It was imperative that she meet him in person to seek out the truth about who Victor’s father was and to see for herself where he came from. She needed to try and either confirm or renounce in her own mind, his connection to the man. Since his mother was gone, the only one left was Anthony. After the way things had gone with her mother’s visit and the way Victor had calmly reacted and seemed to be understanding of her family’s plight to keep them apart, she found it hard to believe that he could be related to a murderer.
Elsa swallowed the lump of anxiety lodged in her throat as she drove to the Virginia State Penitentiary. She was fortunate to have been granted an ‘interview’ with Anthony Bruce considering the media firestorm that was swirling all around him. According to Victor, in another few days Anthony’s judgment would be coming down the pipe and most likely, all outside visitors would be refused once charges were brought against him and Daniel Franco. She wasn't exactly sure how she had managed to get a meeting with him, but she wasn’t going to let her nerves get the best of her. If she was going to try and trick Anthony into believing she was a journalism student, she needed all the courage she could muster up. Hopefully the fake badge she had printed off would work in getting her past the guards and not thrown out. Or worse – arrested.
With her phone synced to her car stereo, she found several songs Victor had sneakily placed into her playlist. He always had some song playing in the background in either his office or at his house. Just like all things in his life, he planned everything down to the last detail. For that reason, she did her best to listen to the lyrics of each and every one because she knew that whatever the song was, it meant something about the way he was feeling at that moment. As Nicotine Dreams by Laurel played, she tried not to think about how angry Victor would be if he found out about her plans. When he found out. It was just as a matter of time. He knew everything about Anthony and there was no doubt in her mind that it would get back to him about her meeting.
As she dug out her badge and approached the guard’s station, she tried to put on a show of confidence. When the guard eyed her ID dubiously, she briefly considered bolting in the opposite direction. The man behind the glass flipped the badge over several times, inspecting it, before finally asking for another form of ID. Elsa swallowed noisily. She hadn’t anticipated this little glitch. The name on the school ID didn’t match her own, but she was quick on her feet.
Calmly, she handed over her driver’s license and gave the officer her best bashful smile. “I put a fake name on the badge because I don’t want that man knowing my real name. I can give you some other forms of ID if you need,” she dug out her work badge and a credit card with her name on it. “This is who I really am.”
The man checked it all over thoroughly before handing it back to her. “I don’t blame you for not wanting him to know you’re real name. It’s probably for the best. Go on in,” he pointed to the next set of guards doing pat downs and personal items searches.
Finally seated behind a thick glass wall, Elsa fastened the top button of her blouse and tucked her hair back into a bun in an attempt to make herself look as unappealing as possible. She had purposely not worn any make up and didn’t wear any perfume, either.
When a stocky, older man approached the window, her heart began to pound rapidly in her chest. She immediately scanned him head to toe. While looking for some likeness to Victor, she noted that he was chewing gum. Casually, he seated himself as his eyes took in all of her details, too.
When his tongue poked out to slick across his upper lip, a wave of nausea crashed over her. This man had murdered women. A lot of women. In cruel ways. On the rare occasion that Victor slept, she had gotten into the personal case files in his office and done her homework on the serial killer. It was horrifying to read the things this man had done; the things that Victor had studied and was privy to. It was no wonder he had so many demons to deal with. Anthony Bruce had not only tortured his victims while they were alive, but he had done vile things to their corpses after he had snuffed out their lights.
And he had read Victor’s notes on his Chapters. What the hell was Victor thinking by allowing that?
A lewd smile spread over his face when she shifted uncomfortably in her chair, and Elsa couldn’t help but notice that his smile looked nothing like Victor’s.
“I handpicked you.”
Elsa felt her mouth gape widely at his remark. Did he know who she was? Panic settled in low in her gut but she quickly shut her mouth to hide her fear.
“Lots of people wanted to interview me, you know. I’m famous. But when I saw your credentials, I decided I wanted you.”
A wave of relief swept over Elsa so rapidly, she felt lightheaded. Bullshit it was her credentials that made him pick her. It was the fact that she was a woman. How ignorant did he think she was?
“You look like you might pass out…” he chuckled under his breath. “I have that effect on women.” His eyes roamed over her body, face, and settled on her hair. “I ain’t ever been with a red-head before. I hear they’re great lays. Is that true?”
Elsa swallowed the bile that crept up her throat. “I’m not the person you should ask,” she reached for a notepad in her bag to keep up the charade of being a journalism student.
“Who should I ask? Your lovers?”
He leaned forward, making Elsa back away. Even though he was behind a barrier, she felt too close to him and suddenly regretted having gone there. What the fuck was she thinking?
“I didn’t come here to talk about that,” she stated as professionally and curtly as possible, but her words had the opposite effect she had intended.
Anthony’s playfulness disappeared in the blink of an eye and agitation flickered in his eyes; eyes that by all accounts, looked nothing like Victor’s. Maybe the color, but only vaguely. Elsa strained her vision against the reflection of the bright lights against the glass to get a better glimpse of his facial features.
“With that cunty attitude, maybe you should just get the fuck outta here,” he growled.
Elsa forced a contrite smile. She wasn’t ready to leave just yet. She needed information. “My apologies, Mr. Bruce. My nervousness is getting the best of me.”
When his expression softened, she relaxed into the seat. “Have you had a lot of lovers who weren’t your victims?” she dared to ask.
His eyes lit up at her line of questioning. “I’ve had lots of pussy, sure.”
“Central to the State of Virginia or did you branch out?” She was hoping to find out if he had, in fact, been with Victor’s mother in Tuckahoe, where Victor was born.
“You sure ask strange questions,” he crossed his arms over his chest.
She kept her eyes on the notepad and nodded. Yes, she did. But she wanted answers because she had serious doubts about him being Victor’s father. Nothing about them was similar. Not their mannerisms, gestures or facial features. Not even their body shape was similar. Victor was much taller and leaner. But then again, maybe he got those traits from his mother.
When no answer came, she peeked up at him to see him analyzing her every movement with a smug look on his face. “Show me a little somethin’,” he nodded toward her breasts as he smacked his gum loudly, “And I’ll tell you all my secrets, Darlin’.”
The way his voiced oozed smugness and the manner in which he scrutinized and tried to dissect her was the only time she saw any kind of resemblance to Victor.
Elsa’s hands began to shake when a despicable idea popped into her head. It was more than Anthony’s secrets that she wanted, but was it worth it? Victor would be so angry with her, furious. Angry enough that Mr. Black might reappear and furious enough that what she was going to do might drive a permanent wedge between them.