by Gina LaManna
“Is his mother still alive?”
“No. She passed away a decade ago. Battle with cancer.”
Russo studied me. “So, what turned him into a monster?”
“That’s the question that’s been plaguing me since we met. I have no idea.”
“Any history of behavioral issues?”
“Some,” I said. “His school reports start by listing him as a spirited child. Later, they go on to get a little more hostile. By high school, he started missing a few classes a month. He barely scraped by graduating due to the number of truancies he’d racked up during his senior year.”
“After high school?”
“He was set to enroll in a local community college, never showed,” I said. “From there, it appears he cut off contact with his family. Disappeared for a while. I’ve found a few records of him working odd jobs, but it’s patchy. I’m guessing a lot of his work was off the books. He traveled around, eventually landed in the Twin Cities.”
“Because of the nice townsfolk, I’m sure.”
“That, and the fact he had met up with an old high school girlfriend while in the area.”
Russo raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“It wasn’t the romantic reunion you’d expect.” I stared into my glass. “She was his first victim.”
Russo cursed. “How’d you wind up on the case?”
“Ironically, it was my first case as a detective on the TC Task Force.”
“How long before the second murder?”
“Two weeks. I think the first was an accident. He ran into someone he knew, probably was looking for money.”
“Was Wilkes on drugs?”
“No drugs as far as I know. Nothing sexually motivated. He kills for the thrill of it. Full stop.”
“He is a sick man.”
“That’s an understatement,” I said. “From what I gathered when speaking to Wilkes, the first killing came about when his old girlfriend tried to get money from him instead of the other way around. He got angry, put his hands on her throat. Things went south from there.”
“And the teeth thing?”
“He’d enrolled in dental assistant school at the local community college.”
“The one he never attended.”
“That’s right,” I said. “He told me it was his mother’s idea. She wanted a better life for him. A family, a career, a real house—not a small one bed apartment.”
“So, the dental thing is some sort of twisted tribute to her,” Russo surmised. “Showing her... what? That he can accomplish great things?”
“Awful things.”
“The third victim was a male. Why did he switch?”
“The women were too easy to overpower. He likes killing with his hands, being present in the moment. The teeth pulling while his victims are alive...” I shuddered. “He likes to see them struggle. In pain. A man was more of a challenge.”
Russo sat back as the waiter returned again, this time with a gigantic tray heaping with food. We watched in silence as the server spread the meal out across the table.
When he’d left, Russo looked up at me. “And Jonathan Tate?”
“How’d he pick his latest conquest?” I mused. “I’m not sure. There could be a tie somewhere, but Wilkes has never been linked much to friendships or acquaintances. I think it’s far more likely he had a stash somewhere around here. Stopped up, hopped off a bus or out of a car, and couldn’t wait a minute longer. Scoped out the place, found his target.”
“So, Tate drew the very short end of the straw last night?”
I played with the napkin in my hands. “You could say that.”
Russo watched me carefully, and though I was aware of my nervous tick, I couldn’t quite tuck it away entirely. Wilkes drew out the worst in me. Fortunately, Russo understood without pushing further.
Picking up his fork, Russo pushed the plates around until all were within reach to both of us. “This is more food than any two people could ever eat. I might’ve gone overboard.”
“Oh,” I said. “You’ve never eaten with me before. That fancy restaurant doesn’t count.”
A genuine smile crossed Russo’s face. “I think you forget. You ate most of my pizza on Christmas Eve.”
“Your pizza?”
Russo cut into his steak. “What do you say we forget about Wilkes for the next hour and enjoy our meal? He’ll have plenty of time to ruin our day later.”
I pushed my purse away and pulled my plate closer, grateful for the reprieve. “Prepare to be impressed with how much one woman can eat, Special Agent Jack Russo.”
Chapter 5
We finished our dinner without bringing up the name Wilkes another time. Russo paid and left a handsome tip after realizing we’d monopolized our server’s table for over two hours. While he shrugged on his jacket, I slipped away to use the restroom and, more importantly, check my phone for updates.
My messages were notoriously empty from Jimmy, Melinda, and Lassie, but Asha had pulled through with a brief memo that stated I should call her at my earliest convenience. I used the restroom and washed up, then dialed her number in the hallway outside of the ladies’ room. It was late, but Asha would be awake, even if she wasn’t still plugging away at the office.
“I was wondering when you’d call,” Asha said upon answering. “It’s not like you to make me wait over an hour. Especially on a case as juicy as this one.”
“Please tell me you have something.”
“Why are you talking like that?” Asha asked. “You’re being all quiet and odd.”
“I’m out to dinner.”
“How many glasses of wine did you have? You sound fuzzy.”
“I’m not fuzzy.”
“Oh, you’re with that hot agent. The one Lassie has a thing for—or is it Melinda?”
“Lassie has a thing for Jack Russo?”
“Not a thing.” Asha tsked. “She wanted to add him to her list of eligible bachelors, but Melinda convinced her not to in order to keep you from getting upset.”
