Paul Cleave - Collecting Cooper

“Have you read Cooper Riley’s book?” I ask.

“Just how did you manage to get a copy of that, Tate?” Schroder asks.

“Yes, Detective Schroder gave me a copy when he updated me on the case,” Barlow says. “It’s very poorly written,” he adds, “and inconsistent. The man believes he knows much more than he does, and he gives that away with his conclusions. I can do a much better job. In fact it’s something I’ve been thinking about for the last few years, and perhaps, well, I hate to sound like an opportunist, but perhaps there may even be some material here for it.”

“Jesus. .” I say.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says, “but without people like me studying people like Adrian and Cooper, people like you wouldn’t have a clue where to begin.”

“Okay, point taken,” I say, annoyed that he’s made a good one. I’m just thrilled that at least somebody can make money from all this death and misery. “But there is something I still don’t get.”

“Just the one thing, Tate?” Schroder says.

I ignore the jibe. “Adrian wanted revenge on Pamela Deans and he killed her,” I say. “If he wants revenge on Cooper Riley, why not just kill him too?”

Barlow raises his eyes and his forehead twists into a string of wrinkles. “And that’s the big question, isn’t it? Yes, I’ve been giving it some thought. I don’t believe revenge is the motivation behind Cooper Riley’s abduction.”

“No? Then what?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“I think it’s fascination.”

“Fascination?” Schroder repeats.

“I think when Cooper Riley was coming out here conducting his interviews and his tests, I think Adrian became obsessed with him.”

“You think he’s taken Cooper to own him?” I ask.

“It makes sense.”

And it does make sense. I should have seen it earlier. Should have figured it out from the moment I saw the cell downstairs.

“If he’s that obsessed, why wait three years?” Schroder asks.

“He will have needed to build the courage to act,” Barlow says, “and needed to acquire the tools. If it was about revenge then Cooper would already be dead. I’m certain of it. You say Adrian used a Taser? Why not use a knife, or a gun? No, it’s not about killing. It’s about collecting.”

Ritchie Munroe said he taught Adrian to drive. That had to be part of it. Until recently, Adrian didn’t have the means to bring somebody out here. It’s not like he could have put Cooper into the trunk of a taxi.

“You think Adrian knew Cooper was a killer?” I ask.

“It would suggest a greater degree of intelligence than we first thought,” Barlow says. “It’s more likely a great degree of luck.”

“You think he just happened to be following Cooper and found out he was a serial killer?” Schroder asks.

“The alternative would mean he’s better at doing our job than we are,” I say. “There’s no way he could have figured out Cooper was a serial killer.”

“Our job?” Schroder asks.

“You know what I mean.”

“I agree,” Barlow says. “The question now is just how much longer is Adrian’s luck going to hold out?”

Only it’s not Adrian’s luck I’m thinking about. It’s Emma Green’s. She was lucky Cooper was abducted, but it could mean she’s been without food and water since Monday night. I know on average a person can last around four days, give or take, without water, but these aren’t normal conditions. With the heat wave. . well, it comes down to how hot it is where she is. The pile of dirt at the latest grave gets bigger as more skeleton is exposed. I look out at the grounds and the graves still yet to be found, praying to a God who abandoned them to not abandon Emma Green and to let me find her alive.

“Loaner is an unstable person, Detectives,” Barlow says, “and under the right stress conditions, he’ll be capable of anything-and right now, he’s stressed. Taking over his home like this, trust me, if Adrian knows what’s going on out here he’s going to enter full panic mode, and that means he’s going to be capable of almost anything.”

“And Melissa X?” I ask, and I look over at Schroder.

“He knows about her,” Schroder says, giving me the okay to keep talking.

“Anything happening there?” I ask.

Schroder shakes his head. “We’re talking to her friends and family and trying to build up a profile,” he says.

“She’s not the same person she was before Riley attacked her, assuming that’s what happened,” Barlow says. “Part of her has taken on the role of her dead sister, and is looking for revenge.”

“And the other part?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I couldn’t tell you. Some would suggest the other part is pure evil, but I don’t think that’s the case. The person she is now, that’s a product of her past. With the right medication and the right help,” he says, but doesn’t finish the sentence, because both me and Schroder are staring at him as if he just doesn’t get it. Not everybody is meant to be cured-some people are meant to be locked away forever. It wasn’t Natalie’s fault she set foot on this path, but she’s killed innocent men while on it, and for that she has to pay.

Cooper has taken his shirt off. It’s bunched beneath his head; not the most comfortable pillow, but it’s not exactly the most comfortable room either. He’s thinking partly of Emma Green and wonders if she’s going through the exact same thing. At least she has water. Who knows, maybe after four days being tied up she’s found a way to free herself, but if she has, there’s still no way she can get out of the room. Mostly he’s thinking about Natalie Flowers, and what he’s going to do to her when he gets out of here. He’ll combine what he knows about her with what the police have found out about her, and he’s going to track her down and make her pay. He’ll see how she likes having parts of her body crushed with a pair of pliers.

He spends some time thinking about how that’s going to feel, and it is going to happen. First Adrian, and then Natalie. He understands his profession enough to know that these other women he’s been hurting are replacements for Natalie, and he wonders what will happen once he’s killed her, whether there will ever be any other urges. It interests him on a purely academic level.

His body is bathed with sweat. He has absolutely no way of knowing what time it is. It could be midnight. It could be noon. His body clock is completely out of whack. This must be how a roast chicken feels, he thinks, and undoes the front of his pants and separates the material a little. He needs water. He needs fresh air. He doesn’t know how long Adrian has been gone. Doesn’t know if the crazy son of a bitch is really going to try and abduct his mother. He hopes not. Throwing his mother into the mix will complicate things.

He can hear footsteps outside the door. Running. His first thought is that he’s about to be rescued. His second thought is that rescue could end up being a problem. The slot is thrown back and light comes into the room but not as strong as before. It’s evening. Maybe around eight o’clock.

“Tell me, honestly,” Adrian says, and he’s puffing. “How many girls have you killed?”

“Why?” Cooper asks. He makes his way to his feet and puts his shirt on. He doesn’t like the idea of Adrian seeing him half naked. He walks over to the slot and rubs the base of his sore back a little.

“The police showed up at the Grove,” Adrian says. “It was just like you said. They’re looking around.”

“Jesus, have they found anything?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I. .”

“Calm down, Adrian. How many of them are out there? Just the one car? Two cars?”