Vile (23 page)

Jess was so tired. Now that she’d seen firsthand that Dan was okay, she felt as weak as a kitten. Not a good place to be when interviewing a suspect, but it had to be done. Her cell chimed and she fished in her bag for the confounded thing. The elevator car arrived with a ding of warning. Her stomach growled a warning of its own about dinner. She really had to eat soon. The doors slid open and Jess boarded. She leaned against the wall and checked the screen of her cell. Lori stepped inside and tapped the proper button for Brownfield’s floor.

Jess frowned and then the image on the screen stole her breath. Long flowing brown hair… dark eyes and a big smile. The photo of the young woman was followed by another text.
Isn’t she lovely, Jess?

“Oh my god.” He’d taken another victim…

See you soon
.

The elevator stopped but Jess couldn’t move.

Lori looked from the phone to Jess. “Is it him?”

Jess nodded and handed her cell to Lori. “Victim number three.” The game was progressing.

“Jesus Christ.” Lori’s face went pale. She passed the cell back to Jess. “We’re never going to be able to stop him, are we?”

Determination hardened inside Jess. “Oh yes we are.” She stormed out of the elevator. And she knew exactly where to start.

As she strode down the corridor, Jess mentally reviewed the rest of the report given to her earlier by the doctor who had examined Amanda Brownfield. Numerous, recent lacerations marred her torso and her thighs. Since the pelvic and thigh bruising suggested sexual assault, a rape kit had been taken. Brownfield had been semiconscious and unable to answer questions when she arrived in the ER. Taking the rape kit under the circumstances was SOP. One look at the photos of her injuries and Jess knew who was responsible. She recognized the pattern of torture the Player used on his victims.

Only Amanda Brownfield wasn’t dead.

Whatever she knew about Spears, Jess intended to learn before this day ended.

Two Jackson County deputies, Sheriff Foster, as well as a Birmingham officer were stationed outside Brownfield’s room.

As Jess approached, Foster shook his head. “She won’t talk to me beyond screaming profanities. She did ask for you between shouting matches. We’ve taken all precautions with wrist and ankle restraints as well as a waist shackle. She’s not getting out of that bed until we let her out.”

“Thank you, Sheriff.” Jess turned to Lori. “She may not talk with you in the room.”

Lori didn’t look convinced. “You sure you want to do this alone?”

“Absolutely.” Jess forwarded to Lori’s cell the photo Spears had sent. “See that Chief Black and Agent Gant get that ASAP.”

“Will do.”

Jess gave her a nod and then reached for the door. She dismissed the idea that she was still wearing jeans and sneakers, both dirty from exploring graves all day. At least the t-shirt with its BPD logo looked official.

Amanda Brownfield watched Jess enter the room. She didn’t speak, just watched. Jess placed her bag on the floor at the end of the bed before moving to the raised side rail. “Hello, Amanda. I’m—”

“I know who you are.” Her voice was strong. A little raspy, probably from years of smoking. “Deputy Chief Jess Harris,” she said mockingly.

“Of course.” Jess smiled. “You’ve been keeping up with me.”

“No law against that,” Brownfield argued.

“No law against that,” Jess agreed. “Would you like to know how your daughter’s doing?”

“Doesn’t matter. My momma ruined her, made her too needy and clingy.” Brownfield tilted her head and eyed Jess. “You can have her.”

Jess bit back the response that came immediately to mind. “Well then, why don’t you tell me about the human remains we found on your farm?”

Brownfield considered Jess for a bit before answering. “What makes you think I know anything about those?”

“Forty-one sets of remains have been uncovered so far,” Jess pressed on. “You must have some idea how that happened. After all, you’ve lived on that farm for most of your life.”

Brownfield shrugged her left shoulder and grimaced. Her right arm was immobilized in a sling, which made securing her right hand problematic. Foster had fastened it to the waist shackle. The left was secured to the rail on the opposite side of the bed. “Maybe my grandparents built on a cemetery. How am I supposed to know what they did before I was born?”

