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Like most patients on their first visit, she was twitchy. The Exit sign was the first thing patients looked for when they sat down.
Although this was not the first time he’d met her, it was her first visit as his patient. The other time, in passing years ago at Widow Peak College… well, he didn’t know if she even remembered it.
Odd that she would be nervous around him when she spent her life writing love letters to serial killers. He wondered if she had some kind of secret agenda in coming here today. He also wondered if she’d driven his colleague into an early retirement.
He adopted his calming, professional monotone to soothe her nerves, lulling her into pouring out her twisted heart. Oh, how he was fascinated by tortured souls, the challenge of unraveling their secrets and the innerworkings of their demented minds.
Underneath the surface, he understood her fascination.
“Odessa,” he said, “tell me what’s on your mind today.”
She examined her nails, which were chewed down to the nubs.
“I… think Dom’s seeing another woman.”
He simply waited, knowing his silence would open the floodgates of her obvious distress until it poured out.
“I mean, he can’t be since he has limited visitation at Hayes Prison. But I think someone else is writing to him, too.”
He simply nodded. According to his former colleague’s notes, Odessa suffered from hybristophilia, a condition where sexual arousal was linked to people who’d committed extraordinary crimes. An interesting paraphilia, which astounded some. Adventure-seekers felt a similar adrenaline when they skydived out of a plane or skied down a mountain. Her rush came from living vicariously through the stories of a man’s power and the way he fed on inflicting pain.
“Serial killers often do have followers,” he said. “But there’s nothing you can do to stop him from receiving mail.” Or other visitors, for that matter.
A sinister look streaked her eyes. “But he said he loved me. That I was special.”
“You are special to him,” he said. “He enjoys the attention you give him.” He probably had dozens or more other women he fed the same line.
Her ruby-red lips formed a pout. “Maybe.”
“What is it about this man that attracts you?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.
She closed her eyes, her breasts rising and falling as she appeared to be lost in her fantasy. “It was love at first sight. The moment I saw his picture in the news I had to get to know him.”
Radcliff would also kill her if given the chance.
Leaning forward, she placed her hand over his. She thought she could use her sexuality to convince him to do whatever she had planned. Others had tried, too.
“Please, Doctor. All I need are some conjugal visits,” she said. “If you write a letter of recommendation for me, say I won’t try and sneak a weapon or contraband in again, maybe the warden would listen.”
Leon eased his hand from beneath hers. “Areyou going to try something again?”
Her lips curled into a wicked smile. “Of course not. All I want is to give my man some love. Doesn’t he deserve that?”
“Everyone deserves love,” he said matter-of-factly. “Although you know Dominique—”
“Dom,” she interrupted. “He likes it when I call him Dom.”
Leon gave an understanding nod. “Radcliff literally butchered several women, hacked off their hair and painted their lips with their own blood.”
“I know. But he has another side to him.” A dazed look lit her eyes. “When I’m with him, he’s not like that. He’s loving and tender. And there’s the rush of danger. The closeness to death makes me feel alive.”
He could warn her that Radcliff was using her and would discard her when she served no purpose anymore. But he’d be wasting his time.
She craved that rush.
He glanced at the clock on the wall.
The minutes were ticking away.
