Allison Brennan - The Prey

The imposter fidgeted, crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Well, let me spell it out. We have your DNA. My DNA is on file with the FBI. Assistant Director Collins,” she motioned toward Roger, “already called for my profile to be faxed here. If you really are my brother, the DNA profiles will prove that.” She glanced at Warden Cullen, who quickly picked up the thread.

“Guard, please call up to my office and see if the fax has arrived from Washington.”

One of the guards left the room and the imposter became visibly agitated. Certainly he had heard of more than one criminal who’d been caught because of DNA. DNA was king at enough trials to make any prisoner wary.

“I, uh-” he began, then stopped.

“Tell me where Bobby MacIntosh is,” Roger said.

“I don’t know,” the prisoner whispered. His eyes darted from Rowan to Roger to the warden. “I think I need a lawyer.”

Roger slammed his fist on the table. “No!”

Warden Cullen frowned at him. Rowan leaned forward. “Sir,” she asked, “what is your name?”

“Lloyd,” he answered, his shackles rustling.

“Lloyd, my name is Rowan Smith.”

He shrugged. “I know.”

“I’m the reason Bobby wanted out of prison, right?” she prodded.

Lloyd hesitated, then nodded.

Her head spun. It was Bobby. All along it was him, and he wanted to destroy her. Take from her what he hadn’t twenty-three years ago.

She kept her voice firm and modulated. “Bobby told you about me.”

He hesitated. “I really think I need-”

Warden Cullen interrupted. “Look, Lloyd, I’ll tell you what. Anything you tell us here won’t be used against you, okay? Just answer their questions.”

Lloyd didn’t look convinced. “He’ll kill me if I talk.”

Rowan stared at him. “I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

“Ms. Smith-” Warden Cullen warned.

The guard returned with two pieces of official-looking paper. He handed them to the warden, who read them and nodded. Lloyd paled, his pasty complexion becoming even whiter.

Cullen spoke. “This proves you’re not Robert MacIntosh. Do you want to cooperate or be charged with accessory to murder?”

“Murder? But she’s not dead!”

“Bobby started with others,” Rowan said. “He plans to end with me. But I have no intention of letting him kill me.” She kept her face rigid, her eyes shielded. She knew she looked fearsome; it was an expression the press had loved to comment on when she’d been with the Bureau. It also worked well on criminals.

She couldn’t afford to break down now. Not when they were so close.

Lloyd swallowed, glanced at the warden, then back at her. Rowan didn’t move a muscle, but her heart beat so loudly in her ears she thought for sure everyone could hear. She couldn’t blow this. Wouldn’t blow it.

“I want in writing that I’m not gonna be charged for any of this.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his mouth.

Roger looked at the warden, who sighed and pulled out a legal pad. He hand-wrote a promise on two sheets of paper, signed both, and handed the pen to Lloyd. Lloyd signed them awkwardly with his hands bound and the warden took them. Rowan glanced down. He’d signed them “Robert MacIntosh.”

They weren’t legitimate without his legal name, but no one said anything. Stupid idiot, Rowan thought. No wonder Bobby had so easily manipulated him.

“I met Bobby in the joint in Louisiana. Right when he came in. Young punk kid. We hit it off right away. We looked kinda alike. He told me about you,” he said with a nod toward Rowan. “He hates you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Rowan said through clenched teeth, her mouth dry. She refused to let this guy get to her.

“Well, I got out after ten. He told me to find you. Sure, why not? I had nothing better to do. But you were fuckin’ hard to find. Then Bobby turned me on to Roger Collins here and told me you might’ve changed your name. But he had your social, and that’s what led me to your college transcripts.” He smiled, obviously pleased with himself.

“Well, I sorta followed you. Not all the time, didn’t have to. I knew your name, could check up on you from time to time. Kept Bobby informed.”

“You. Stalked. Me.” It was all she could do not to reach over and squeeze the bastard’s neck.

“Hell no, I didn’t care about you. And it wasn’t like I was always around. I had to keep a low profile, ya know. Work, pay taxes. I landed back in the can on some stupid trumped-up charge, in upstate New York. Was in there for nearly two years. Time off for good behavior.” He chuckled. “Realized something important, though.”

“What?” Roger asked, impatient.

He shrugged and gave a half-smile. “I really like being in the can. Don’t have to work if I don’t wanna. Three squares. Place to live, live for free. I never killed no one, so don’t have death row over my head. I mean, freedom is overrated. I tried to explain it all to Bobby, but he don’t listen.

“I lost track of you for a time and Bobby was antsy; when he heard you were some hotshot writer making big bucks, he sorta flipped. He came up with this all, but it took time. Two years to plan it and have it all come together.”

“How did you trade places?” Roger asked.

“That was easier than I thought. I didn’t think Bobby’d be able to pull it off, but he was so sure it’d work and I thought, what the fuck? If I was caught, I’d get what I wanted, another stint in the joint. If it worked, I’d get to come here to Beaumont. Nice place. Helluva lot better than Louisiana.”

“How?” Roger repeated, his anger evident.

“Bobby staged an accident, gang fight I think. He was taken to the hospital, all cut up. There was a guard outside his room, but not inside. We switched places. I just dressed up like a fuckin’ janitor and walked right in. ’Course Bobby had to cut me and I didn’t like that too much, but it worked and I came here and he walked outta the hospital. It was damn perfect.”

“What about your fingerprints?” Warden Cullen asked.

“Before Bobby left Louisiana, he hacked into the computer system and swapped our IDs. You know, fingerprints and whatnot. It’s all there, in the computer. And Bobby is really smart. He played the inside good. Got access to the library and offices. He had some guy in the pen for computer fraud help him.”

“Who?” the warden asked.

Lloyd shrugged. “Didn’t ask.”

Rowan couldn’t believe what Lloyd was telling them. Bobby had been walking free for fourteen months. He’d probably kept a low profile for a while to make sure the prison system hadn’t caught on, and when he didn’t see anything in the news, he started following her. Read her books. Planned how to torment her. How to kill her characters and make her suffer.

“You bastard.” She spread her hands on the table in front of her, her knuckles white.

“Hey! I didn’t kill anybody. I don’t kill people. I’m a thief.” He said it with pride, and Rowan just shook her head and pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Bobby was alive. He was walking the streets and killing people.

“Do you know where MacIntosh is now?” Roger asked, his voice low.

Lloyd shrugged. “He didn’t keep in touch, if you know what I mean. Why would he? He had what he wanted, I had what I wanted.”

“Take him back to his cell,” Warden Cullen said with obvious disgust.

The guards hoisted Lloyd up and walked him out. Over his shoulder, he glanced at Rowan. “Bobby told me you were a weak bitch. I dunno. I think he underestimated you.” He paused. “But I know you shouldn’t underestimate Bobby.”