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D.J. grunted. “If our fans only knew the truth. But no one wants to hear that. The carnage. The twisted facts that make you want to puke.”
“Nothing exciting about looking at photos of young women slaughtered by one of these psychopaths. Most television shows and novels aren’t honest. They portray us as heroes and the UNSUBs as inhuman. But the frightening thing is they are human. Some can fit neatly into society so that no one knows what they really are. Some of the people here tonight could be working next to a monster and not know it.”
“You’re thinking of Ted Bundy.”
“That’s the kind of killer that scares me the most. The ones who can’t connect to society? They’re easier to find. Sometimes I wonder how many Bundys are out there. Making friends. Gaining trust. Just waiting for an opportunity to...” He sighed. “Sorry. I’m babbling. I’m just so tired tonight. Truthfully? I’m too tired every night. It might be time for me to go home and spend what time I have left with my family.”
“You do what you need to do, John. You’ve given enough.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
Maybe D.J. was right. These things sucked the life out of him. His speeches were whitewashed versions of the truth. People wanted nice killers. Stories you could repeat in polite society. Some of the more sordid facts stayed in the minds of law enforcement, lurking in the recesses of their thoughts, sometimes trying to claw their way out, overthrowing the idea of a sane and sensible world. A world where redemption still existed.
“Thanks for the call, D.J., but I’ve got to hit the hay. I’m out of here first thing in the morning. I have an eight a.m. flight.”
“I could meet you for breakfast. You have to eat.”
“Maybe. Can I let you know after I get up?”
“Sure. Just call me. No pressure. Hey, thanks again for coming.”
“You bet. Talk to you in the morning.”
John disconnected the call, D.J.’s words echoing in his head. “You’re the main event, you know.” He’d done thirty of these speaking engagements last year. It was March, and here he was at it again. He was exhausted, inside and out. He had enough money, and his ego didn’t need more attention. He’d made his mark. So why keep going?
He took off his jacket and tossed it over a nearby chair. He’d told housekeeping not to clean the room but to leave fresh towels. He checked, and sure enough his used towels were gone and new ones had been left in their place. He noticed that a tray from breakfast was still on the table. He’d assumed they’d take it, but it seemed they took it literally when he said towels only. He thought about putting the tray in the hallway, but he might run into another excited convention fan. He decided to just leave it on the table. The cleaning staff would get it tomorrow after he left.
He grabbed his sweats out of his suitcase. He’d hung up his convention clothes, but everything else stayed packed. Faster and easier when he was ready to check out.
After a quick shower, John grabbed his cell phone. Sometimes Susan wanted to video chat so she could tell him how much she missed him. He needed to hear that now. He just wanted to go home to Houston and sit by her side on the couch with the fireplace crackling in the background as they drank hot cocoa and watched a funny movie. He was at peace then. The demons quieted. The flashes of horror stayed buried.
He called Susan using the new app he’d recently downloaded. He’d been sent an offer for a free three-month trial. If he decided to keep it, the cost was surprisingly low, and it was supposed to be better than Zoom. It not only allowed you to see the person you were talking to but recorded the video in case you wanted to replay it later. He’d accepted the offer only because he missed Susan so much when he was gone.
When she answered, he saw her beautiful face smiling at him. Her warm voice filled his ear.
“I love this new video calling program,” she said, “but I’d like to see you too. Isn’t it supposed to work both ways?”
“Sorry. I haven’t figured out the problem yet. You know I’m useless when it comes to technology. I’ll ask Brandt to look at it when I get home. I’m sure he’ll take pity on his clueless grandfather and show me how to work this thing.”
They chatted for a few minutes before John told her he had to get some sleep. “I can’t wait to be home. I love you.”
They always ended their calls the same way. He waited for Susan’s “I love you more” before hanging up.
He put down his phone, but then he decided to check his email. He found nothing vital, but one message’s subject line—in all caps—caught his attention: John. Read this. Important. He thought about ignoring it, but curiosity got the better of him. It was probably from a Nigerian prince telling him he would get millions of dollars if he helped the man transfer his billions, but John had to know just what was so important to someone. He opened it and read the message: Those in law enforcement pay a heavy price when they constantly look into the dark minds of evil.
It was a quote from his book Dark Minds. John shook his head and exited his account. Someone playing games. Probably another serial killer groupie trying to impress him. It had happened many times before.
John got up and made sure the door was locked, then flipped the metal swing bar closed as well. As he turned around he noticed an envelope on the floor. A bill? He picked it up. He wasn’t paying for his room. The people in charge of the convention were picking up the tab. He opened it anyway and found a page from a book folded inside. He walked over to the bed and sat down. The lamp on the nightstand was still on, and he held the paper under the light. It was a page from Dark Minds. What was going on?
Three sentences were underlined in red. In those early days, I worked with several great agents. The success we had didn’t belong to one person. We were a team, each agent bringing his special skills to our efforts. He turned the page over and found a numeral scrawled on the back, but he had no idea what it meant.
John frowned. He was getting irritated. Tomorrow he’d talk to the people in charge of the convention as well as the hotel manager. They shouldn’t have allowed this to happen. But as he thought about it, he sighed. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. The hotel was full, and management couldn’t watch every single guest. Neither could the organizers watch every attendee. He should be used to it. At least a dozen times he’d had to contact the police for help against people who’d felt compelled to get involved in his life. Who thought they knew him since they’d read his books. He prayed this wasn’t another stalker. If anything else unusual happened tonight, he’d call the manager and let him know.
But right now all he wanted was sleep. He was safely locked inside his room. This situation only served to reinforce his new commitment to stay home with Susan and enjoy whatever years they had left together. Maybe God was sending him a message, confirming what he felt in his heart.
He put the envelope with the page inside on the nightstand, then got up and opened the long drapes that covered the large glass windows stretching across the wall on the other side of the room. Good, a full moon was out, and the hotel property had some outdoor lights too. He never slept in the dark. Hadn’t for years. Not since he’d learned what can lurk there. He also didn’t like feeling closed in. He mentally acknowledged the moon’s beauty, but tonight his soul was too deadened to really appreciate it. He turned off every light in his room, then climbed into bed and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He’d decided. This would definitely be his last speaking engagement. He’d cancel the rest.
He was just dozing off when his phone rang. Thinking it might be Susan, he rolled onto his side. When he saw her name on the screen, he answered.
