Dead By Morning

Chapter 6

Derek studied Browning closely, mentally comparing the information he had on the man with the man himself standing there before him. Browning was forty-nine and although he looked his age, he had the kind of features that aged well. In his youth, he would have been referred to as a pretty boy. No doubt, he had used his good looks and his charm to lure his victims, especially the female ones, to their deaths. Behind that handsome façade lay the mind of a cunning and diabolical killer.

One of the guards who had escorted their prisoner into the room indicated for Browning to take a seat. Without a moment’s hesitation, he sat. His gaze never left Maleah.

Derek’s gut tightened as his instincts flashed a warning—danger!

“I don’t get many visitors,” Browning said in a heavy Southern accent, his voice as smooth as glass. “Certainly none as pretty as you, Ms. Perdue.”

Although Derek sensed Maleah tense, the action wasn’t visible. He had to give her credit for not even flinching.

“And I’m unaccustomed to visiting murderers in prison,” Maleah replied. “Especially ones as reprehensible as you are, Mr. Browning.”

His chuckled softly. “Touché, my dear.”

Maleah took the chair facing Browning, almost close enough to touch him, but not quite. She looked him square in the eye. They sat there staring at each other.

Derek barely controlled the urge to move in behind Maleah and stand at her back. His protective male instincts urged him to issue the man a warning. If you mess with this woman, you’ll have to deal with me.

“Do you know why I’m here?” Maleah asked.

Browning’s smile widened, showcasing a set of amazingly white, straight teeth. Apparently the state of Georgia provided great dental care for their inmates.

“I assume that you . . . or rather whatever agency you work for wants something they think only I can give them.”

Derek was sure that Maleah wouldn’t buy the man’s I-don’t-know-anything act.

“You know who I work for,” Maleah said. “You were informed that Mr. Lawrence—” she inclined her head slightly backward toward Derek “—and I work for the Powell Private Security and Investigation Agency before you agreed to meet with us.”

“Knowing who you work for and why you’re here is not the same thing.”

Maleah fixed her gaze on Browning. “I’ll ask you again, do you know why I’m here?”

“We are allowed newspapers and magazines and television in here. And I occasionally have a visitor. People talk. I listen.”

“What have you been listening to?”

“This and that. Whatever interests me.”

“What interests you, Mr. Browning?”

That’s it, Maleah, Derek thought. Stay calm, keep things easy, remain completely in control. Don’t let his evasiveness get to you.

“Why don’t you call me Jerome?” Browning’s blueeyed gaze traveled over Maleah, pausing on her breasts, which were modestly concealed by her lightweight blazer. “I’m more inclined to share confidences with people I’m on a first name basis with.”

“All right, Jerome, what have you heard recently that interests you?”

He leaned back in the chair, spread his legs apart as far as the shackles allowed, and dropped his handcuffed hands between his thighs. “Well, Maleah . . . I can call you Maleah, can’t I?”

She nodded.

Derek knew that Maleah hated the way Browning was ogling her, but she acted as if she didn’t care, as if she wasn’t even aware of what he was doing.

Smiling, he lifted his gaze back to her face.

“It’s a pretty name for a pretty woman,” Browning said. “Family name? Were you named after your grandmother?”

He’s trying your patience. Derek wished he could tell her, but suspected she knew what Browning was doing. The man wanted to get a reaction out of her, wanted her to become impatient and lose her temper.

“We’ve just met, Jerome,” Maleah told him. “We aren’t at a stage in our relationship where we exchange personal information. Right now, today, our conversation is about business.”

His smile disappeared as he cocked one brow and lowered his lids until his eyes narrowed to mere slits. “Whose business, mine or yours?”

“That’s what I want you to tell me. I’d like to know if your business and Powell Agency business are related.”

Forced and all the more deceptive, his smile returned. “What business could I possibly conduct in here? I’m considered a maximum security inmate. My privileges are limited. No way to get my hands on a scalpel. And as I’m sure you know, without the proper tools, I can’t work.”

