by Rick Murcer
“What else did your research show you?”
“About you or about me?”
Her voice grew softer yet, and Manny sat up straighter. There was nothing about her mannerisms that made him comfortable with his expectations of Aphrodite. He’d thought this woman, this admitted killer of men, could very well be the coldest, most pure murderer to cross his path. His confusion and curiosity were fueled even more by her apparent change of behavior, with “apparent” still existing as the operative word.
“I think I’m more interested in you, Lily. You can’t believe everything you read, so your research regarding me might be a bit off.”
“Maybe, Agent, but you can’t bullshit a bullshitter and of that I’m sure.”
Sipping his coffee, Manny’s eyes moved to his hands. Test number two. He gave it a three count and glanced back at her. She’d already moved her head back into that defeated position like children do who’ve been caught doing whatever it was that had been forbidden. Except children were far more concerned with the consequences of their disobedience than actually feeling any regret. Except in Lily’s case, he sensed something more. True sorrow? He still wasn’t sure.
Manny searched Lily’s hands. As he moved his glance toward her bowed head, she raised it again. Her eyes said again what his mind couldn’t grasp. Time for the third and final test.
“Fair enough. So let’s cut through the bullshit, Lily. Tell me why you came here. Why you think you can finish my statement regarding your profile.”
“Is this another way to get me to confess, Agent? I’ve done that. I’ve killed men and I gave details.”
“No, this goes beyond that. You came here for a reason and I want to know what that is.”
“Are you ready for it? Can you handle a truth that flies in the face of all your other truths?”
Taking a deep breath, Manny nodded. No reason to say another word because this was her stage.
“Maybe you are.”
Sitting back, she crossed her legs, gathered her thoughts, then began.
“It was always missing. I didn’t know what for sure. From as far back as I can remember, something was absent. What other kids had, what my dad had, what my mother didn’t. I won’t go into it much because you know the type, the profile of a typical psychopath; I was it, except multiply it by ten. Killing small animals, setting fires, bed wetting, right down to wanting to be a warrior that wiped out entire populations.”
“As I grew older, realizing how much trouble I could get into by not controlling those thoughts and urges, I learned to play the game, all the while searching for a piece of me that I wouldn’t be able to recognize anyway. It was kind of like trying to describe colors. I understood black and white, but not red, or green, or purple. My dad did his best because he knew there was something off. I think he also knew that he was shoveling sand against the tide. I just wasn’t like other kids, no matter how much he wanted me to be.”
Uncrossing her legs, she leaned forward, scanning his face. She must have been satisfied that she wasn’t being played and that he was genuinely interested in her story.
“Once I got into my late teens, I started writing serial killers all over the world, under the guise of research or whatever reason came to mind. I even visited a few back home. Oddly, most of them answered and most in the way you’d expect. Perverted, self-centered, seeking to control me by writing anything that might shock a seventeen-year-old. But I did get two responses that fascinated me. They said that they could tell I was part of the brotherhood simply by my questions, and one even wished me luck.”
“But still no answers to why you were you?”
“No, none. I figured I was the mutation in the gene pool and that was it.”
“So why start the killing now?”
“You mean the all-knowing trigger event? You can double mine. I was attacked and lost my left foot and almost my left hand. The doctors reattached the hand but the foot isn’t real and, oddly enough, that doesn’t bother me. Also, during my stay in the hospital, I learned my dad had been shot and killed. For one brief, unexplainable moment, I felt something. Anger, maybe, but it passed so fast that I still question if it had been real. So, since he was gone and I didn’t have to worry about being discovered, so to speak, I decided to see how this freedom might work when I didn’t have to hold back. A couple of months later, I moved here, met Lance . . . Lance Morgan and played out my wildest fantasy.”
Tears welled in her eyes but she never wavered.
“I-I thought it the most amazing experience of my life. The power, the pure emotion I received was beyond anything I’d ever imagined. That happened three more times and, each occasion, I needed it more.”
Shaking her head slowly, she set her jaw. “You don’t know, Agent Williams, what it’s like to be in the dark all of your life and then walk into the sun. All I wanted to do was stay there and not go back to where I’d been . . . until tonight.”
“I understand that, at least a little, Lily. I think we all do.”
There was something akin to gratitude residing in her expression, and Manny felt the chill run down his spine. She was the best liar he’d ever encountered, or . . .
“What happened tonight?”
Making every effort to steel herself, Lily wiped at the new rivulet of tears and sighed.
“Love, Agent, love happened tonight.”
It was all he could do to stop his jaw from hitting his shoes. His mind was already swimming with the ramifications of the bizarre behavior of turning herself in, but love out of the mouth of a serial killer was beyond his scope of understanding.
Manny cleared his throat. “Tell me about that.”
The tired, sad smile returned and, at that moment, Manny knew everything she would say was truth. There was something else he knew. He’d let her finish, however.
