Lucien breathed out.

‘By the look on your face, Robert, I’m sure you’ve recognized the tattoo on one of the frames on my wall.’

Hunter realized now that that had been the real reason why Lucien had mentioned Susan and her tattoo earlier. Not because he was trying to steer the conversation away from a fragile topic until his nerves settled, but because he wanted to make absolutely sure Hunter would remember it before sending him to the house.

Hunter wasn’t exactly sure of what to say, so he remained silent.

‘That piece is by far my favorite,’ Lucien continued. ‘Do you know why, Robert?’

No reply from Hunter.

Lucien gave him a pleased smile, as if the memories filled his heart with joy.

‘Susan was my first.’

‘You sick sonofabitch,’ Taylor said again, stepping forward as if she was about to launch onto Lucien, but sense seemed to take over right at the last second and she paused by the metal table.

Lucien’s icy gaze slowly moved to her. ‘Please stop repeating yourself, Agent Taylor. You’ve already called me a sick sonofabitch.’ His voice was flat. No emotion. No warmth.

‘Maybe I am one, but swearing doesn’t really suit you.’ He ran his tongue over his lips to wet them. ‘Name-calling is for the weak. For people who lack the intellect to argue intelligently. Do you think you lack the intellect, Agent Taylor? Because if you do, you have no business being an FBI agent.’

Taylor took a deep breath to steady herself. Though her eyes still burned with anger, she knew Lucien was just trying to push her.

‘I understand that right now you’re still a little in shock from your discovery back in the house,’ Lucien continued, ‘so your emotions are running a little high.’ He shrugged, unconcerned. ‘Understandable. But I bet that little outburst of yours isn’t really what’s expected from a senior FBI agent, is it? I bet it surprised even you, because I bet you promised yourself that you wouldn’t lose it. You promised yourself that you would remain calm and professional, didn’t you, Agent Taylor?’ Lucien gave her no time to reply. ‘But being able to control one’s emotions is a very tricky thing. Even with the best of intentions, your emotions can still easily boil up inside you. It takes a lot of training to be able to properly control them.’ Another shrug. ‘But I’m sure you’ll get there someday.’

Taylor strained to hold her tongue. It was obvious to her that Lucien was counting on another emotional reaction, but she didn’t comply.

‘How many were there, Lucien?’ Hunter asked in a steady voice, finally breaking his silence. ‘You said Susan was your first. How many victims were there?’

Lucien sat back and smiled a smile that looked rehearsed.

‘That’s a very good question, Robert.’ He looked deep in thought for a long instant. ‘I’m not really sure. I lost count after a while.’

Taylor felt her skin starting to goose-bump again.

‘But I have it all written down,’ Lucien said, as he began nodding. ‘Yes. There really is a diary, Robert. Actually, there is more than one, where I documented everything – places I’ve been, people I’ve taken, methods I’ve used . . .’

‘And where are they?’ Taylor asked.

Lucien chuckled and moved his hands, making the chain rattle against the metal table. ‘Patience, Agent Taylor, patience. Haven’t you ever heard the saying: “Good things will come to those who wait”?’

Though Lucien’s words were intended for Taylor, all of his attention was on Hunter.

‘I know that right now you have a thousand questions tumbling over each other inside that brain of yours, Robert. I know that all you want is to understand the why’s and how’s . . . and obviously, since you’re a cop, to identify all the victims.’ Lucien rotated his neck from side to side, as if trying to release some tension. ‘That could take a while. But believe me, Robert, I really do want you to understand the why’s and how’s. That’s the real reason why I called you here.’

Lucien looked past Hunter at the two-way mirror behind him. He wasn’t speaking to Hunter or Taylor anymore. He knew that after what they had uncovered in North Carolina, a more senior FBI figure would be on the other side of that glass. Someone with the authority to call all the shots.

‘I know that you also want to know the why’s and how’s,’ he said in a chilling tone, staring at his own reflection. ‘After all, this is the famous FBI Behavioral Science Unit. You live to study the minds of people like me. And believe me, you have never encountered anyone quite like me.’

Lucien could practically feel the tension growing behind the glass.

‘More than that,’ he continued. ‘You need to identify the victims. It’s your duty. But I’m telling you now, you’ll never be able to do that without my cooperation.’

Hunter saw Taylor uneasily shift her weight from foot to foot.

‘The good news is that I’m willing to do that,’ Lucien said. ‘But I’ll do it on my terms, so listen up.’ His voice seemed to have gone even more serious. ‘I will only speak to Robert, no one else. I know he isn’t with the FBI, but I also know that that can easily be remedied.’ He paused and looked around the room. ‘The interviews will not be conducted in this room anymore. I don’t feel comfortable here, and . . .’ He lifted his hands and moved them about, allowing the chain between his wrists to rattle against the metal table once again. ‘I really don’t like being shackled. It puts me in a very bad state of mind, and that’s not good, for me, or for you. I also like to move around when I talk. It helps me think. So from now on, Robert can come down to my cell. We can talk there.’ He stole a quick peek at Taylor. ‘Agent Taylor can sit in on the interviews if she wants. I like her. But she’ll have to learn how to control that temper of hers.’

‘You don’t get to negotiate,’ Taylor said, keeping her voice as calm as she could muster.

‘Oh, I think I do, Agent Taylor. Because I take it that by now you’ll have a team of agents going over every inch of my house in Murphy. And if they’re competent in the least, they should find out that what you and Robert saw in that house earlier . . .’ Lucien paused and he and Hunter locked eyes once again. ‘Well . . . that’s only the beginning.’

Twenty-Six

Lucien was right in his assumption – a specialized FBI team had already been deployed to scrutinize every inch of his house back in Murphy.

Special Agent Stefano Lopez was the agent in charge of the very experienced, eight-strong search team. That particular crew had been put together eight years ago by Director Adrian Kennedy himself, who had little trust in forensic specialists. A few years back, most forensic work around the country had started to be outsourced to private companies. Their overpaid forensic agents, if one could call them that, no doubt fueled by the increasing number of forensic-investigation TV shows that had hit the airwaves in the past decade, truly believed they were stars, and acted accordingly.

Kennedy’s team had been highly trained in the collection and analysis of forensic evidence, and all eight of them had a degree either in chemistry, or biology, or both. Three of the agents, including Lopez, the team leader, had also been premed students before joining the FBI. They were all qualified, and had brought with them enough lab equipment and gadgets to perform a variety of ‘on the spot’ basic tests.

To expedite the search, Agent Lopez had compartmentalized the house and split the crew into four teams of two: Team A – Agents Suarez and Farley – was in charge of going through everything in the living room and kitchen; Team B – Agents Reyna and Goldstein – was searching both bedrooms down the corridor, and the small bathroom; Team C – Agents Lopez and Fuller – was downstairs in the basement; Team D – Agents Villegas and Carver – was outside searching the property grounds.