‘But . . .’ Susan pointed at her drink.

‘Drink it down, girl . . . rock and roll style,’ Lucien replied, urging her with a series of hand movements. ‘C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.’

Susan gulped her drink down, took Lucien’s hand and allowed him to drag her to the dance floor.

A couple of hours and several drinks later they were both ready to leave. Susan looked to be really drunk, while Lucien looked in much better shape.

‘I think we should leave your car here and take a cab,’ Susan said. Her words were starting to skid into each other. ‘You can pick it up tomorrow sometime.’

‘Nah,’ Lucien came back. ‘I’m still good. I can drive.’

‘No, you can’t. You drank just as much as me, and I . . . am . . . wasted.’

‘Yeah, but I was drinking cocktails, not double shots of JD and Coke. You know the cocktails here are mainly juice with a splash of booze. I could drink them all night and still be OK to drive home.’

Susan paused and regarded Lucien for a long instant. He did look quite steady on his feet, and he was right, the cocktails at the Rocker Bar weren’t very strong.

‘Are you sure you’re OK to drive?’

‘Positive.’

Susan shrugged. ‘OK then, but you’re driving slowly, you hear? I’m going to keep my eye on you.’ She made a V with her index and middle fingers, pointed at her eyes, and then slowly moved her hand in the direction of Lucien’s.

‘Ten-four, ma’am,’ Lucien said, giving her a military salute.

Lucien had parked down the road, just around the corner. At that time in the morning, the street looked deserted.

‘Buckle up,’ he said, taking the driver’s seat. ‘It’s the law.’ He smiled.

‘Says the man who had a truckload of cocktails before taking the wheel,’ Susan joked, struggling with the seatbelt.

Lucien waited, giving her the look.

‘I’m trying, all right?’ she said, a little flustered. ‘I can’t find the goddamn hole.’

‘Here, let me help you.’ Lucien leaned over, grabbed her seatbelt buckle, and quickly slid it into its lock. Then, with no warning, he moved a little closer and kissed her full on the lips.

Susan pulled back, surprised. ‘Lucien, what are you doing?’ It looked like she had gone sober all of a sudden.

‘What do you think I was doing?’

A very awkward few seconds flew by.

‘Lucien . . . I’m . . . very sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression tonight, or any other night. You’re a fantastic person, a really good friend, and I get along with you great, but . . .’

‘But you don’t have those kind of feelings for me.’ Lucien finished Susan’s sentence for her. ‘Is that what you were about to say?’

Susan just stared at him.

‘What if instead of me being the one sitting here, it were Robert?’

Susan was taken aback by the question.

‘I bet you wouldn’t pull back like you did. I bet you’d be all over him like a two-dollar whore. Your clothes would probably be gone, and you’d be sitting on his lap, undoing his belt with the utmost urgency.’

‘Lucien, what the hell is going on? It’s like I don’t even know you right now.’

Lucien’s eyes went stone cold, as if all the life and emotion had been sucked out of them.

‘And what makes you think you knew me at all?’

The arctic tone of Lucien’s words made Susan shiver. She was still struggling to understand what was happening when Lucien exploded into action, violently launching his body forward, and using his left hand to pin Susan’s head against the passenger window.

Lucien hadn’t fastened his seatbelt, which gave him a lot more freedom of movement.

Susan tried to scream, but Lucien rapidly slid his hand over her mouth, muffling whatever sounds came out of it. With his right hand, he opened the small compartment that sat between the two front seats and reached inside.

Susan grabbed at Lucien’s left hand and tried to push it away . . . tried to free her mouth . . . her head, but even if she’d been sober, he’d still be way too strong for her.

‘It’s OK, Susan,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘It’ll all be over soon.’

With incredible speed, Lucien’s right hand shot toward Susan’s face. She felt something prick the side of her neck, and in that instant their eyes met.

Hers full of fear.

His full of evil.

Forty-One

Lucien recounted the events that took place that night with the same enthusiasm as someone recollecting what he’d had for breakfast. All the while his eyes were locked on Hunter.

Hunter tried his best to remain impassive, but hearing Lucien’s account of how he had subdued Susan had started to slowly tighten a knot in his throat. He shifted his weight in his chair, but never once broke eye contact with Lucien.

Lucien paused, had another sip of his water, and said nothing else.

Everyone waited.

Silence.

‘So you drugged her,’ Taylor said.

Lucien gave her an unenthusiastic smile. ‘I injected her with Propofol.’

Taylor glanced at Hunter.

‘It’s a fast-acting general anesthetic,’ Lucien clarified. ‘It’s incredible what you can get your hands on when you manage to get access to the medical school building at Stanford.’

‘So what happened next?’ Taylor asked. ‘Where did you take her? What did you do?’

‘No, no, no,’ Lucien said with a slight shake of the head. ‘It’s my turn to ask a question. That was the agreement, was it not? So far, this “question game” has been very one-sided.’

‘Fair enough,’ Taylor agreed. ‘Tell us what happened next and then ask your question.’

‘No deal. It’s my turn now. Time to finally feed my curiosity.’ Lucien massaged the back of his neck for a moment before looking back at Hunter. ‘Tell me about when you were a kid, Robert. Tell me about your mother.’

Hunter’s jaw tightened.

Taylor looked a little confused.

‘Quid pro quo,’ Lucien said. ‘You as cops, or profilers, or federal agents, or whatever, are always looking to try to understand what makes people like me tick, isn’t that right? You’re always trying to figure out how the mind of a ruthless killer works. How can a human being have such disregard for another human life? How can someone become a monster like me?’ Lucien delivered every word in a steady, mono-sounding rhythm. ‘Well, on the other hand, a monster like me would also like to know what makes people like you tick. The heroes of society . . . the best of the best . . . the ones who’d risk their lives for people they don’t even know.’ He paused for effect. ‘You want to understand me. I want to understand you. It’s as simple as that. And as Freud would tell you, Agent Taylor, if you want to delve deep into someone’s psyche, if you want to understand the person they became, the best place to start is with their childhood and their relationship with their mother and father. Isn’t that right, Robert?’

Hunter said nothing.

Lucien slowly cracked every knuckle on both of his hands. The creepy, bone-creaking sound reverberated against the walls in his cell.

‘So, Robert, please indulge me in a twenty-five-year-old curiosity of mine, will you?’

‘I don’t think so, Lucien,’ Hunter said, his voice as serene as a priest’s in a confessional.

‘Oh, but I do, Robert,’ Lucien replied in the same peaceful tone. ‘I really do. Because if you want to know any more about what happened to Susan, including where you could find her remains, you will indulge me.’

The knot in Hunter’s throat got a little tighter.

‘Tell me what happened, Robert? How did your mother die?’

Silence.

‘And please don’t lie to me, Robert, because I can assure you that I’ll know if you do.’

Forty-Two