“But you could teach, couldn’t you, Jerome?”

Bull’s-eye! Derek wanted to pat her on the back or high-five her. She was not only holding her own with Browning, but she was scoring points.

Browning couldn’t manage to maintain his phony smile. The pulse in his neck throbbed. He clenched his perfect white teeth.

Silence lingered for a couple of minutes.

Then Browning recovered quickly and grinned. “Hmm . . . yes, I see your point. Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.” He sighed dramatically. “It’s a sad state of affairs, don’t you think, my dear Maleah, when a master must live vicariously through the accomplishments of an apprentice.”

“And is that what you’re doing?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re enjoying our visit,” she replied. “I think you like playing games. I think you will eventually tell me what I want to know. But not today.”

“Smart and intuitive as well as beautiful.” He straightened in the chair, deliberately rattling his manacles and gaining a guard’s attention. Before the guard reached him, he settled quietly, his shoulders squared and his back straight.

“I don’t believe there is any point in my prolonging this visit.” Maleah rose to her feet and looked down at Browning. “My time is valuable, unlike yours. If you decide you want to be more informative, send word to the warden and Mr. Lawrence and I will come back for a second visit. Otherwise . . .”

“I’d be inclined to be more cooperative if you came alone.” He glanced at Derek.

Son of a bitch! He sees me as a threat. He thinks that without my presence, Maleah will be more vulnerable.

“You cooperate with me and I’ll cooperate with you,” she told Browning.

“Give and take. I like that. You give me something I want and I’ll give you something you want.”

“Agreed.”

“Come back tomorrow,” he told her. “Alone.”

Once Maleah drove away from the penitentiary, she glanced at Derek, who hadn’t said a word since they had left the warden’s office where she had arranged a second meeting with Jerome Browning. At ten o’clock tomorrow. Wednesday morning.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she asked Derek. “I know you’re dying to critique the initial interview. Tell me what I did wrong, how I screwed up, what I should have done differently.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t think of anything you should have handled differently. You were calm, cool, and in control every minute of the interview. You even managed to surprise Browning a couple of times.”

“I can’t believe it. Are you actually complimenting me?”

“I’m stating facts. You did a good job. Browning now knows that he’s dealing with a worthy opponent. And never doubt that’s how he sees you. For him, the game has begun. You may be ahead by a couple of points, but he learned a great deal about you today, far more than you learned about him.”

Maleah gripped the steering wheel, breathed deeply and told herself not to overreact to Derek’s comments. “Are you saying that you think I revealed too much about—?”

“What I said was in no way a criticism. We had a file folder filled with info about Browning. We already knew a great deal about him. He knew next to nothing about us . . . about you.”

“He’ll be looking for my Achilles’ heel, won’t he?”

“Oh yeah, without a doubt. And if he discovers it, he’ll use it like a sledgehammer to beat you into the ground. But only if you let him.”

“Do you think he knows that Noah Laborde was my boyfriend?”

“Our copycat killer knows,” Derek said. “It’s possible that, if he and Browning have communicated, as we suspect they have, Browning is well aware of the fact that you were practically engaged to Laborde.”

An overwhelming sense of doom threatened Maleah. She couldn’t allow the foreboding thoughts and feelings to deter her from what she had to do.

They continued along Reidsville Road until they reached GA-30W, the highway that would take them back to Vidalia.

“How about an early lunch?” Derek asked.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I am and you should be. You didn’t eat much breakfast.”

“I ate enough.”

“Think of yourself as a warrior preparing to go into battle tomorrow. You need to be in tiptop shape mentally and physically. You’re going to eat a decent lunch and dinner. And in the morning, you’re filling up on protein—bacon and eggs.”

Maleah groaned silently, but didn’t reply. She knew that Derek meant well, that he wasn’t trying to take control, that he really was thinking about helping her become battle ready for tomorrow morning’s confrontation with Browning.

When she didn’t say anything for several minutes, he asked, “Giving me the silent treatment?”

