by Linda Berry
Sidney felt a new wave of nausea when she thought of how close Selena had come to being Jeff’s next victim. If she’d taken Derek to the station, or arrived on the scene just minutes later, Jeff would have gotten Selena in his car and injected her with the neurotoxin. He’d be heading to his secret lair, where he had kept Sammy for hours before killing her in the woods.
Sidney had forged into a danger zone, confronted a cold-blooded killer, and engaged in a shooting match straight out of High Noon. Only one thing had mattered. Saving Selena.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
SIDNEY ENTERED THE SMALL community hospital in Jackson at 10:00 a.m., strode down the hall, and greeted Officer Brett Carson, who was stationed outside of Jeff’s room. “Thanks for contacting me, Officer. How’s he doing?”
“Showing signs of life this morning. Hasn’t said zip, but he ate his breakfast.”
“Go ahead and take a break. I’ll be here for a while.”
“Will do.”
After the young officer left, Sidney paused at the door of the dark, cramped room, and viewed the monster in human form. She gave herself a stern warning to be on guard. She was dealing with a psychopath. Cunning. Ace actor.
Jeff lay against the pillows in the half-elevated hospital bed with his eyes closed—left arm in a sling, an IV tube snaking from the back of his right hand, his wrist cuffed to the bed, and his long, gangly body hidden beneath the covers. His disheveled blonde hair hung longer on one side where he normally combed it over his balding crown and lacquered it in place. The misplaced hair gave his face a slightly misshapen appearance. On anyone else, it would have looked comical. On Jeff, it accentuated the deformity of his character and mind.
He opened his eyes as she entered, met her gaze, didn’t flinch, just stared with a calm stillness. Cuffed, deprived of the use of either hand, and immobile due to the gunshot wound to his pelvis, he probably felt exposed and damned uncomfortable. Good.
His face altered in an instant, eyes narrowing, mouth twisting into a smirk.
She wanted to rush him, slap the condescension from his face, punish him for the misery he’d inflicted on so many people. Recalling his hold on Selena in the forest with the needle held to her throat and the cold-blooded look in his eyes as he shot Sidney, she experienced a flash of white-hot rage. She forced down her fury, pushed a chair right up to his bed, seated herself, and waited for Jeff to make the first move.
“What do you want? Come to gloat?”
“Just came to talk. Thought you might want to get some weight off your chest.”
“Talk to my public defender.” He stared at her with open contempt, then turned his face to the wall.
Officer Carson had updated her on Jeff’s condition throughout the day yesterday. Jeff had been groggy, in and out of sleep, and she knew she wouldn’t get much out of him, which suited her fine. She’d been preoccupied processing details of the homicides, reviewing lab results, dealing with the news teams that swept into town like a flash flood in a dry gulch.
“You won’t have a public defender assigned to you until after your first appearance in court, at which time you’ll be able to apply for one. Until then, it’s just you and me.”
For some time, Jeff didn’t move. She sat in silence, except for the sounds filtering in from the corridor—the soft voices of nurses navigating their mobile workstations in and out of neighboring rooms. Realizing it could be a long wait, Sidney pulled her phone from her duty belt and occupied herself checking messages and texting replies.
Snores. Jeff had fallen asleep. He woke twenty minutes later and blinked when he saw Sidney still rooted to the chair. He pressed the call button, closed his eyes. When a male nurse appeared, Jeff asked for coffee.
“May I have a cup, too, please?” Sidney said.
The nurse took in her uniform and nametag and gave her a respectful nod. “I’ll grab some from the break room, Chief Becker.”
She and Jeff ignored each other. The coffee arrived. His was in a tall plastic cup with a straw, which the nurse positioned on his food tray close enough for him to sip.
Minutes later, his cup was empty. So was hers. She slouched a little in her seat to make her posture nonthreatening, and he could look down at her, giving him the advantage in their power play.
“Get this tray out of my face,” Jeff demanded. “And open those fucking curtains.”