“At least someone in the group has some common sense.”
“So, it is him.”
“We’re working on the case together.”
Asha made a note of surprise in her throat. “You two make for quite the partnership.”
“Your findings?”
“Right. Turns out, there’s not a ton on Wilkes. He didn’t seem to have many connections to the outside world from prison. But I did catch some chatter on the Interweb that people suspect his escape might have been an inside job.”
“As in... Wilkes roped a guard into getting him out of there? What’s the motivation for the guard? He’s playing with fire, working with a criminal the likes of Wilkes.”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet. That’s just a rumor I’m picking up on.”
“From where?”
“Do you really want to know?” Asha asked. “It’s not really my fault people don’t have safety features on their phones and Facebook accounts, or that they blab their secrets to random high school friends who get in touch just to hear a bit of gossip.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to know.”
“As for his escape route, I’m coming up empty so far. You’ll want to get a look at the security footage from the prison, but I haven’t been able to crack that yet. I mean, I could crack it, but it’s dicey territory. Could you peek at it legally?”
“I can do that. No bus tickets, car rentals, etc.?”
“Definitely not. Not under his real name, any known aliases, or any family names we’ve connected him with from our first rendezvous. I even ran the names of his old victims in case he’d gotten any ideas about using them as some sort of sick tribute, but the man’s careful.”
“He knows how to lift cars,” I agreed. “I didn’t expect you’d find anything.”
“No, but I did manage to find a few stolen cars within a hundred miles of the Texas prison from where he escaped. I’m following up on a few leads. With an
y luck, I might be able to track a bit of his route, but I wouldn’t hold your breath. Even if I do manage to follow him, it’ll be too late. The best I’ll be able to do is tell you which roads he took, maybe where he stopped, and if he had a stash anywhere.”
“He did have a stash, but that won’t matter. He won’t go back there again,” I said. “I’m sure he’s got other hidey-holes elsewhere. The man knew he was going to get out—somehow. I’ll figure it out.”
“I know you will, babe,” Asha said. “Unfortunately, that’s about all I have for you. I will ping you the names of two inmates with whom Wilkes was seen talking to on occasion the week prior to his escape. Thomas Falk and Dmitri Hernandez.”
“Great. I’ll check them out tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“I’m hopeful Russo will be able to use his fancy connections to get us on a flight down to Texas.”
“Do you really think it’s worth the time? Wilkes is not going back there.”
“No, but I don’t know where he’s going next, and I can’t sit around and do nothing. If this first killing is as random as we suspect, he’s gotten even more cautious than before. His patterns will be erratic. His locations and timelines will vary. How do we predict a man who embodies chaos?”
“I know one thing that you’ll always be able to predict with Wilkes.”
“What’s that?”
“Honey, he’s coming after you. Whether you like it or not, he’ll find you.”
I hesitated. “Which is exactly why I have to find him first.”
“Be careful.”
Asha disconnected just as I felt eyes boring into the back of my head. I spun around on a heel and came face to face with Russo. The man leaned against the wall with the grace of a gazelle and the presence of a Greek god. He shook his head slowly.
“Sneaking off to make phone calls?”
“Returning phone calls.”
“Oh, so you do return some phone calls,” Russo said, his lips quirking upward into a smile. “Just not mine.”
“Exactly. Because I get attitude like that when I engage with you.”
I slung my purse higher on my shoulder and brushed past the agent. The dimly lit hallway felt too claustrophobic, his presence too much for me after my two—three?—glasses of cabernet. It’d been over the course of several hours, but I wasn’t a huge drinker, and I hadn’t had much in the way of lunch. Maybe Asha was right, and my brain was a little fuzzy.
It was the only explanation for the way my heart pounded when Russo opened the car door and brushed against me, sending a zing of anticipation up my arm. I hurried to buckle myself in and slammed the door so hard Russo nearly lost a finger.
“Sorry for the chivalry,” he said, coming around to the other side and cranking up the heat as the car roared to life. “Are you cold?”
I rolled the window a crack. “Actually, no. It’s stuffy in here. I’m hot. Aren’t you hot?”
Russo just smiled and adjusted the heat down a notch. He didn’t touch my window.
“How much of the conversation did you hear?” I asked as he pulled away from the curb. “By hear, I mean snoop on my private business.”
“Just the bit about Wilkes coming after you. At least, that’s what I deduced from the one side of the conversation I could hear. Is there something you’re not telling me, Kate?”
“Lots of things,” I said. “The airbag light has been on in my car for a month, and I haven’t gotten it checked out yet. I’m six months late on my oil change, too.”
“About Wilkes.”
“We have a personal history,” I said through gritted teeth. “That’s not news to you. That’s why you called me here.”
“I was hoping you’d open up about it.”
“It’s not relevant.”
“I’m not convinced that’s true.”
“I am.”
Russo heaved a breath that fogged up his window. We pulled down a dark road and he flicked on his high beams, but he didn’t push for more of an explanation.
When we arrived at the hotel and parked, I hesitated as I reached for the handle. Russo stared straight ahead, waiting for me to speak.