“Huh?”

“You’re pissed that I dared to suggest—”

“You don’t suggest, Derek, you command.”

“Yeah, I suppose I do. Sorry about that. It’s just that taking care of you is part of my job.”

She practically stopped the SUV in the middle of the highway, slowing down so much that vehicles doing forty-five miles an hour flew past her.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have put it in those precise words. Let me rephrase—”

“Don’t bother.”

Suddenly realizing that doing twenty-miles an hour on a major highway could be hazardous, Maleah returned the Chevy to the allowed speed limit.

“I do not need you or anyone to take care of me.” She kept her gaze focused straight ahead. If she looked at Derek, she might be overcome by the urge to slap him. “I’m an adult, not a child. I don’t need or want anyone to fight my battles and take the hits meant for me. And I certainly don’t need anyone overseeing my meals to make sure I eat properly.”

“I realize that. What I should have said is that we’re partners and partners depend on each other, right? I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine. Nobody’s the boss. We’re two equals doing a job and looking out for each other.”

“Griff told you to take care of me, didn’t he?”

Derek shrugged. “You know Griff.”

“Yes, I do. He thinks I can’t take care of myself.”

“That’s not it. He’s concerned. After all, you’re Nic’s best friend and—”

“I’m going back to the prison alone tomorrow morning to see Browning.” Don’t you dare tell me that I can’t go without you!

“All right.”

“That was too easy. You agreed too quickly.”

“You can see Browning without me. I’ll wait in the warden’s office.”

“What’s the catch?”

“The only catch is that we make a bargain.”

“Uh-oh, I don’t like the sound of that.”

“You can see Browning alone, but you’ll allow me to coach you before every visit.”

“You mean you want to tell me what to do and what to say and—”

“I want to coach you, advise you, work with you.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“It’s not negotiable,” he told her. “We strike a bargain or you don’t see Browning alone.”

Michelle Allen watched her seven-year-old niece Jaelyn as she swung across the monkey bars on her backyard swing set. Her brother’s only child reminded her of herself in so many ways, and not just physically, although the resemblance was striking. But then she and Keith looked enough alike to be twins. She had always been a bit of a tomboy and enjoyed playing sports. She had excelled at basketball in high school and won a basketball scholarship to college. She’d been good, but not quite good enough for the WNBA.

“Watch me, Aunt Chelle,” Jaelyn called to her. “I’m going to do a somersault in mid-air.”

Michelle jumped to her feet. “Be careful. Don’t fall.” She raced toward the swing set positioned over an enormous bed of mulch, put there to protect Jaelyn if she fell. Keith and Shannon were conscientious parents and tried not to be overprotective. But it wasn’t easy for them, walking that fine line, especially not with an only child, a child they knew would be their only biological offspring. And since at thirty-nine, Michelle doubted she would ever have children of her own, she felt a strong maternal protectiveness toward her niece.

Since Keith and Shannon didn’t entrust their daughter to just anybody, they seldom had any alone time for just the two of them. When she was given a week off from work after her last assignment for the Powell Agency, Michelle offered to babysit her niece so that her brother and his wife could get away for a long weekend alone. They had left early Saturday morning and were due to return sometime tonight. A part of her was eager to return to work, to become involved with a new case, but another part of her hated to leave Paducah and the genuine pleasure she found in playing doting aunt to a child she loved as if she were her own.

Jaelyn performed a perfect mid-air somersault, caught hold of the overhead bars and lifted herself atop the swing set. Beaming with pride about her accomplishment, she tossed back her head and laughed. Michelle released the anxious breath she’d been holding and smiled adoringly up at her niece.

Michelle applauded. “Great job, sweetie. Now, come on down and let’s go clean up for supper. Your mom and dad are due home later, so we’ll want you fed and bathed and in bed before they get here. We don’t want them to think I’ve been spoiling you.”

“But you do spoil me, Aunt Chelle.”

“That should be our little secret.”