She knew he felt vulnerable and needed to assert his power. Sidney moved the tray against the wall, snapped open the curtains to let the morning light fall into the room, and reseated herself.
“Thanks.” His expression revealed a mixture of relief and wariness. He’d been alone in the dark room. No TV. No newspapers. She certainly wasn’t his first choice for company, but still, she disrupted what must have been mind-numbing boredom. His curiosity about what the world was saying about him had to be burning him alive. She could play off that. “I’m not going away, Jeff. You may as well talk to me.”
“I’m not confessing anything.”
“We don’t need a confession. We have you on three counts of murder. Ironclad.” She pulled her phone from her breast pocket, set it to record.
“No way you can pin three murders on me.” He stared at the phone, his tone defiant.
“I didn’t even mention two counts of attempted murder. Selena, and me. One murder, or three, doesn’t make much difference. You can only serve one lifetime in prison.”
He glared.
“You were careful, Jeff. I’ll give you that.” She controlled her tone to sound nonjudgmental. “You did a lot of things right. You had us stumped for three years.”
“You’ve got nothing on me.”
“Bear with me. Let’s start with Sammy.”
A sharp alertness tightened his features.
“We can place you within the immediate vicinity of her murder at the time of her death. Too bad you hit that elk.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Your truck left red paint chips on the highway and pieces of a broken headlight. They match your truck perfectly, like puzzle pieces.”
Nervous laugh. “So, I hit an elk. Proves nothing.”
She could feel the tension emanating from him, although he tried to hide it. “You should be looking at Derek,” he said.
“Ah, yes. It was skillful the way you pointed all the arrows at Derek. But thanks to you, he has an alibi for the time of Samantha’s death. He stopped to help the county worker move that elk you hit off the road. Meanwhile, you were chasing Ann, then killing Samantha. We found the sweatshirt you wore that night. Bailey’s saliva is on it—you know, where he tore that hole in it.”
A muscle twitched near his jaw.
“Let’s move on to Satoshi. Clever the way you set it up to look like a suicide. Leaving the blade behind, stashing her car at the scene.” Sidney half-smiled. “Good move. Except you staged her body the exact same way you staged Mimi and Sammy. Only the killer knew how to do that. You were so certain you had the suicide ruling all wrapped up, you felt comfortable enough to return to Satoshi’s cottage last week. A palm print we found on her bedroom window, is yours. The footprints on her porch match your boots perfectly. The semen we found on her bedroom carpet matches your DNA.”
Almost imperceptibly, he flinched.
“The neurotoxin you were going to inject into Selena was the same as that found in Mimi and Samantha. You’re the only one who had access to Derek’s lab. Any way you look at it, we have you nailed for three murders.” She paused a few beats to let her words sink in. “We know you watched the three women. Planned everything. Left nothing to chance. But fate stepped in. ‘The best laid plans of mice and men,’ right Jeff?”
Silence.
“The story is all over the press. It went national.”
Jeff couldn’t hide the sudden gleam of interest in his eyes.
She paused, making him wait, recalling the press conference yesterday, where she and Mayor Burke confronted a rowdy herd of repo
rters from all over the country. Sidney appreciated that Mayor Burke took the blunt force of the questions, expressing in equal measure his sympathy to the victims of the families and his pride in the outstanding work of his police department. When it was her turn to step into the limelight, Sidney did her best to close off her emotions and answer the questions with objectivity. Her experience with the media in Oakland had taught her to relate only the bare facts. After being pummeled for ten minutes, she smiled and moved away, ignoring the microphones being thrust in front of her, while Granger and Amanda helped her shove through the reporters trying to block her path back into the station.
“What are they saying?” Jeff’s voice cut into her thoughts.
“Any damn thing about you they want. Reporters are having a field day at your expense. They say you raped and tortured those women. That sex was your primary motivation.”
His eyes narrowed, and he watched her like a reptile. Still. Emotionless.
