Taylor wasn’t prepared to go through any of what had happened that night all those years ago with Lucien, but she knew that if she answered truthfully he would pick at that wound until it bled again. Trying to concentrate on her breathing, her eyes, and everything else that could give her away, she gave him her answer.
‘No.’
Lucien was observing Taylor, but this time her poker face worked. If anything had betrayed her answer, he didn’t seem to notice it.
‘Robert?’ Lucien moved the question over. His head skewed sideways. ‘Don’t lie to me now.’
Once again, Hunter had the feeling that somehow Lucien already knew the answer.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately, I’ve killed people in the line of duty.’
‘How many?’
Hunter didn’t have to think about it. ‘I’ve shot and killed six people.’
Lucien savored those words for an instant. ‘And you weren’t overcome by a feeling of tremendous power? You didn’t get the “God-like feeling”? Not even once?’
‘No, I didn’t.’ Hunter didn’t hesitate. ‘If I could have avoided it, I would’ve.’
For several seconds, they exchanged a fierce stare, as if their eyes were fighting their own private tug-of-war.
‘Susan’s remains, Lucien,’ Hunter finally said. ‘Where are they?’
‘Very well,’ Lucien agreed, breaking eye contact. He breathed in deeply. ‘Like I said before, Robert, the place I used in La Honda is still there. Once the magic of the moment had worn off that night, once I stopped shaking from the adrenaline rush, I knew I had to dispose of the body in a way that no one would find it. But I had already given that a lot of thought. That was just another reason why I chose that place — it was surrounded by wild woods.’ A careless shrug. ‘I didn’t know it would happen that night though,’ he added. ‘It wasn’t my intention when I left the dorm to go meet Susan. As I said, it just turned out that way.’
He started pacing his cell again, his hands behind his back.
‘So I dug for the rest of the night, all the way until morning. Ended up with a four, maybe five-foot-deep grave. I had already bought bags and bags of coffee powder and a few bottles of mountain lion urine.’
Both Hunter and Taylor knew that coffee powder is a very strong animal scent distractor. It confuses them, and usually makes them lose a scent trail, if they were on to one. Mountain lion urine can be easily bought in several shops around America, and it’s used for its predator scent quality. Its smell scares away a multitude of other animals, like foxes, wolves and coyotes. It’s a simple law of nature — the stronger and deadlier the predator, the more animals its scent will scare off.
‘I buried her body in the woods behind the house,’ Lucien said, ‘under layers of dirt, coffee powder and mountain lion urine. Covered it all with some leaves and sticks. And I can tell you, it’s never been disturbed by man or animal.’
‘So where is this house?’ Hunter asked.
Lucien spent the next two minutes giving Hunter and Taylor specific instructions of how to get to it from Sears Ranch Road.
Lucien paused directly in front of Hunter. ‘Will you tell them everything? Will you tell them the truth?’
Hunter knew Lucien was talking about Susan’s parents again.
‘Yes.’
‘Um. . I wonder how they’ll feel. What their reaction will be?’
‘What do you care?’ Taylor spat the words. ‘At least they’ll have closure at last. They’ll be able to bury their daughter’s remains with dignity. And they’ll also have the certainty that the monster who took her away from them will be locked up for the rest of his natural life.’
Lucien was still pacing his cell, but instead of moving from left to right, he’d started walking back and forth between the back wall and the Plexiglas at the front.
‘Oh, no, I wasn’t talking about that, Agent Taylor.’ Lucien’s lips broke into something that looked like half a smirk, half an amused smile. ‘I meant. . I wonder how they’ll feel when they find out that they ate their own daughter.’
Fifty-Two
Adrian Kennedy had decided to cancel all of his appointments back in Washington, DC and stay at the FBI Academy in Quantico, at least for another day or so. In all his years with the Bureau, no single investigation or suspect had intrigued him as much as Lucien Folter had.
He’d ordered a check on Susan Richards’ parents late last night. That was how Hunter knew they were still alive. Her father was now seventy-one and her mother sixty-nine, both retired. Kennedy had also told Hunter that they were still living in the same old house in Boulder City, Nevada, and they were still calling the police departments in Palo Alto and Santa Clara County at least once a month asking for any news.
Kennedy and Doctor Lambert had been following all the interviews through the monitors in the holding cells’ control room. Every once in a while one of them would make a brief comment on something that was said, but mostly they watched in silence. As soon as Kennedy heard Lucien’s instruction of how to get to Susan Richards’ grave behind the house in La Honda, he reached for the phone on the desk in front of him.
‘Get me the Special Agent in charge of our field office in San Francisco. . ASAP!’
Within seconds Kennedy was speaking to Special Agent Bradley Simmons, a softly spoken man who had been with the FBI for twenty years, nine of those with the San Francisco office. He still had a strong southern Texas accent.
Kennedy had paid intense attention to Lucien’s instructions. He didn’t even need to listen back to the recording or check his notes. He could easily recount word for word.
‘Get in touch with the La Honda Police Department and County Sheriff’s office only if you need to, you understand?’ Kennedy said, once Agent Simmons had taken everything down. ‘This is exclusively an FBI operation. From what we understand the location is isolated by woods, no neighbors, no one around, that was the main reason why it was chosen, so if there’s no need for you to let anyone else know. . don’t let anyone else know. Get on to it now, and get back to me the second you find anything.’
Kennedy put the phone down and returned his attention to the monitors and the interview just in time to hear Lucien’s last comment. His body tensed and he looked at Doctor Lambert.
‘Did he just say that they ate their own daughter?’
Doctor Lambert was sitting before one of the monitors with a disbelieving look on his face. He wanted to play back the recording just to be sure, but he knew he didn’t need to. He knew he’d heard right. Without diverting his attention from the monitor, he nodded slowly.
At that precise moment there was a knock on the door to the control room. The person didn’t wait for a reply, pushing the door open.
‘Director Kennedy,’ the man said, stepping into the room.
Chris Welch was in his early forties with short blond hair that was brushed back off his forehead. He was carrying what looked to be a notebook of some sort.
‘Sorry to disturb you, sir.’ Welch was with the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit. ‘You asked me to notify you immediately if we came across anything that seemed relevant in any of these books.’ He nodded at the notebook he was holding. It was a regular 8x10.5-inch notebook, with a marbled brown and black hardcover.
All the books and notebooks that were retrieved from Lucien’s house in Murphy had been handed in to the FBI’s BAU. Their task was to scrutinize their content.
‘I thought you’d like to have a look at this.’ Welch Hipped the notebook open and handed it to Kennedy.