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Chapter Six
The three and half hour drive to Nashville didn’t settle the race of my heart. Even after we entered Riverbend Maximum Security Prison, and went through security, the dampness still spread across my palms.
“I don’t want to be here,” I said to Zach.
He made a face at me. “You’re in a maximum security prison. What do you think could happen to you?”
I glanced around the empty room we sat in. The steel table screwed into the floor, and the hard plastic chairs didn’t offer comfort. But the guards stationed everywhere is what unsettled me the most. It meant there were too many psychopaths in this prison that could in fact gut me.
“Who the heck knows?” I wasn’t at all ashamed that my voice trembled. I was damn right scared, down to my very bones. “I’m not made for this type of stuff.”
“What stuff is that exactly?” Kipp asked, amusement rolled off his tone, as those unique eyes twinkled at me.
I gave him a look. “Dealing with crazy-ass killers stuff.”
Both men laughed, as did Dane, who we picked up at the station on the way. Even he didn’t seem nervous, but why would he be? He worked with the F.B.I.. I assumed that meant he’d dealt with some crazies in the years he’d been there.
“This isn’t funny,” I snapped. “I’m seriously shitting myself right now. I don’t want to meet an insane criminal.” I wiggled in my seat searching out an exit. “Hell, I hate dealing with ghosts who face untimely deaths, but to meet someone who could cause me to become a ghost…freaks me out!”
“You’ll do fine,” Kipp said.
“You’ve said that same line a thousand times on the drive up here, and guess what? I still don’t believe you.”
Dane said, “I, too, find it somewhat amusing that real people frighten you.”
I shot a glare his way. “Real people are scarier, crueler, and quite horrible if they choose to be. Ghosts are just fine. I’d rather stick to them, thank you very much.”
As my lips shut, the door clicked opened, cutting off any response from the men, which I assumed would be laughter. I clasped my hands in my lap, as fear coursed through my veins settling a deep pain into my gut. “Oh, God.”
“That ain’t God,” Kipp remarked.
“No shit,” I whispered.
Hector strode into the room with two guards on either side of him. His hands chained together, which ran all the way down to his feet. He sat in the chair across from me, and the guard attached the chains to the table. My nose crinkled scenting a mixture of sweat, coffee, and cigarettes wafting off him.
That exit sounded all too good right about now. Anyone that needed to be chained to a table wasn’t someone I wanted to have a chat with.
I stared at Kipp, let my fear show, and hoped he’d agree and tell me to go. Instead, I found him grinning from ear-to-ear. I scowled and hesitantly returned my attention to Hector.
He appeared normal enough, but I learned from the last killer that I’d been face-to-face with that looks were deceiving. The who sitting in front of me was a cold-blooded man. His gray eyes scanned the faces in the room, void of all emotion, then settled on me. And I tried my damndest not to show him how afraid I was. Doubtful it worked.
“I’m Detective Zach Foster,” Zach said. “This is Dane Wolfe.” Then, he gestured toward me. “And Tess Jennings.”
“The pleasure is mine,” Hector responded with an alluring tone. He smiled and his toothless grin made that fear wash away to an overwhelming urge to vomit.
“Hrmph,” was my response.
Hell would freeze over before I’d take any enjoyment in speaking to the likes of him.
Hector finally tore his gaze away from me and focused on Zach. “Why have you requested this meeting?”
“We’ve come to ask you about the death of Lizbeth Knapp,” Zach answered, and I admired his firm tone. “Are you willing to discuss that with us?”
Hector shrugged. “Don’t know much about it.”
Zach’s brow furrowed, his gaze searching Hector’s, and for what I wasn’t quite sure. The truth? “Do you deny that you were there the night she died?”
Hector moved his hand, causing the chains to rattle, as he shifted in his seat. “I suppose I was there, or so they told me recently. But I can tell ya, I don’t remember being there, and I sure as hell don’t remember why they found me at the house.”