“Not much to say. I guess that old saying about having to be there applies. I was well on the way to number five when my boss, J.R., called me. He knew, somehow, what I was and what I was doing, and had followed me, forcing me to open the door and talk to him. I did, fully intending to make him number six, but when I saw the look on his face as I raised the knife to kill a man that would sacrifice his life for his friends, something broke inside of me. I don’t know how else to explain it. It was like someone opened the floodgates, and all of the times my father had told me he loved me registered somehow through this old man, on his knees, begging for the life of a friend. He stared right through my soul. A soul I never knew was mine. His eyes carried nothing except . . . forgiveness and . . . caring. I-I still don’t . . .”
Turning her hands over, she shrugged. “The flood of emotion knocked me for a loop, literally. The next thing I knew I was on the deck and J.R. Saylor was helping me up. He hugged me and told me he’d be there for me. He also said that I had to do the right thing. As strange as it seems, I knew what that meant. And that’s how we met, Manny Williams.”
“You know what this sounds like, right?”
“I do. It’s classic behavior for people like me and lays a foundation for an insanity plea, whatever the hell that truly means. But to tell you more or less wouldn’t be the truth.”
He didn’t answer right away. She wasn’t lying, at least in her own understanding, and cases of sudden mental shifts were not unprecedented. Jeffery Dahmer claimed to have become a Christian in prison and at least two psychologists believed he’d actually changed and regretted his actions. Could this be real? The implications were enormous.
The shrinks, medical doctors, and every other card-carrying profiler would want a shot at her, but they’d find what he found: an unexplainable phenomenon. No question this woman would be the case study to fly in the face of all the others.
“I believe you’re telling the truth, Lily. But there are four dead men here.”
“I know, and I’ll see them in my mind for the rest of my life. I’ll cooperate anyway I can and accept whatever comes down as punishment,” she said, her voice car
rying a sense of relief.
The metal door opened and Sophie strolled in, placing a file on the table containing information about Lily A. Cruz.
“This one’s going to blow your mind, Manny. Do you know?”
“I do, Sophie, I do.”
Turning back to Aphrodite, he ran his hand through his hair.
“I think your dad would be proud. What you did would break his heart, but he’d be pleased with you for turning yourself in.”
“So you know who I am?” she asked.
“He was a good man. I met your dad, Detective Carlos Ruiz, in Puerto Rico three months ago. He tried to save his missing daughter and, in the end, wanted to do the right thing too, Anna Ruiz.”
CHAPTER-42
Rubbing his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, Manny realized just how tired he was. Not just from the sleep deprivation this job courted consistently, but from the emotional release of actually putting the person responsible for killing innocent men behind bars. Even though they hadn’t actually caught her in the true sense, the all-important input from someone like J.R. Saylor had helped turn the trick. That’s how these cases were sometimes resolved. Good people doing good things.
Never having to worry about Anna Ruiz—a.k.a, Lily Cruz, a.k.a, Aphrodite—killing another human lifted a burden from Manny not bore by many. Never mind the sense of justice for families and friends of the murdered victims. He thought of Ginny Krantz and wondered if there could truly be a sense of justice. Nothing could be done to bring the dead back to life, at least not in this world.
He shifted in his chair, rubbing his eyes again. The others would join him in the conference room shortly for one last debriefing before they flew home—and home was where he wanted to be. Chloe was constantly in his thoughts and the anticipation of spending an enormous amount of time with her was practically indescribable. Their relationship, their marriage, had suffered far too many distractions and interruptions and he vowed that was over. Even though they’d said I do, they’d really only known each other for less than two years; there was much to discover about his red-headed beauty. He wanted to know more of her joys, her pleasure, and revel in the intoxicating smile that had captured him almost immediately. He needed to understand more of her fears, her infirmities, and help to take them all away to the best of his ability. He was in this for the long haul, and in deep. Was there any other way to build a relationship than to commit mind, body, and soul to it? Any other way to love another? Not for him.
Love. Such a simple but powerful concept that could change a life in a microsecond as Anna claimed it had with her. Had her mind truly been unlocked like she said to feel so deeply so quickly?
For the one-hundredth time, he went over the unexpected vein of their conversation and couldn’t shake the thread of truth she espoused—or the years of experience that said she was playing the system, that she was the most talented psychopath he’d encountered. The future would tell. And, truthfully, it was hard to ignore the tiny voice speaking hope to him; he wanted her to be real, to see that she’d exorcised the demon.
Josh and Alex filed through the door, followed by Dean and Sophie who were both grinning and snickering about something, probably a joke only the two of them would appreciate. Dean’s Princess was becoming more enamored with him, even if she didn’t see it.
A few minutes later, Captain Tanner and his head CSI, Dana Boytin, entered, followed by one of the blues toting a tray with coffee and bagels. Both aromas hinting that they’d just been freshly created.
It was the little things.
There was no Ginny Krantz, which he expected, and no Ben Garcia, her partner. They’d been working eighteen-hour days so a little time off was in order, and Manny was sure the debriefing would be short and to the point anyway.
After pouring coffee and allowing a few minutes of small talk, Josh got to it, as he always did.
“This case hardly ended in any way we expected. In fact, sometimes we don’t catch the unsub, let alone have them walk in and give themselves up.”