“What are the chances your fancy resources can get us down to Texas?”
Russo didn’t turn his gaze from the windshield. “You want to visit Wilkes’s friends in prison.”
“Friends is a strong word, but yes. I want to check out the security footage, talk to the guards. A friend of mine is saying—”
“—Asha—”
“—that there are rumors floating around that it might have been an inside job. It would make sense, don’t you think? How else could Wilkes finagle his way out of prison? It wasn’t as if he was known for his charming disposition.”
“Exactly, so what’s the motivation for a guard to help him out?”
“Money? Fame? Some sort of favor? Russo!”
Jack Russo turned to look at me, alarm in his eyes. “What is it?”
“What if Jonathan Tate’s killing wasn’t random at all? What if the reason Wilkes detoured to LaCrosse was because he was doing a favor for the guard by murdering Tate?”
The alarm faded from Russo’s eyes and was slowly replaced by a touch of amusement. “I wasn’t aware we’d entered the set of the latest Liam Niessen movie.”
I slumped back in the seat and crossed my arms over my chest. “If you knew Wilkes, you wouldn’t think it’s so farfetched. Ramone Wilkes knows how to get into a person’s mind, embed himself into one’s psyche like a tick—a burrowing little monster that destroys people from the inside out. If he found a way to get under one of the guards’ skin, find some dirt on him that made him tick, he could get anything he wanted from the man. He could even convince a person that he needed someone else killed.”
“You’re right.” Russo’s eyes stared dully into mine. “I don’t know Wilkes. That’s why I asked for you to explain to me what he’s like.”
“It’s personal!”
“If we’re going to catch him, it’s not going to be scientific. I’m sorry, but if I’ve learned one thing tonight, it’s that everything Wilkes does is personal. He’s coming after you, isn’t he, Kate? You know it, and yet you won’t let me in to help you.”
“Maybe this is why I didn’t return your calls,” I snapped. “I don’t want to be psychoanalyzed over every little detail. The man is nuts. Who knows what he’s going to do next?”
“Nobody. But you have the best chance of getting us there.”
The chilling fact sat there in the car, laid out for both of us to see with startling clarity.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I said finally, exhaling a huge breath. “I thought I could, but I was wrong. I’m too...”
“Kate, wait.”
I was already reaching for the door. I met Russo’s gaze and gave a shake of my head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
I made it to the front door of the building before Russo fell in step next to me. He cornered me against the wall, one arm on either side of my body, his breath brushing wisps against my forehead. I couldn’t go anywhere, but then again, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
“Kate,” he murmured, “you are our only chance to stop Wilkes from killing again. I think you know it, too.”
I was hyper aware of my chest rising and falling inches from Russo. His breath smelled like mint gum, and the cocktail of his cologne and hair products was overpowering at close range. In a good way. Too good of a way for my fuzzy brain.
“I don’t know—”
“I’m sorry for prying into your personal life. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think it was necessary,” Russo said. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but it was obviously awful—and I hate that for you.”
I stared straight at Russo’s soft blue shirt, noticing the slight curl of chest hair over the white T-shirt he wore beneath it. My voice came out hushed. “I thought it was over.”
“I know. It was. It should be. It will be, I promise you
.”
I swallowed hard. “He won’t let this end until I’m dead.”
“Kate—”
I cleared my throat. “I know he’s coming after me, Russo—it’s only a matter of time. He promised me.”
Russo reached for my chin, tilted it upward. He studied my lips. “Talk to me.”
“Not now,” I said. “Not yet. I will if it becomes relevant to the case.”
“Let me put a protective detail on you.”
I swatted Russo’s arm away and took a step from him. Inhaled a huge gulp of air. Tried to regain logical thought. “That’s what you took away from this? Absolutely not. I’m not hiding from the man. He’s not going to ruin my life more than he already has.”
“At least stay on the case,” Russo said. “If you won’t let me try to protect you, then the next best thing is to catch Wilkes before he can act.”
“I’ll stay through tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll finish the interviews here as promised.”
“I can’t get us down to Texas tomorrow. The next day.”
“We’ll see.” I pulled open the door and let myself inside.
“Let me take a look around your room.” Russo gave me the tiniest of smiles. “Wilkes could be hiding in there.”
“Yeah, right. Nice try.”
Russo followed me to the elevator and rode up with me in silence. He walked me to the door, watched me walk inside. Our eyes met across the threshold. When I shut the door and latched it, I leaned against the beige wood and fought the urge to glimpse out the peephole.
I lost the battle and peeked.
Russo stood perfectly still, one hand perched against his forehead. He stared at his feet, a pensive expression on his face. It was a long minute before finally, he turned and disappeared down the hallway.
I was left alone—me and my letters from Ramone Wilkes.
Chapter 6
“I’ll take the lead,” I told Russo. “If that’s okay with you.”
Russo threw the rental vehicle into park and shut off the engine. “Whatever the consultant wants, Honorary Special Agent Kate Rosetti.”
