“Who’s he copying?”
“Stephen Raye Vaughn.”
“No shit.”
“Well, too soon to say. I mean, really too soon.” Bledsoe briefed her on Kearney’s theory.
“And yet,” Vail said, “you called me.”
“I didn’t want to shut him down. Kearney’s got promise and — well, you and I have had ‘feelings’ about things in the past. Sometimes they turn out to be right.”
“One thing that’s not right is we’re now finding that ‘copycat’ is a misleading term. They’re not copying per se but looking to successful killers for inspiration and guidance. Some serials — Dennis Rader was one — research other killers who’ve been caught. They don’t duplicate everything because they don’t want to go to prison. So they pattern themselves after a particular killer — but modify certain things to avoid the same fate.”
“Improve on the crime?”
“Yes — and making it their own to stand out. Some admit they were inspired by others. Some deny it, even though it’s clear they chose a specific offender as a role model. Keyes read true crime books about Bundy and avoided the mistakes Bundy made that led to his capture.”
“Okay, so Debra Mead’s kidnapper. He may be patterning himself after Vaughn. We should crack open his file in case there’re some details we don’t remember. Go through the media reports. Talk to Vaughn. Before he bites the dust.”
“He’s being executed in less than two hours.”
“You kidding me? I knew it was soon, like sometime in the next month or so, but... shit. Two hours?”
“I’m on my way over there right now with Robby to witness it. I’ll see if I can get in to talk with him.”
Bledsoe groaned. “Jesus Christ.”
“Hey, at least there’s a shot. He hasn’t been euthanized yet.”
“Euthanized?”
“He’s being put out of our misery.”
There was silence.
Robby gave Vail a scrunched face look — conveying something like, “Probably don’t want to repeat that again. Ever. To anyone.”
“Uh, Karen?” Bledsoe asked. “You sure you’re up to questioning him? I mean, you’re not still on narcotics, are you?”
“Never was. Motrin first day, then gutted it out. Go do your thing. Don’t worry about me.”
“I always worry about you.”
“You mean you always worry about me screwing up your case.”
Bledsoe laughed — as did Robby — but neither refuted her assertion.
“You want me to find out if he has any connection to a potential copycat killer,” Vail finally said. “Whether or not he was grooming someone else.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Let’s hope you can make him talk before he fries like an egg on an iron skillet.”
“He’s being lethally injected,” Vail said, “not electrocuted. I thought we just covered that. Get your metaphors straight, will ya?”
“He does paint a picture,” Robby said.
“That he does.” She scrunched her nose. “I don’t think I’m going to eat a fried egg ever again. Thanks so much, Bledsoe.”
“Any time.”
“So while we cozy up to Vaughn,” Robby said, “what are you doing tonight?”
Bledsoe snorted. “I’m grabbing a beer, frying up an egg, then getting some sleep.”
Vail rolled her eyes and shook her head dismissively. Robby chuckled.
“Hey Paul,” Robby said, “you want to meet us at Phelps Correctional?”
“Nope.”
Vail slumped in her seat. “Really?”
“Really. I’m tired. It’s late.”
“What if I can get something out of Vaughn? He didn’t keep his vics around very long.”
“I remember.”
“So if we get some actionable intel, it would be a time saver if you’re there, coordinate—”
“Shit, Karen. Robby, she did it to me again.”
Robby glanced at Vail. “Did what?”
“Guilted me into changing my mind. Not easy to do.”
“Maybe because she’s right,” Robby said.
“You both suck,” Bledsoe said. “I’ll text Robby when I get there, in case you’re in with Vaughn. Meantime, I’ve gotta see if there’s a chopper that can take me over to Phelps.”
After hanging up, Vail turned to Robby. “You better step on it. If I’m going to talk with him, we’re gonna need more time.”
Robby accelerated slowly but steadily. Because it was so late, traffic was light.
“Crap,” Vail said. “I forgot the popcorn.”
“Popcorn?”
“For the show.”
“Not funny.”
“To be clear, I do take the death penalty very seriously. But when it comes to scum like Vaughn — who’s guilty way beyond a reasonable doubt — I feel like justice is being served. That we got this one right. We caught him and he’s not out killing others.”
“I’ll never forget the look of profound sadness and pain on the faces of the victims’ families.”
“The ones with the deer-in-headlights look get to me more,” Vail said. “They know what’s going to happen but they can’t process the emotions. Should they be happy that the scum who took their loved one from them is finally going to get what he deserves? Or should they feel sad that we’re forced to take the life of a person to exact justice?”
“No matter what happens, their loved ones aren’t coming back.”
“But it does help them sleep a bit easier knowing there was a tangible price to pay. Not closure per se, because I don’t think there’s really ever closure, but the daily pain of knowing the killer is still alive and breathing, getting three meals a day, that pain eases and eventually goes away. It restores some degree of faith in humanity, that you pay a heavy price for taking a life.”
“I get it,” Robby said. “But do you enjoy seeing one of these heinous individuals put to death?”
Vail chewed on that a bit.
Do I enjoy it?
“Before I answer, I should call Phelps, see if I can get the warden to squeeze me in.”
“Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Especially since Doheny hates my guts.”
Robby laughed. “Then maybe I should slow down to the speed limit. Fat chance you’re gonna get in to see Vaughn.”
“You’re my fiancé and you don’t know me by now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Never count me out.”
Five minutes later, Vail hung up.
“I’m impressed,” Robby said.
“Because I got him to agree to let me talk with Vaughn?”
“No, because you were pleasant and conciliatory and tactful.”
“Ouch. That hurts. My own fiancé thinks I’m usually unpleasant, antagonistic, and indiscreet.”
“Well,” Robby said, no doubt realizing he had better choose his words carefully. “Not usually.”
Vail shook her head. “Wrong answer.”
“So to get back to my original question...”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“No, I’m going back to the original subject.”
“Which was?”
“Do you enjoy seeing a serial killer executed?”
Vail leaned her head against the chilled passenger window. “Not sure I’d say enjoy. I’m not a masochist. But I do get satisfaction in seeing one die. I feel... well, relief, when they pronounce him dead. I mean, I know how these guys are wired. They can’t be rehabilitated. We can’t ever release them and expect they’re going to refrain from committing murder again. They’ll never be a contributing member to society.
“So yeah, when their hearts stop, I feel like I’ve made a difference in helping get them off the street — and ridding the human race of such deep evil, of cleansing the gene pool of that abhorrent — and aberrant — behavior. And that’s how I’ll feel when Vaughn’s heart stops.”