“They’re saying you’re a monster. Just another run-of-the-mill serial murderer. Is that how you want to be remembered?”
He was quiet for a long moment, staring at his wrist cuffed to the bedrail. His hand clenched into a fist, then slowly relaxed. She caught a glimpse of fury in his eyes, then it was gone.
“I’m different from ordinary people,” Jeff said, meeting her eyes. His expression and tone had shifted. The defiant, nerdy journalist was suddenly back. “But I’m no monster. Someday the world will know the truth. I intend to write a book about every detail.”
She imagined him as she had always known him, dressed in his standard khaki Dockers and polo shirt, his Nikon camera held high, flashing pictures of people around town for his innocuous stories. A brilliant role to hide behind all these years, while the beast inside calmly contemplated murder and rape. Sidney was sickened, but she kept her voice calm, firm. “Even if you win a Pulitzer, Jeff, it won’t save you from a lethal injection.”
She watched the muscles tighten and loosen on his face, like he was grinding his teeth. She continued. “However, if you cooperate, talk to me, I could take the death sentence off the table. You could roost in a cozy cell. Write your book. Let the world know the inner workings of your mind. Maybe Hollywood will come calling to turn your story into a movie. You could get active on social media. Build a huge fan base.”
His eyes widened minutely, glimmered with interest.
“Let me help you out. If you fill in a few blanks for me, I can hold a press conference, set the news media straight. Let you watch it on TV.”
She endured a long silence. He became calm and still, calculation in his eyes, until finally, he nodded.
Her adrenalin hummed. She had his cooperation. He agreed to confess. “Is it true what the reporters are saying? That sex was your motivation for abducting the women?”
“I didn’t touch them… in that way.”
“We found evidence on Sammy’s body that says you did. You were kind enough to leave a pubic hair behind.”
His pale blue eyes watched her, the intensity of the emotion behind them powerful.
Then he looked away, gazed out the window for a long moment. A smile tugged at his mouth.
She guessed he was remembering what he did to Samantha. Sick bastard. Watching his lewd expression made Sidney’s skin crawl.
He pulled himself from his distraction and glanced her way. Noting her disgust, the smile was extinguished. “I’m no run-of-the-mill killer, Chief Becker. They’re missing the nuances. The finesse. The sheer beauty of the ritual.”
“Your murders were beautifully orchestrated, I’ll give you that.”
“Yes, they were. Clean. Elegant. Simple. The ladies died with dignity. Remember Sammy’s face? She looked peaceful in death. Even amused. So did Mimi and Satoshi.”
Sammy’s wide-eyed stare haunted Sidney. She still had nightmares depicting the last few minutes of the young woman’s life. The terror. The horror. The coldness in Sidney’s stomach moved up to her chest, felt like a hand squeezing her heart. She swallowed, concealing her feelings, and focused on her job. She needed to find out where Jeff took the women after injecting them. His lair. “Help me paint the complete picture. What did you do with Sammy before you killed her? You spent considerable time with her. Twelve hours.”
He gave her a cold stare. “We ate pizza. Watched reruns of Father Knows Best and Leave it to Beaver.”
“That’s amusing, Jeff.” She gave him a tight smile. “You mentioned some kind of ritual. The butterflies, the I Ching readings. Was it spiritual?”
He thought for a moment. “Yes. Spiritual.”
Sidney knew he was lying. The butterflies were merely clues he planted to direct the investigation to Derek. She humored him. “Ordained by the oracle?”
“Yes. I was advised how to proceed. Step by step. I was gentle with Sammy. Caring. She was in a safe place.”
“You had a romantic evening with her?”
“Romantic? No. Sacred. Don’t misrepresent my intention. Where one may see beauty, others see ugliness. What is death, Chief Becker, but a doorway to paradise.”
What a crock. She saw only sadism in the way Jeff dragged Sammy through the forest, her bare feet scratched and bleeding, and in the way he glued her eyelids open so she could watch him torture her.