“Your family has owned the property for seventy years, but some of the remains we found are far more recent. For instance, Brock Clements, your boyfriend. We found his body, Amanda. I don’t think your grandparents had anything to do with his murder.”

Brownfield hummed a note of boredom. “Since you have it all figured out, what do you want me to say?”

This case was far from
all figured out
. It would likely be months before the numerous victims were officially identified, causes of death confirmed, and murderers and motives nailed down. “You could start with the truth,” Jess recommended. The sheriff had already questioned Brownfield. She was well aware of her rights, and so far she hadn’t asked for an attorney. If Jess were lucky, she wouldn’t change her mind now.

Brownfield grinned, an expression that confirmed Jess’s assessment of her—she felt no responsibility much less remorse for her actions. She was a pathological liar. Had frequent, short-term relationships and was manipulative and cunning, impulsive and callous. Her list of character flaws went on and on. Bottom line, Amanda Brownfield was a true psychopath.

“You sure you can handle the truth, Jess?” she taunted.

“Why don’t you try me?”

“All right.” Brownfield sighed, the sound one of satisfaction. She was enjoying this. “My granddaddy taught me how to spot the best targets. The ones who deserved to die the most. He showed me how good it felt to take a life. It’s like a drug. Once you’re addicted, you just can’t stop. But,” she qualified, “if you’re smart, you make sure the target can’t be traced back to you. I guess I screwed up on that one.”

A chill swept through Jess. A multi-generational family of killers was rare, but the Brownfields were fitting squarely into that category. “How did you and your grandfather choose your targets?”

Brownfield shrugged. “It’s not something you can put into words. It’s a feeling. You just know who has to die.”

Braced for the answer she didn’t want to hear, Jess asked the question haunting her. “Why did you keep the pictures?”

“My granddaddy liked keeping a record. We used to make up stories about them. It passed the time.” Brownfield smiled knowingly. “Did you find one you liked?”

Jess rummaged in her bag for her cell. She’d snapped a pic of the photo of her father. She showed it to Brownfield. “Tell me his story. The real one.”

Amanda barely glanced at the screen. “
He’s
waiting for you.” She smiled. “You’re all he talks about—you and this special game he has planned.”

“Are you referring to the man in the photo?” Jess wasn’t going to play games with this woman. She needed direct answers not more riddles.

“You know who I’m talking about.”

“I need a name, Amanda.” A flare of anger gave an edge to her demand.

“Eric.” Brownfield said his name as if she was a teenager and he was her current celebrity crush. “The
Player
. He told me everything.”

“Really?” Jess showed her the photo of Spears’s latest victim—the one she’d received only minutes ago. “Did he tell you about her? Is she part of his special game too?”

Brownfield executed another of those listless shrugs. “I’ve never seen her before in my life.”

“Then he didn’t share everything with you, Amanda. He used you.” Jess opted for a new tactic, putting her on the defensive. “And now he’s finished with you. He doesn’t need you anymore.”

That knowing smile returned. “Maybe, but there are plenty of others waiting for a turn to serve him.”

“Others?” Jess held her breath.

“People like me, who’ll do anything he asks.”

This following Spears had amassed was the part Jess couldn’t fully comprehend. What was it about him that motivated so many to do his bidding? There was always a motive. Always. What was she missing?

“How did he find you?” Jess pressed on. “Where did you first meet?”

“I’m tired now.” Brownfield looked away. “You should leave. Eric won’t like it if I tell you too much.”

Jess’s heart pounded so hard she could barely hear herself think. This woman was alive. She had done Spears’ bidding, come face to face with him, and survived. Whatever information she had, Jess wanted it.
Now
. “Why did he pick you?”

Brownfield turned back to Jess. “I thought you’d figured that out already.” A slow smile slid across her face. “It’s our connection.”

