“Definitely. I am surprised it took you people so long to find me.”
“Why is that?”
“I left you enough clues.” He gestured to all the pictures scattered across the table. “It was all there, all these years, pointing in my direction.”
When Mitchell asked him about Gillian Winslow, the therapist his parents had hired and assigned as Zachary’s trustee, Zachary decided he’d given them enough information. “I think I’ll request a lawyer now. I want the same deal as the Green River Killer.”
“What deal is that?”
“I want life.”
“Anything else you want to tell us before a lawyer is appointed to you?”
“Yes. I want the world to know that nobody out there really gets it.”
“Nobody gets what, exactly?”
“Evil never dies.”
“Can you explain?”
“Of course. You can catch a killer like me and throw away the key, but there’s always someone else out there slicing and dicing, killing people just because they can. Me,” he said, pointing to his chest, “I am a natural born killer. I killed my own sister, and if given the chance, I would do it again.”
Lizzy could see now why she hadn’t recognized Jake Polly from Hayley’s sketch. Kathryn had been right about his magnetism, and that was something most artists just couldn’t translate to paper. Since Kathryn had seen him last, his nose had definitely been broken, maybe more than once—by his victims, Lizzy hoped. His hair was short and straight, much different from the thick, wavy hair Kathryn had described. Zachary had no facial hair whatsoever.
But they had found him, and that’s all that mattered.
“Good work,” Jimmy said. “That’s officially a wrap for me.”
There was a mischievous glint in his eye.
“You’re finally going to retire?” Lizzy asked.
He jingled the coins inside his pants pockets. “That’s right. I want to learn to sail. I want to travel and spend time with the grandkids.”
“Good for you. I hope you really do it this time . . . for your sake.”
“What about you, Lizzy? Are you going to keep fighting the good fight?”
“Nope. I’m finished being a PI. It took losing Jared to realize this isn’t the life I want to lead, and that’s something I’ll never forget.”
Jimmy looked surprised. “No more investigative work?”
“I’ve had enough. And Zachary Tucker is right.”
“About what?”
“Evil never dies. It never ends. Jared knew that. He got it. But me? I kept thinking I could make a dent.” She shook her head. “It’s impossible. For every evil person caught and locked behind bars, there’s two more waiting on the sidelines.”
“You made a difference, Lizzy. That counts for a lot.”
“Thanks, Jimmy. I’m wishing you the best. Stay in touch, will you?”
“I’ll send you a postcard. Let you know what I’m up to.”
They came to their feet, smiled at each other, and then he gave her one of his comforting bear hugs.
Mitchell came out of the interrogation room. He raised his arms and tried to get a kink out of his shoulder. His eyes were bloodshot. “Lock that crazy son of a bitch up until he has a goddamn attorney. We’ve got what we need for now.”
Jimmy and Mitchell stepped to the side and shared a few words before Jimmy headed off. Three officers brought Zachary Tucker out of the room. His arms and legs were now chained to his wheelchair.
“Hey, Lizzy Gardner,” he said cheerily, metal chains clinking as he gestured her way. He looked at Mitchell. “Can I talk to her for a minute?”
Mitchell looked at Lizzy, who nodded her approval.
Mitchell motioned for the guard, letting them know it was OK to push Zachary that way.
“What? No privacy?”
“Never again,” Mitchell told him.
Zachary set his wicked gaze on Lizzy. He looked as if he wanted to hypnotize her with his eyes. “Good thing you caught up to me when you did, because your niece was on my mind.”
Lizzy didn’t flinch.
“I bet you’re thinking the same thing I think every time I have my next victim in sight.”
“What’s that?”
“Kill, kill, kill, kill.”
“No,” she said. “That’s not what I’m thinking at all.”
“Tell me, please.”
The corner of her mouth turned up slightly before she said, “I’m thinking about you spending the rest of your life behind bars, hopefully in solitary confinement, every day alone with no one to talk to, no freedom whatsoever.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
“Very happy.”
“You talked to Kathryn, didn’t you?” he asked.
“Several times.”
“Did she show you the picture I painted for her?”
“Nope. Didn’t mention it.”
A flash of anger crossed over his face, and yet he recovered quickly. “She’s in love with me, isn’t she?”
“Not even a little bit.”
His eyes searched her face for the truth. “You’re lying. Want to know how I know?”
“How?”
“It takes a liar to know one.”
“OK, that’s enough chatter,” Mitchell said. “Get his ugly mug out of here.”
The guards pushed Zachary’s wheelchair out of the room. Agents and security filed out after them until there were only three people left in the room: Mitchell, Jessica, and Lizzy.
“You did good,” Mitchell said. “Both of you.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jessica said.
“Jared Shayne was right about you, Jessica Pleiss.”
“How so?”
“He said from the beginning that you were going to be a top-notch profiler. Judging by what I’ve seen so far, he was right. Your keen assessment of the crimes and the reconstruction of events were point on. I’m going to put in a good word for you at Quantico.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Now get out of here, both of you. Go get some rest.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Two days later, Lizzy walked out of the doctor’s office and headed straight for her car. She had an appointment with a real estate agent in Loomis. She’d seen the house on the Internet six months ago, had even shown it to Jared. He’d liked it, too. It was run-down and not very big, but it was set on ten acres. She’d only seen the pictures online, but if the house was even half as cozy and quaint as it looked to be in the pictures, she would make an offer. Jared had left her a tidy sum, including the proceeds from the sale of his house. She would sell the business, too, and would be able to live comfortably if she stayed within her means.
She couldn’t live with Kitally and Hayley forever, especially now that she knew she was going to have a baby.
After she drove up the long dirt road to the house, she stopped the car and realized the place was even better than she’d imagined. The house had been built in harmony with its natural surroundings. There were fruit trees and plenty of shade trees—a relaxed country setting. There was a pond and a rickety old barn in the foreground. It was hard to believe no one had scooped up the house months ago.
The agent greeted her at the door, took her on a leisurely tour. There were two bedrooms and a smaller room without a closet that could be made into an office if she ever felt the need. Overall it was small, just as she knew it would be, but the high ceilings and open floor plan made it feel airy and spacious. She and the agent turned on faucets and discussed water wells and the two inches of irrigation water she would get during the summer.
When they were done, Lizzy told her she wanted to make an offer. There wasn’t any furniture, so they stood at the kitchen counter and drew up the papers. The agent said she would be in touch.
Lizzy’s next stop was the cemetery. The place was beautiful and well kept. In the distance there was a funeral taking place—mourners dressed in black, heads down. Lizzy walked past rows of grand headstones. She stopped to view one weathered sandstone marker that appeared to be as old as time. “1892, Corrie Perrelman, beloved wife, mother, and sister.”