Kill him, said the voice inside his head.
Crutch considered it. Crutch was stronger than people realized, his body toned from hundreds of push-ups he did every day in the privacy of his cell. But Linderman was also fit, and was a killer.
An even match, Crutch thought. Those were never good.
“You have a very active imagination,” Crutch replied.
Linderman took a step forward, halving the distance between them. The gesture was not lost on Crutch. The FBI agent was not afraid of him.
“Mr. Clean screwed up,” Linderman said. “A witness overheard his conversation with you. Mr. Clean said, “I found a boy for The Program.’ I didn’t understand what that meant until I came up here. You’ve written something that will turn boys into monsters, and Mr. Clean is helping you try it out. The first two teenagers he abducted didn’t work out, so he killed them. I guess you’re hoping the third boy is the charm.”
Linderman was smarter than he’d thought. He’d taken all the pieces of the puzzle, and put them together without making a single mistake. He even knew about The Program.
Kill him, said the voice.
Crutch reined in the murderous impulse. He had one last card hidden up his sleeve. He could still save himself if he played that card right.
“I will not turn over Mr. Clean, or for that matter, anyone else,” Crutch said. “But I will give you something much more valuable, if you leave me alone.”
“What’s that?” Linderman replied.
“Your daughter.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I never kid.”
“Do you have any idea how many prisoners in Florida have reached out to me, and offered information about Danni? Dozens. I didn’t cut any deals with them, and I won’t cut any deals with you. This conversation is over.”
Linderman moved for the door, never taking his eyes off Crutch.
“But this information is different,” Crutch said.
“Right,” he said.
“Please listen to what I have to say.”
Linderman reached for the door, then stopped. Crutch smiled cruelly. He had the FBI agent right where he wanted him. He slapped his hands on his thighs like someone keeping time at a square dance, his eyes dancing in his head.
“Your daughter is still alive,” Crutch said.
Chapter 29
The words hit Linderman hard.
Long ago, he had accepted that Danni was probably dead. As an FBI agent, he knew the odds of her being alive were slim at best. More than likely, she’d been killed within a few hours of being abducted, her body stashed in some hidden place that would elude the police and other searchers for years to come.
But deep down he’d held out hope that Danni was still alive. It was the hope that every parent of a missing child kept burning in their hearts. Somehow, their son or daughter had managed to beat the odds, and not be killed by their abductor.
And now Crutch was telling him that his prayers had been answered, and Danni had not perished. It was not the messenger he would have wanted, but he was not going to turn it away. He released his hand from the door knob.
“Keep talking,” Linderman said.
“Step back into the room if you want to hear more,” Crutch said.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Don’t you want to know?”
Of course Linderman wanted to know. It was the only thing on this earth that he truly cared about. But he would not take orders from a monster. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited.
“I’m listening,” Linderman said.
“I’m not lying, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Crutch said.
“It would be a stupid lie to tell.”
“Well put. Before I continue, I need to know if we have a deal or not.”
“I need to hear more.”
“Very well. To be honest, it was why I thought you came to the prison. I knew Simon Skell very well.”
“And Skell told you about Danni.”
“Skell talked about all his victims. He was a braggart. Skell approached your daughter in the parking lot of her college dormitory. He had a plaster cast on his arm – Ted Bundy’s old trick to draw sympathy – and claimed he was lost. Your daughter had been out for a morning run, and was out of breath. She turned to show him how to find the place he was looking for, and Skell banged her over the head with his cast, and threw her into the trunk of his car. It was early morning; no one saw a thing. Skell said that your daughter dropped her keys, and he regretted not picking them up.”
Linderman let out a deep breath. Crutch was playing him like a fiddle. Danni’s keys had been found by the Miami police in the parking area of her dorm. It was one of several pieces of information regarding her disappearance which had never been released to the public.
“Keep talking,” Linderman said.
“Your daughter was Skell’s slave for several weeks. She somehow managed to weasel her way into Skell’s heart. Perhaps being the daughter of a famous FBI agent gave her training to deal with such a situation – yes?”
Linderman lowered his arms, his hands clenched into fists.
“Skell also told me that your daughter was a wonderful cook,” Crutch said. “Her baked goods were particularly delicious.”
Linderman found himself nodding. Danni had learned to cook from his wife, and had once considered going to culinary school and making it her profession.
“Go on,” he said.
“Skell admired your daughter’s moxie, and decided not to kill her. He told me she was the only victim he’d spared.”
“What did he do with her?”
“He found a home for her. One where she could put her talents to use.”
“Skell gave my daughter away?”
“He sold her. There are people in the world who desire slaves. Skell found one of these people in Florida, and worked out a deal. The buyer was a rich foreigner who wanted a pretty young woman to cook and clean for him. Skell even told Danni the terms.”
“What terms?”
“You know, the arrangement. If Danni did certain things for her new owner, he would take care of her. If not, she would perish.”
“Did my daughter agree to these terms?”
“According to Skell, yes.”
“And you know who this person is.”
“Yes, I do.”
It was the kind of thing that Linderman could see his daughter doing. He decided that Crutch was telling him the truth.
“Tell me how you want to work this,” Linderman said.
“Is that a yes?”
“I want to hear the details first.”
“The devil is in the details, yes?”
“Don’t push it.”
Crutch dropped his voice to a confessional whisper. “This is what I want from you. First, you must leave me alone. No more intrusions into my world or surprise visits to the prison. You will not write a report about what I did, or talk about what happened here to anyone. As far as you’re concerned, I no longer exist. Understood?”
“Keep talking.”
“Second, you will not come to my parole hearing next year, and say unpleasant things about me. I have done my time, and want to be released.”
“Is that it?”
“There’s more. You will also contact that rotten prick Robert Kessler, and instruct him to stay away from the parole hearing as well.”
“What about Warden Jenkins? I can’t control what he says.”
“Jenkins won’t come to the hearing on his own. He’s more concerned about keeping his cushy job than what happens to me. Do you think he wants me telling the parole board that there were drug dealers inside Starke conducting business over cell phones? My bases are covered with Jenkins. It’s the FBI that I’m worried about.”
“When do I get the name?” Linderman asked.
“The moment I’m paroled, I will pick up the phone and call you, and tell you the name of the rich foreigner who’s keeping your precious daughter. Your search will be over. You will be free, just like I’ll be free. Now, do we have a deal?”