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“Did they share details?”
“Some,” Ellie said. “Although they didn’t have to. We found enough evidence to prove their culpability. Agent Fox and I have been reviewing the tapes Harvey made of the murders.”
“Harvey?”
Ellie nodded. “He was the student who filmed the mock murders,” Ellie said.
“I thought he’d moved away and attended film school.”
“Apparently not. He became a forensic investigator.”
“And you have those tapes?”
“Yes,” Ellie said. “That, and souvenirs the men took from the victims.”
Ellie’s phone rang. Derrick. “Excuse me, I have to take this. Agent Fox is at the hospital questioning the apartment manager now. We think he may know something.”
Dr. Dansen pursed her lips and Ellie turned and walked to the door to the patio. “Derrick?”
“Yeah. Listen, Coolidge said Dr. Dansen was at Lake Haven Apartments the day Amy Dean was murdered.”
A chill went through Ellie.
“I’ll find her for questioning,” he said.
“No need,” Ellie said, striving for a calm voice. “Here.”
The floor creaked behind her and Ellie spun around. The woman was walking toward her with a .38 in her hand.
ONE HUNDRED FORTY-TWO
Derrick pressed the accelerator, taking the turns on two wheels. Had Dansen known the men’s plans? Had she orchestrated everything through her criminology class, choosing susceptible subjects, studying them and guiding them to pursue their secret dark fantasies?
The muffled voice he and Ellie had heard on the tape must have been hers. When they’d asked her about the class, she’d mentioned the guy who’d filmed the mock murders had moved away as a misdirect, so they wouldn’t look for him.
The college had supported her program. Law enforcement agencies had counted it as a prerequisite. Even the FBI had respected her knowledge and asked her to guest speak at conferences.
The implications of who and how many she’d affected—even inspired, as her followers would probably say—was staggering.
And now she was at Ellie’s.
Derrick pounded the steering wheel with his fist, cursing the fact that he’d left her alone.
Like any game with intelligent participants, Harvey and Dansen had gone virtually unnoticed. Insinuated themselves in the investigation by willingly offering information to appear to be helping them.
A classic move.
One he should have considered.
His mistake.
And now Ellie might pay for it.
ONE HUNDRED FORTY-THREE
CROOKED CREEK
“You should have drunk the coffee,” Dr. Dansen said. “That would have made it so much easier and less painful, Detective. But I do admire your work.” She waved the gun in Ellie’s face. “You’ve been the most interesting and challenging opponent.” Her laugh tinkled through the air as she gestured toward the steaming mug. “I shall truly miss you. Now suck it down and we can avoid the mess.”
