Chris Carter - An Evil Mind

Hunter took a step back from the Plexiglas.

‘So I planned everything to look like a robbery,’ Lucien said. ‘I killed two men just to get their fingerprints. I knew they would never be found, so no matter how hard and long the police searched for them, the prints would never be matched to anyone. I returned to Los Angeles. I saw the two of you together again, and then I followed her back to her place.’

Even Taylor was now starting to feel numb.

‘There was no torture,’ Lucien added. ‘No sexual gratification. I did it as fast as I could.’

‘No torture?’ Taylor interjected. ‘Robert said that there were stab wounds all over her body.’

‘Post-mortem,’ Lucien replied, his eyes seeking Hunter. ‘If the autopsy team was competent enough, they should’ve found out that her first wound, the one to her throat, was the fatal one. All the others were inflicted post-mortem. That was part of the “robbery-deception” plan.’

That fact had always intrigued Hunter once he’d read the autopsy report. He had put it down to a burst of anger from the perpetrators because Jessica was engaged to a police officer.

‘I staged the scene with the broken picture frames, the vandalized photographs, the disturbed house and the stolen jewelry and money. And that was it. That’s how it happened. That’s why it happened.’

Hunter’s eyes remained unblinking on Lucien’s face as he stepped up against the Plexiglas once again, the fingers on both of his hands still clenched into fists.

‘You were right before, Lucien.’ His voice was so calm, it scared Taylor. ‘Screw being a detective. Screw what I’ve sworn to uphold. You are a dead man.’

He turned and walked out of that corridor and basement.

Ninety seconds later, Hunter and Taylor were standing inside Director Adrian Kennedy’s office. Doctor Lambert was also there.

‘I understand that this whole scenario has changed for you, Robert,’ Kennedy said, as Hunter stood looking out the window. ‘No one could’ve anticipated that sort of revelation, and I am deeply sorry. I’m not going to lie to you and say that I completely understand how you feel, because I don’t. No one does. But I have a pretty good idea.’ Kennedy’s voice sounded fatigued.

He walked over to his desk and picked up a printout that was by his computer monitor before retrieving his reading glasses from his breast pocket.

‘But there’s one thing that hasn’t changed,’ he said before reading from the printout. ‘Madeleine Reed, twenty-three years old, born in Blue Springs City, Missouri, but at the time was living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She was last seen by her housemate on April 9, just before she left her apartment to go out for dinner with someone she’d met a few days earlier in a bar. Madeleine never came back that night, which her housemate found strange, because Maddy — that’s what everyone called her — didn’t make a habit of spending the whole night with anyone on her first date.’

Hunter kept his focus on the world outside Kennedy’s window.

‘Two days later, she still hadn’t turned up,’ Kennedy added. ‘That was when the housemate, someone called Selena Nunez, went down to the police station and reported her as missing. Despite all efforts from the missing-persons’ investigators, they’ve got absolutely nothing. No one knows what this mysterious man who took her out for dinner on the evening of April 9 looks like. The barman at the bar Madeleine was the night before remembers her. He also remembers seeing her talking with someone who looked to be a little older than her, but he didn’t pay enough attention to the man’s face to be able to give the police an accurate description.’ Kennedy adjusted his reading glasses on his nose. ‘Madeleine worked for CancerCare. Her specific job was to provide support and friendship to children with terminal cancer, Robert. She’s a good person.’

Kennedy offered the printout to Hunter.

Hunter didn’t move.

‘Look at her, Robert.’

A few seconds went by before Hunter finally dragged his eyes away from the window and onto the sheet of paper Kennedy had in his hand. Attached to it was a second printout — a 6x4 portrait photograph of Madeleine Reed. She was a very attractive woman, with light and seemingly smooth skin, eyes that had a slightly oriental appearance and were green in color, and hair that dropped in a vibrant black sheen past her shoulders. The smile she had on when the photograph was taken looked pure and innocent. She looked happy.

‘The fact that Lucien might know where Madeleine Reed is being kept hasn’t changed, Robert,’ Kennedy said again. ‘You can’t walk away from this now. You can’t turn your back on her.’

Hunter studied the photograph for a while longer before returning the sheet to the director in silence.

Kennedy took the opportunity to press on. ‘I know you don’t work for me, Robert, so I can’t order you to do anything, but I do know you. I know your moral values. I know what you stand for and what you’ve dedicated your life to. And if you allow your emotions to dictate your actions now, no matter how hurt and angry you feel inside, you won’t be able to live with yourself later. You won’t be able to face yourself in the mirror. You know that full well.’

A headache was pinching and pricking behind Hunter’s eyes.

‘I’ve been searching for Jessica’s killers for twenty years, Adrian.’ Hunter’s voice was low and full of hurt. ‘Not a day has gone by since that I don’t regret not being there for her that night. Not a day has gone by since that I haven’t promised her and myself that I would find them, and when I did, I would make them pay, no matter the consequences to myself.’

‘I understand that,’ Kennedy said.

‘Do you?’ Hunter questioned. ‘Do you, really?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘She was pregnant,’ Hunter said.

The air was knocked out of Kennedy’s lungs. He looked back at Hunter with confusion on his face.

‘Jessica was pregnant,’ Hunter repeated it. ‘We had found out that morning, through one of those off-the-shelf pregnancy tests, but we both knew it was true. That was the reason for her booking the restaurant that night. We were supposed to be celebrating. We were both. .’ Hunter paused to catch his breath: ‘. . so happy.’

Taylor felt a paralyzing chill run through her. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what, or how.

‘Lucien didn’t only take the woman that I was supposed to marry from me, Adrian,’ Hunter said. ‘He took away the family I was supposed to have.’

Kennedy looked down at the floor in solemn silence. His way of paying his respects and recognizing Hunter’s pain.

‘I’m sorry, Robert,’ Kennedy finally said. ‘I never knew that.’

‘No one did,’ Hunter replied. ‘Not even her family. We wanted to wait until Jess had seen the doctor so we had official confirmation.’ Hunter’s gaze returned to the window. ‘I asked the coroner to omit it from the autopsy report. That was not the way I wanted her parents to find out, and I saw no point in adding to their pain.’

‘I can only imagine your pain, your anger, and how devastating that must’ve been for you, Robert,’ Kennedy said after a long and dark silence. ‘And I am so sorry.’

‘And nevertheless you still want to put me inside an enclosed space with the person who I’ve been searching for for twenty years and swore revenge on, without the security of the Plexiglas wall between us.’

‘He’s been caught, Robert,’ Kennedy said back, in a measured voice. ‘Lucien is sitting in an underground, escape-proof prison cell five levels below the FBI’s Behavioral Science Unit. He is going to pay for everything he’s done. He’s going to pay for what he did to Jessica and to you.’ He pointed to the printout. ‘But this girl may die if you don’t get in that plane with Lucien. I know you don’t want to let that happen.’