the best, exactly. That was an unfortunate choice of words. But something big had to happen to get the DOC to acknowledge our funding problem. Heaven knows, they haven’t been listening to me.”
He gestured widely with his bony hands, his face animated. “I hold the lack of funding responsible for Kane’s escape. I warned our state representative just last week we were short money for overtime and to update security.”
He frowned and shook his head sadly, but no amount of acting could hide the I-told-you-so gleam in his eye. “The state legislature can’t ignore the problem any longer.”
Anger rumbled in Trent’s chest. What a pompous fool. How could he be so insensitive as to even hint he was celebrating the extra funding Kane’s escape would bring? He glowered at the warden. “With Kane on the loose, more innocent people will die. In comparison, I can’t dredge up much sympathy for your prison’s funding problems, Warden.”
At least the pompous money grubber had the decency to appear ashamed. “Yes, of course. I was just looking for the silver lining.”
“There is no silver lining that I can see.” Trent glanced down at his watch. They had already wasted enough time on the warden. Time they didn’t have. “Let’s get on with this, Wiley.”
The warden shot Trent an annoyed look and smoothed a hand over the front of his suit coat. “Yes. You’ll have to excuse me. I have some administrative details to attend to. Good luck, Special Agent Burnell. Professor Madsen.”
“Thank you,” Trent said pointedly. He turned from the retreating warden and toward the cell.
Wiley stood in the cell’s open doorway, glaring at Rees. “Why is she here, Burnell?”
He leveled Wiley with a no-nonsense stare. “Do you have a problem with Ms. Madsen, Wiley? As a professor of psychology—someone who has studied Kane intensely—and the sister of Kane’s accomplice, she will provide insights that will be valuable. Now let’s get on with this.”
Trent couldn’t help catch the grateful look Rees shot him. A grateful look he hardly deserved. Some nice guy he was, letting her in to see whatever gruesome surprise Kane had left for them. He could only hope she did have some valuable insights. He could only hope he wasn’t exposing her to this whole damn nightmare for nothing.
Wiley’s frown deepened, but he led the way into the cell. Rees and Trent followed him inside. The guard who had escorted them remained by the door.
Kane’s cell was small and nearly barren, with a built-in cot on one wall, a storage unit on the other and a toilet with a sink above on the third. The hall had smelled a little like sweaty gym socks, but Kane’s cell reeked of something harsh and slightly minty. “Disinfectant. Kane has been up to his usual compulsive cleaning, I see.”
Rees piped up from beside him. “He talked about it often. He cleaned his cell several times a day. He also said he found nothing as clean and pure as fresh, flowing blood.” Her voice quavered with the memory.
Trent clenched his teeth at the tone of fear in her voice. Damn. Cleanliness was only part of Kane’s compulsion. Only part of the fantasy of control he lived each time he killed. The main part of Kane’s fantasy—the vital part—was the fear he caused in his victims. Their panic as he chased them through the woods. Their screams as he plunged in the knife.
The bastard would have relished the fear in Risa’s eyes when he’d talked about clean, flowing blood. He would have devoured it. And hungered for more.
What the hell had Rees thought she was doing interviewing Kane? Why had she left herself open?
He knew the answer before he’d finished asking himself the question. She’d wanted to understand why Trent had withdrawn from her while working on Kane’s case. Why he’d broken their engagement a short time later. And she’d gone to Kane to find the answers.
He’d delivered her right into Kane’s waiting arms.
And now he was about to bring her deeper into the sordid labyrinth. Deeper into Kane’s twisted mind. Deeper into the world of pain and fear and human evil.
And unless he was willing to risk lives, he couldn’t do a damned thing to stop it.
He turned to the gray wooden storage structure on one wall of the cell. Comprised of shelves, cubbyholes and a writing surface, the unit was filled with stacks of letters, neatly folded magazine pages and a few trinkets. Trent glanced at Wiley. “Has anyone gone through this?”
Wiley shook his head. “When I heard you were on your way, I thought I’d better wait to get your interpretation. I certainly wouldn’t want to step on delicate toes.”
Trent ignored the jab and turned back to the cubbyholes. He reached in, drew out the magazine pages and unfolded them.
Rees peered around his shoulder to get a good look.
The most vile, sadomasochistic pornography Trent had seen in a long time stared back at them. A small gasp escaped Rees’s lips.
Trent zeroed in on her, searching her face with a pointed gaze.
She drew herself up. Deliberately wiping all traces of abhorrence from her face, she met his eyes. “It just surprised me, that’s all.”
Surprised her, hell. She knew the kind of reading material Kane favored. She hadn’t been surprised, she’d been horrified. As well she should be. This kind of filth would horrify any normal person, whether she expected to see it or not. Unfortunately he’d seen more depraved things than this. And not just in pictures. The real scenes were worse. Much worse.
Rees swallowed hard and turned to the detective. “How did Kane get this…stuff?”
Wiley glanced at the pages. His mouth quirked with distaste. “It had to have been smuggled in. Probably by your sister.” The venom in his voice was clear.
Trent tensed. Wiley definitely had some sort of problem with Rees. And whatever it was, he wasn’t about to listen to any more.
But before he could come to Rees’s defense, she nailed Wiley with a challenging stare of her own. “You obviously don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, Detective. Dixie would never have anything to do with filth like this.”
Wiley shrugged. “She married Kane, didn’t she?”
“Yes. She married him after he convinced her that her love made him into a better person. I doubt he could continue that charade if she saw this garbage.”
So much for defending Rees, Trent thought. She could do it just fine herself where Wiley’s barbs were concerned. He made a mental note to find out exactly what Wiley’s problem with Rees was and directed his mind back to the real threat—Kane.
Setting the pornography aside, Trent plucked a stack of letters from one of the cubbyholes and began paging through them. He scanned each page individually, handing it to Rees when he’d finished reading.
Most were from Dixie, long opuses declaring her undying love for the serial killer, her unflagging belief in him and her bitter resentment of her older sister.
“She always has to be right, always has to be better than me…Miss Ph.D. thinks she’s so smart, but she has no idea…”
Trent almost flinched at the hurtful words in the letters. Dixie was envious of Rees, that much was clear. Envy was probably normal for a troubled younger sister like Dixie. But he knew Rees wouldn’t write these cruel words off as mere sibling jealousy. Not Rees. She would accept them like tender flesh accepts a sharp blade. She would internalize them. She would bleed over them.
Gritting his teeth, he kept handing her the pages.
She bit the inside of her bottom lip as she read, her expression carefully neutral, her breathing carefully even, but her eyes shone overbright.
Trent dragged his attention to the next pile of letters. To his relief, this stack wasn’t from Dixie, but from a woman named Farrentina