Rees stepped closer to him, concern and questions creasing her brow.
Trent could just imagine what she was thinking, only hearing his side of the conversation. He gave her a reassuring press of the lips and concentrated on the phone. “Would you like me to check the house for you, Mrs. Hanson? Make sure everything is secure?”
“No. That’s not necessary. I’m fine. I just don’t take visitors when Paul isn’t home. Please.”
Trent narrowed his eyes, scanning the house and surrounding landscape. “Is someone in the house with you, Mrs. Hanson?”
“What? No. I don’t know you. You could be anybody.”
He drew in a deep breath of patience, still searching for anything suspicious, anything out of place. “I’m an agent with the FBI, ma’am. I showed you my badge.”
“How do I know what an FBI badge looks like? It could be fake. You could be one of those inmates coming after my husband. You could be anyone.”
This was getting stranger by the minute. Trent rubbed the back of his neck. “Have inmates come after your husband before, ma’am?”
“Well, no. But it could happen. Anything could happen. I have to go now.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. If you don’t come out to the gate so I can make sure you’re okay, I’ll have to come in.”
Silence stretched across the phone line.
“Ma’am?”
“Very well. But only for a moment.”
A click sounded on the other end of the line and the phone went dead.
Trent replaced the receiver.
“What’s going on?” Rees whispered.
“Probably nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Get back in the car.”
Risa jutted her chin in a stubborn angle. “I’ll be fine right here.”
“It was worth a try.”
After a long minute, the front door finally swung open and a skeleton-thin woman with long brown hair stepped onto the porch. With small shuffling steps, she approached the gate. “Here I am. Happy now?”
“I’m relieved that you’re all right.”
“I told you I was all right.” As she drew closer, the streetlight illuminated her features. Her face looked pinched. “Is this about the bribes?”
Trent tried his best not to let his surprise show. He didn’t know anything about bribes, but he wasn’t about to tell Mrs. Hanson that. “What can you tell me about the bribes, ma’am?”
“Probably nothing you don’t already know.”
Since he didn’t know a damn thing, he seriously doubted that. “Please, start from the beginning.”
She eyed him warily. “About a month ago, Paul noticed that serial killer who escaped was getting extra TV time and time out of his cell. He thinks some of his guards may have been accepting bribes. Surely he told you this already.”
“Did Warden Hanson tell you who he thought was paying the bribes?”
She sighed. “I overheard him talking on the phone. The name was unusual. I can’t quite recall. Farrah, or something. A woman.”
“Farrentina?”
“That’s it.”
Farrentina Hamilton was bribing guards. And the warden knew about it. Interesting. A vision of Warden Hanson’s Armani suit and French cuffs filled Trent’s mind’s eye. As the wife of millionaire Wingate Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton had more than enough money to pay the warden for his silence.
“Well, thank you for your help, Mrs. Hanson. I’ll speak with your husband another time.”
“Fine. Good.” She twisted a shank of her long brown hair in her fingers.
“I’ll have the Lake Loyal Police Department check on you.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“There are many bad people out here.”
“Fine. They won’t have to come in, will they?”
“I’ll ask them to simply drive by.”
“Oh. I suppose that will be okay. Good night.” She abruptly turned away and scampered for the house.
As the woman closed the door behind her, Risa turned to look at him. “It’s so sad.”
He pulled himself from tangled thoughts of Warden Hanson and Farrentina Hamilton. He wasn’t following. “What’s sad?”
She gestured to the house, locked tight and shuttered behind the security fence. “Mrs. Hanson. The poor woman. It’s as if she’s using gates and locks to shut out everything from her life. And all she has left is shadows and fear.”
“Maybe it’s the only way she can do what she needs to do. The only way she can survive.”
“Then surviving is all she’s doing. Because she isn’t living. Not that way.”
Trent’s chest ached with each beat of his heart. A life infested with evil wasn’t truly living. It was only survival. The meanest, basest kind. Rees didn’t know how right she was.
And if he had anything to say about it, she never would.
Risa
“Ready?”
Risa nodded to Trent. Keeping her eyes locked on the brick mansion jutting out of the thick bank of trees ahead, she stifled a shiver. The house was beautiful, to be sure. The oldest and grandest home in the area by far. But there was something about it. Something that felt dark, foreboding. Like one of those gothic mansions in horror movies.
Or maybe that was more about Farrentina Hamilton’s ties to Ed Dryden.
What kind of a woman was she? One who married a multimillionaire and yet sent erotic photos of herself to a serial killer. One who might be able to give Risa insight into Ed Dryden she hadn’t yet contemplated.
Deputies watching the Hamilton mansion hadn’t seen any sign of Dryden or Nikki, but that didn’t mean the woman inside hadn’t made contact. Or helped him escape. Or knew where he was now.
They continued up the cobblestone driveway to the entrance. Reaching the stoop, Trent pressed the doorbell. A cascade of chimes echoed through the house.
“Creepy,” he said.
“Creepy? Is that a professional assessment?”
“As a matter of fact…”
“Let me take the lead, Trent.”
“Don’t trust me? I promise not to use the word creepy. Much.”
Risa couldn’t suppress a little smile. “I trust you.”
“Professional curiosity?”
“That or professional challenge. I’ll let you know.”
“Damn.” He grinned. “And I forgot to make popcorn.”
After a minute, the light over their heads blinked on, and Farrentina herself pulled open the massive door.
She looked older than she did in the pictures. Lines fanned the corners of her eyes and creased the edges of her mouth. But the woman was still beautiful in a well-kept way. Probably had weekly facials and pedicures.
Risa couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a pedicure.
Trent identified himself. He was about to introduce Risa when Farrentina interrupted.
“I know. The sister-in-law. How fucking lucky am I?” Her voice was soft, breathy, making her comments sound like swear words on the tongue of a child.
“You’ve been talking to Ed Dryden?” Risa asked. Trent had said police were keeping an eye on Farrentina, but Risa could imagine Dryden’s eyes watching them all the same.
“Not for a while.”
“You seem to be expecting us.”
“Just getting used to attracting attention lately.”
“From Dryden?”
“From cops. Although talking to a fibbie and a shrink will be more fun than the local flatfoots. And cheaper than seeing my therapist. That bitch overcharges.”
“So are you inviting us in?” Trent asked.
Farrentina waved her hand in the air, the bell sleeve of the red silk robe she wore flapping like a matador’s cape. “Why the hell not? Entertain me.”