room that’s kind of like a science lab or something. He’s saving them for when you get there. I told you before, this is all about you, Jess.”

“I guess I was wrong about you, Amanda.” Jess put the pencil and paper as well as the flyer away. “Looks like you’re the first.”

The wariness was back in Amanda’s dark eyes. “First what?”

“No other woman has been with Eric the way you have and lived to tell about it.” Jess reached out, smoothed a wisp of hair from Amanda’s cheek. “I’m certain he went to great lengths to find you. I see now that you are obviously very important to him.”

“Told you.” Amanda looked away a moment. “As soon as he figured out we had the same daddy, he started looking for me. I already knew who he was. I’d been following the stuff about the Player on that investigation channel even before I knew his real name. Then one day he called me. We talked like we’d known each other forever. He already knew all about me and you and our daddy.”

Jess restrained the urge to shake the whole truth out of the woman. “What kinds of things does he know?”

Amanda laughed. “Everything, Jess. He knows more about you than you do. I didn’t pay attention to most of it. I just wanted to hear his voice. It was like talking to a rock star only better.”

“He sure never called me.” Jess put her hand to her chest in feigned wonder. “Were you terrified?”

“I was so excited,” Amanda lifted her head from the pillow to draw closer to Jess, “I came just talking to him.”

Jess resisted the urge to flinch. “His voice is very intense. I spoke with him in person once, you know.”

Amanda’s expression turned smug. “I’ve talked to him lots of times.”

Jess made a dismissive sound. “I knew him first.”

“I doubt it. He called me on Valentine’s Day, almost seven months ago.”

“He made you wait seven whole months before you were... together?” Jess countered. “That’s a really long time.”

“Some things are worth waiting for.”

“How often did he call you?”

“He mailed me a new phone every week so we could talk, then I removed the battery and threw the old one in the river just like he told me to.”

“What did you talk about?”

“You, mostly.” She gave Jess a knowing look. “I helped him find out all kinds of things about you and our daddy until my stupid mother found out why I was asking so many questions.”

“I wish I knew more about him.” Jess sighed. “No one knows where he lives. You probably didn’t notice the postmark of the packages with the phones?”

“They came from all over the place. California. New York. Texas.” Amanda laughed. “He’s been everywhere.”

Jess braced her forearms on the bedrail and pretended to relax. “I guess I’ll have to wait until we’re together the way you two were before I know more.”

Amanda didn’t speak again for twelve infinite seconds. Each one detonated in Jess’s head like a carefully choreographed series of explosions.

“You said you could help me get out of here.”

“First, you have to help me. Did you ever speak to any of his friends?”

“Only the one who picked me up and he didn’t say a whole lot.”

“We can start there.” Amanda had given Jess nothing when she’d asked similar questions on Friday night and then again yesterday. After being shackled to a bed for better than forty-eight hours, maybe she was ready to talk now. “Let’s go through the steps from the moment the man wearing the mask picked you up. Tell me everything you saw, heard, touched, or smelled until you laid eyes on Spears.”

“He picked me up at the Oasis.” Amanda sent a pointed look at Jess. “I couldn’t exactly go home.”

By then they were already unearthing remains at the family farm. “Were you waiting outside the club?” Jess prompted.

“I was at the bar. I know where the manager keeps his spare key. He doesn’t know I know it, but that’s what happens when dumbasses are in charge. Anyway, I went inside and had a couple of drinks. You know, to brace myself. Meeting Eric Spears for the first time was a big deal.”

“I know what you mean.” Jess had been there, done that, for entirely different reasons, of course. “So the driver wore a mask into the bar?”

Amanda started to shrug then flinched. “Sure. Didn’t matter. The club was closed so no one was there except me. The dude came in, told me to put on the blindfold he tossed at me, and then he led me outside.”

“How tall would you say this masked man was? What kind of mask and clothes did he wear? What color hair? Was he Caucasian?”

“He wore a ski mask. Kind of tall, maybe six feet. Dark hair. White guy, I’m pretty sure. His clothes were black. You know, like Joaquin Phoenix when he played Johnny Cash. Black shirt and black pants.”

Jess’s pulse bumped into a faster rhythm. If the club had video surveillance outside, they might be able to pick something up on the vehicle. “You went outside and then what happened?”

“He picked me up and put me in the trunk.”

“Did the trunk smell new? Used? Think hard, Amanda.”

“Smelled like a new car. And that guy wore cologne. Something expensive and sexy. Made me horny.”

“How long did it take to arrive at Spears’s house? Long enough for your muscles to feel cramped? Did you need to use the bathroom by the time you arrived?”

Amanda considered the questions. “By the time he stopped, I needed to pee real bad from the bourbon and cokes and I was feeling cramped up for sure. I cussed him out for keeping me in the trunk so long.”

“Did you hear any traffic sounds? Was the road smooth or bumpy?”

“Road had a few bumps. There was traffic at first, and then it got quiet like we’d left town.”

Given those details, Jess estimated Amanda was in the trunk for an hour and a half or more. The alcohol would have had time to metabolize to an extent and have its diuretic effect on the bladder. Ninety minutes or so was certainly long enough for her muscles to have grown stiff.

“What did you see, hear or smell once you were out of the trunk?”

Amanda shook her head. “I didn’t smell anything different. It was quiet.” She frowned. “I might’ve heard a dog before he hustled me into the house. So, when are you getting me out of here? Did you tell Lil about me?” Accusation clouded her gaze. “I bet you didn’t. You don’t want anyone to know, do you?”

“Let’s focus on what we have to do to get you out of here right now. The rest can wait. Did you have dinner with Spears? Did he look like you thought he would?”

“I didn’t have food on my mind at the time.” She breathed a little laugh. “I’d seen his pictures on the news, but he looked even better in person.”

“How can you be sure it was really him?” It wouldn’t be the first time a follower had gone to great lengths to look like Eric Spears.

“Oh, it was him, I know for a fact.”

“How do you know for a fact, Amanda?”

She made an impatient sound. “Don’t you want to know about our daddy?” She grinned. “I used to hide in my momma’s closet so I could watch them have sex.”

“How old were you?” Jess demanded in spite of herself. She needed to keep this interview on Spears. Dammit.