Another rapid transformation in Jeff’s demeanor took place. His mouth turned downward and something like sorrow darkened his eyes. He made a small strangling sound that might have been a whimper, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
A victim now. Misunderstood.
“You think it was easy to kill them?” Tears spilled over, ran unchecked down his cheeks, and his voice quivered. “This is hard to talk about.”
Burying her disgust, Sidney touched his hand and said gently. “I understand. We’ll take it slow.”
Seconds passed. Once he got himself under control, he zeroed back in on her as though gauging her reaction.
She tried to look sympathetic.
“Please include this quote from Lao Tzu.” He stared at the phone as though it were a transmitter going out to an audience of millions and said with careful enunciation, “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone gives you courage.”
“Please explain how that applies to your ritual.”
“I loved Sammy deeply, which gave her the strength to face eternity.”
Though he looked as serious as a choirboy at the confessional, she found the sexual connotation repugnant. Was Jeff playing her? “Let’s start at the beginning. Why did you choose Mimi Matsui?”
He sniffed. “Derek picked her.”
“Derek?”
“He was sleeping with her.”
Her eyebrows arched.
“I see that surprises you,” he said. “Derek isn’t what he seems. A lot going on behind his polished, upper class façade. Those practice sessions he had with Mimi weren’t just about music.”
“How do you know this?”
“I watch. I listen. Derek also had close relationships with Sammy and Satoshi.”
“One at a time, Jeff. Back to Mimi. How long was she involved with Derek?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Couple months. Mimi was crazy about him. I could see it in the way she looked at him. My guess, she was going to leave Miko. That’s when Derek bowed out. He doesn’t like anything messy. He’s compulsive that way. See his house? Neat as a pin.”
“Back to Mimi.”
“Ah, Mimi.” His eyes took on a dreamy look. “She was beautiful and tempestuous. Normally, I don’t go for the unattainable type. I know my place. But after she lost Derek, I figured she was lonely and could use some comfort. I stepped into the void. Befriended her. Interviewed her. Wrote a great article publicizing her concert with Derek. That night, the church was packed. Practically the whole fucking town showed up. Afterward, when everyone left, and we were alone, I figured she’d show some gratitude. I was wrong.” His expression changed, eyes igniting with anger. “When I tried to kis
s her, she went psycho on me. Slugged me. Broke my glasses.”
The glasses he wasn’t wearing when he tried to abduct Selena and wasn’t wearing now. All these years, just part of his disguise. “Sorry to hear that. Must have made you mad.”
“Pissed me off royally.”
His face contorted, and Sidney caught a glimpse of some emotion so intense it chilled her. “So you decided to teach her a lesson.”
“Damned straight. Let karma be my guide.”
“You watched her.” Her voice sounded hollow, but Jeff didn’t seem to notice. He was on a roll.
“Yeah, I watched her. Bided my time. I am a patient man.”
A cold knot of dread formed in Sidney’s chest. She didn’t want to hear the details. She wanted to take a time-out and leave the room. Steady her resolve. Shed the residue of disgust that had crept over her. But she knew she couldn’t shatter Jeff’s momentum. She might not get it back.
He continued smoothly, convinced he had a rapt audience. A begrudging admirer. “I waited until she was alone at the church one evening. Paid her a visit. It was child’s play. So easy to get up close and stick her with the needle. A triumphant moment, I can tell you. The hellcat was tamed.” Very much amused for some reason, Jeff met her eyes and smiled. “I left her in the trunk of my car for a couple hours to show her who was boss.”
Sidney loathed this man. She controlled herself with effort. “Go on.”
“Boy, was Mimi grateful when I took her into the warm cabin.”
Cabin. There was the slip Sidney had been waiting for. Where was this cabin? “How did you know she was grateful?” She couldn’t move or talk.
“I understand women in a unique way.” His eyes sparkled, as though he was simply sharing details of his prowess at tennis or golf. “What every woman really wants is to be taken care of by a man. Have her role clearly defined. Have a blueprint to follow.”