“What connection?” The photo of the man who was almost certainly her father flashed in Jess’s mind.

“The man in the photo you showed me,” Brownfield said, seemingly hearing Jess’s thought. “
Our
father. He died when I was six, but then you know that, don’t you? My momma and I went to the coroner’s office to see him. He was lying on that steel table with your momma on the one right next to him. My momma kissed him goodbye and then she made me do it. She loved him a lot, you know.”

Images of her father and mother laid out on cold slabs flashed in Jess’s mind. One endless moment passed before she could speak. “Your father’s name was Lawrence Howard. The Cadillac in the barn was registered to him.”

Brownfield shook her head. “That’s just the name he used when he was with us. His real name was Lee Harris. I’m your sister, Jess. No use fighting it.”

Jess restrained the fierce emotions clawing at her. “Is this another of the stories like the ones you and your grandfather made up?”

“Do a DNA test,” Brownfield dared. “I know who I am. That’s why Eric wanted inside me. He knows we have the same blood flowing through our veins. Having me was the next best thing to having you.”

Jess refused to believe her outrageous story. It wasn’t possible… and yet, she instinctively understood there was some aspect of truth in her words.

“When was the last time you were contacted by Eric Spears?” Just saying his name out loud made Jess want to vomit. Whatever this woman’s story, finding and stopping Spears was all that mattered.

“Today.”

Shock radiated through Jess. She already knew the answer to the question she was about to ask, but she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. “Where did you meet with him?”

“I was blindfolded and put into a trunk by his man. I have no clue how we got to Eric’s home, but it wasn’t that far from here.”

“What man?” Jess went on alert. “Do you know his name? Can you give me a description of him and the house?”

“The man wore a mask. I didn’t see anything except the inside of the house.”

“Start at the beginning and tell me everything Spears said to you and everything you saw inside his home.” Jess felt ice cold. She gripped the bed’s side rail to ensure she stayed vertical. He was here.
Close
.

“He gave me instructions and a key fob that worked on your honey’s SUV. He provided the gun he wanted me to use. After that, he told me to take off my dress.” Brownfield smiled. “He’s the best lover I ever had and that, sister, is all I got to say.”

“That’s all he said to you?” Jess struggled for a deep breath. This woman had been with Spears…
here
. She had to know more than she was telling.

Brownfield heaved a big sigh. “Okay, okay. There was just one other thing you might want to know.”

Jess held her breath.

“When he came,” she licked her lips as if she could still taste him, “he screamed your name.”

Jess wanted to shake her. To twist that damaged arm until she told anything else she knew. “That doesn’t say much for you, does it, Amanda?”

Rage colored the other woman’s cheeks. “Here’s a newsflash,
Chief Harris
. Eric knows your secret.”

Jess drew back. He couldn’t possibly know…

Brownfield laughed long and loud. “I thought that might shake things up. He’s coming for you, Jess. You’re wasting your time fighting the inevitable.”

Jess’s cell made that little chime that notified her when she received a text message. Feeling disjointed, she swiped the screen to open it.

Congratulations, Jess. It’s a shame Dan won’t live to see his child
.

Jess’s heart dropped.
Spears knew
.

Don’t miss the next thrilling installment of the Faces of Evil series! HEINOUS is coming!

About the Author

DEBRA WEBB, born in Alabama, wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain—and a five-year stint with NASA—that she realized her true calling. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Since then she has penned more than 100 novels including her internationally bestselling Colby Agency series. Her debut romantic thriller series, the Faces of Evil, propelled Debra to the top of the bestselling charts for an unparalleled twenty-four weeks and garnered critical acclaim from reviewers and readers alike. Don’t miss a single installment of this fascinating and chilling twelve-book series!

Visit Debra at
www.thefacesofevil.com
or at
www.debrawebb.com
. You can write to Debra at PO Box 12485, Huntsville, AL, 35815.