Criminal Behaviour. Amanda Stevens

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СКАЧАТЬ up is an understatement,” Addie muttered.

      Matt continued, undaunted, “An FBI profiler with an almost godlike reputation helps capture the psycho and then ends up stalking and murdering a victim with the same MO in order to continue Finch’s mission. Talk about crazy.”

      “Merrick obviously had a psychotic breakdown,” Addie said. “Which is why he remains to this day in the state psychiatric hospital in Columbia. He’s where he belongs. End of story. Let’s get back to Delmar Gainey. We’re standing in his house of horrors, after all.”

      “Yeah, sure. We can get back to Gainey. But there’s a lesson to be learned from James Merrick. Especially for you.”

      She frowned. “What are you talking about?”

      “Your new assignment.” He let his head fall back against the door frame as he observed her. “It’s a game changer. I’d be the last one to ever stand in your way.”

      “I know that. I also know you deserve this assignment more than I do.”

      “That’s not true. You’re a good detective, and you’re smart. You need to stop selling yourself short because of a stupid rookie mistake.”

      Addie winced.

      “Just stay smart, okay? The people who’ll be training you are a different breed. Next-level intense. What we found here is nothing compared to what they deal with on a daily basis.”

      “What’s your point?”

      “Sooner or later, what they do takes a toll. It has to if you’re human.”

      “You don’t think I can handle it?”

      “Oh, I know you can handle it. Just be aware. Profiling is a powerful tool, but it’s not without a dark side. It can mess with your head if you’re not careful.”

      “You mean like James Merrick.”

      “He entered the mind of a monster and created an opening, allowing the monster to slither back into his.” Matt’s gaze deepened, and he seemed uncharacteristically sober. “You go into that training with an open mind, Addie. Learn everything you can from this Gwen Holloway. Be a sponge. Soak it all up. Then you come back to the Charleston PD and put that knowledge to good use. But always keep your guard up. Always protect yourself. The moment you let that monster crawl inside your head and make a nest is the moment you become the next James Merrick.”

      * * *

      SPECIAL AGENT ETHAN BARROW stood at rigid attention beside his rented SUV as he eyed the abandoned house through his Ray-Bans. His gaze traveled over the crumbling roofline and then dropped once more to the sagging porch. The place was as dark and creepy as one might imagine the lair of a ruthless predator would be. Even the sun shining down through thick curtains of Spanish moss seemed muted, casting the house in perpetual gloom.

      Ever since Ethan’s return to Charleston, the news had been dominated by the gruesome discovery inside that house, managing to overshadow the upcoming anniversary of Orson Lee Finch’s incarceration and James Merrick’s subsequent confinement to the state psychiatric hospital. Twenty-five years after the fact, Orson Lee Finch remained at Kirkland Correctional Institution, housed in a specialized unit for the state’s most violent inmates. Most people thought he deserved worse. James Merrick remained a patient on the infamous fourth floor, a ward for the criminally insane. Most people thought he deserved worse.

      Ethan wasn’t one of those people.

      He shifted his position so that he could glimpse around the corner of the house. He heard voices over the fence, but no one approached him. That was good. He needed a few minutes to plot his strategy. Or to work up his courage. No reason in the world Adaline Kinsella should agree to hear him out after what he’d once put her through, but she was the only person he could turn to right now. The only person he trusted with the potential bombshell that had fallen into his lap.

      He moved back to the other end of the SUV, killing more time. It had now been twenty-four hours since his arrival in Charleston, and he had yet to make contact with Addie. He hadn’t slept much. He’d eaten poorly, consumed too much coffee, and now he was starting to feel the strain. He’d forgotten just how hot and humid the city could be in the middle of summer. Virginia was bad enough, but coastal South Carolina was a whole new level of misery. He wasn’t dressed for the weather. He loosened his tie and tugged at the collar of his starched shirt, but he didn’t remove his jacket. The dark suit was his uniform now. Both his identity and his camouflage.

      His first order of business upon landing at Charleston International Airport the day before had been to rent a vehicle and drive to Columbia to interview Orson Lee Finch. Over the years, Ethan had studied dozens, perhaps hundreds, of photos and videos of Finch, but he’d never met him in person. Face-to-face, Finch’s appearance had taken him by surprise. The Twilight Killer was a small man, pale and wiry with bright blue eyes magnified behind the thick lenses of silver-framed glasses. His grooming was fastidious—crisp khaki uniform, combed hair, clean and clipped nails. He resembled a scholar or historian. He did not look like a serial killer. Ethan couldn’t help but wonder how Finch had managed to survive for as long as he had behind bars. Maybe he was small enough and his appearance so nondescript that he’d managed to go unnoticed. Or maybe his looks were deceiving.

      They’d sat on plastic chairs, eyeing each other warily through the partition until Finch had picked up the phone. A few minutes of awkward conversation had ensued while Ethan tried to get a feel for his subject. Finch had struck him as quiet and reflective, a man who’d long ago made peace with his deeds and circumstances. His placid demeanor never altered until Ethan had broached the topic of Finch’s mother. Then the blue eyes seemed to intensify behind the glasses and the corner of Finch’s mouth twitched, as if he were suppressing a painful memory.

      “Your mother never married, did she?” Ethan had spoken in a conversational tone, trying to draw the man out. “That must have been tough. Children born out of wedlock were stigmatized back in your day. You were probably teased in school, maybe even bullied.”

      Finch said nothing.

      “Your mother worked as a housekeeper, so I imagine money was tight. Barely enough for necessities, let alone extras. You wore hand-me-down clothing from the people whose houses she cleaned, and as much as you enjoyed having those nice things, you resented where they came from, didn’t you? You were hostile to the hand that fed you.”

      Finch watched him avidly through the partition.

      Ethan glanced down at his notes even though he had everything memorized. “Despite your disadvantages, you were a good student. Always the brightest in your class, but your financial situation limited your prospects. A full-ride scholarship must have been the answer to all your prayers. A dream come true. You studied horticulture at a state school, right? You wanted to be a landscape architect. Then your mother became ill during your junior year, and you were forced to drop out of college to take care of her. That’s when you got your first job as a gardener. You had to go back, hat in hand, to the people who had given you their throwaway clothing.”

      Finch had stared at him for the longest moment before answering. “Is this your way of establishing rapport, Special Agent Barrow? Or do you wish to impress me with the amount of homework you’ve done?”

      “How’s this for homework? You have a daughter out there somewhere. No one knows her name or where she’s been since your incarceration. Some believe her mother was your СКАЧАТЬ