“I think that’s safe to say,” agreed Tanner. “You folks did good work and I think it would have been only a matter of time before your profile and forensic information would have panned out. At the very least, you nabbed a Peeping Tom and gave us information regarding the production of illegal toxins that will lead to some arrests in our fine county.”
“I believe you’re right there and, God forbid, if you have anything similar to this occur again, you’ll have a place to start. And, of course, you have us,” said Josh.
“Not to mention, you can bring my butt down here anytime. This weather is more my style,” said Sophie, reaching for more coffee.
“That’s a deal, Agent. Maybe we can go shopping too. I’ve seen your outfits and I’m always lookin’ to upgrade,” answered Dana with her infectious grin.
“Oh damn, now it’s on. Which one did you like best?” said Sophie.
“Okay, you two can chat on your own time,” interrupted Josh, shaking his head and turning back to Tanner. “We’ll get our final reports to you, and I’d appreciate the same from your department. We want to build ViCAP into the best database regarding violent offenders possible, and everything regarding this case will help do that.”
“We’re also including our interviews with J.R. Saylor and Aphrodite’s last intended victim to the reports,” said Sophie. “It’ll make for some interesting reading, even for us that don’t read much. They both also agreed to talk to you whenever you’d like. Their statements are pretty cut and dried. That’s not good for Anna Ruiz.”
Tanner nodded, moving past Sophie, Josh, Dean, and Alex, then fixing on Manny.
“I’m sure your CSI people will have insight on the science side. What I really want to know is: what’s going on with Anna Ruiz, really going on with her.”
Tanner was polite, as always, but on this occasion, there was a different edge in his voice. The woman who’d killed his people rested in his jail and Manny suspected there was a form of Carolina justice Tanner wanted to be a part of. He also was just as sure that the captain wasn’t going to appreciate the answer to his questions, on two levels.
“Fair enough. What do you think, Manny?” asked Josh Corner, turning that cobalt-blue stare in his direction. Manny returned a quick look that called Josh a chicken shit. His boss’s eyes twinkled, but he stayed silent.
“Captain, I truly don’t know what to think regarding her actions. She seems sincere, but there will be dozens of others, maybe more qualified than me, that will want to dissect her actions, her psychology, and runs tests on her, physiologically.”
Tanner wiped his hand across his mouth. “I’m not sure about others being better at this type of thing than you, so I want a real life, down south, straight-ass answer.”
“I’ll only be giving you my opinion. I’ll, of course, be honest. You deserve that. While it’s rare, she could have had a condition that really wasn’t psychopathic at all. In extremely severe cases of repression, where a terrible experience is buried deep in the memory along with any emotions that might have been attached to the event or the person involved with that experience, people can block any form of emotion. It is a coping device like no other. If something that her boss J.R. did triggered an event to spark a thought, who knows what can really go on in someone’s psyche? Spontaneous recovery is not unheard of in the mental as well as the physical.”
“Or?”
“Or she’s got an agenda that’s beyond my ability to understand and she’s the best of the best.”
“With that in mind, captain, there’s no way we can leave her here to undergo local charges and a subsequent trial. I guess you already understand that,” added Josh.
Tanner stood, his face displaying the anger he’d been trying to hide since the meeting began.
Manny understood what happened when the Feds pulled the jurisdiction card, but Tanner’s act wasn’t going to change anything. Anna was going to a federal maximum security prison and would be stu
died like a lab rat that had grown a third eye.
“You bastards always get your way, don’t you? Well, not on this one. I’ll make—”
“Tanner,” said Josh, calmly. “She’s already on her way out of North Carolina. I had her removed from your custody an hour ago.”
“You what?”
For one brief moment, Manny wondered whether Tanner was going to pull his piece. He found himself putting his hand on his Glock.
Tanner didn’t, but his face grew darker.
“You ARE sons of bitches, all of you. Get out of my building before I think of a reason to toss your collective asses in jail.”
After one last threatening look, he stormed out, Dana on his heels, motioning for Sophie to call her.
Alex looked at Dean. “That went well.”
“Yep. Thinking the same thing,” said Dean.
“I guess he won’t be taking us to breakfast. And, damn, I like grits,” said Sophie.
Josh sighed as he stood and put on his suit coat. “I hate doing that. It’s just that we had no choice.”
“You’re right. For a hundred reasons,” said Manny. “Can we get the hell out of here?”
“We can.”
As they exited the building and approached the SUV that would take them to Wilmington’s airport, Josh’s phone got his attention. He glanced at the screen, then rolled his eyes.
“This is Corner.”
Manny was hit with a déjà vu that he’d felt far too many times.
“Damn it. Are you sure? Okay. Let me know when you get more information.”
His boss put his phone in his pocket, then rubbed his face with both hands.
“Now what?” asked Sophie.
“That was Braxton Smythe. One of his folks got a call that someone found a body at a rest stop near Asheville, North Carolina. Max Tucker has been shot in the head, twice. Just like Michael Garity.”