Jaelyn climbed down the side steps, taking her own sweet time. When her feet hit the ground, she raced straight to Michelle and threw her arms up and around her aunt’s waist.

“I love you to pieces,” Jaelyn said. “I wish you didn’t have to leave when Mommy and Daddy come home. I wish you could live with us all the time.”

Michelle leaned down, hugged Jaelyn and then lifted her off her feet for a forehead kiss. “I love you to pieces, too, angel pie.”

As Michelle eased her niece back on her feet and grasped her little hand, Jaelyn giggled. “That’s such a silly thing to call me—angel pie. Why do you call me that?”

“That’s what my daddy used to call me,” Michelle said. “You don’t remember Papa Allen. He went to heaven before you were born.”

“He was my daddy’s daddy, too, wasn’t he?”

“That’s right. Your Papa Allen called me angel pie and he called your father pudding head.”

“My daddy’s a pudding head. That’s so funny, but sometimes my daddy is funny. Mommy tells him he’s being silly.”

“Oh, he’s silly all right.”

Hand-in-hand, sharing aunt-and-niece conversation, they walked across the yard, onto the back porch and into the kitchen, both of them smiling happily. Tomorrow morning, she would return to Knoxville and return to work. But tonight, she would eat hot dogs and potato chips, oversee a seven-year-old’s bath, watch the Disney Channel until eight o’clock, and listen to Jaelyn read aloud another chapter of Could You? Would You? before they exchanged good night hugs and kisses.

Tonight was the night. In a few hours he would slip the scalpel into his pocket, leave his room, and follow through with his plan for the fifth Copycat Carver murder. The closer it came to the actual moment when he would jab the scalpel into the side of the victim’s neck and then slice across his throat, the more excited he would become. It had always been that way for him, even that first time, so many years ago. To say that he had been born to kill might be inaccurate. Surely no one was born to be a killer. But even as a child, he had derived a thrilling pleasure from capturing and killing animals. Birds and rabbits and squirrels. And then later on, neighborhood household pets. Cats and dogs.

He had been fourteen when he’d graduated from animals to human beings. He clearly remembered that day as if it were yesterday and not thirty years ago. They say you never forget your first. And that was certainly true for him. Renee Billaud had been a promiscuous sixteen-year-old with enticing tits the size of ripe cantaloupes. He had followed her into the woods where she had met a local man, a married man whose wife had been a friend of his grandmother’s. He had watched them fucking, his penis growing steadily harder with each passing minute. As soon as the man had finished with her, he had zipped up his pants and walked off, leaving Renee lying on a bed of leaves beneath an enormous old oak tree. While her blouse was still unbuttoned, revealing her luscious breasts, and her skirt was still hiked up around her waist, he had come out from behind the bushes and stared her.

“What were you doing, you nasty boy, spying on me?”

He hadn’t answered her. Instead, he had pounced on her. At first she had fought him like a wildcat, but once he’d managed to unzip his pants and free his penis, she had settled down and begun laughing when she realized he didn’t know what he was doing.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?”

She had reached down, circled his penis with her hot little hand and guided him into her. He had pumped up and down only a couple of times before ejaculating. Renee had seemed to think his premature climax was amusing and proceeded to joke about what a poor lover he had been.

He would never forget the look in her eyes when he had tightened his hands around her neck and squeezed. And squeezed. Until she was gasping for air and struggling to loosen the death grip he had on her throat.

He had never known such pure pleasure as he did the moment she stopped breathing. A sexual orgasm paled in comparison.

Lost in a haze of sweet memories, he barely heard the tapping on his bedroom door. Already aroused and ready for action, he walked across the room, opened the door and smiled at the woman standing in the hallway. He had met her in the hotel bar last night and had struck up a casual conversation. She’d been one of the women he had noticed Sunday night. A woman on the prowl.

“Are you going to invite me in or do you want to do me out here and shock the other guests?”

He grabbed her arm, pulled her into his room, and kicked the door closed behind them.