Page 8 of Line of Sight
When did I first know my true nature? When I was nineteen and I read a book calledAmerican Psycho. Before then I was merely a fledgling killer.
Reading that book wasn’t a light bulb moment—it was more akin to floodlights reaching into the darkest corners of my soul.
That book spoke to me.
Itwhisperedto me.
It revealed a map I knew would lead me somewhere.
Eventually.
And when the time came to put my feet on that path, I knew everything would fall into place. Where Patrick Bateman led, I would follow.
Chapter Four
DAN LOVEDhow organized Gary was. The five folders for the victims had been placed in a neat line on a table, and he knew without opening them that everything would be in there: police report, autopsy, background information, interviews….
And somewhere in all that information, there has to be something that will set us on the right track to unmasking a killer.
All they had to do was find it.
He drank the last of his coffee. “Who was interviewed at the time of Scott’s death?”
Gary leafed through the folder. “His father, stepmother, stepbrother, and Scott’s friends.” He sighed. “The more I read about what kind of guy Scott was, the more I think this is a motiveless crime. The detectives at the time thought so too. He didn’t have an enemy in the world. Whoever did this was one twisted individual.”
“Can we talk to his family? Reinterview them? I know it was a long time ago, but….” They had to start somewhere, and who knew what he could pick up on even after so many years.
That’s why I’m here, right?
“Let me take a look.” Gary tapped on his keyboard and peered at his monitor. “Owen McCarthy stepped down from his business interests in 2005, and his stepson Greg took over.”
“Eleven years after Scott’s death.”
Gary nodded. “Owen died in 2006, aged fifty-eight.”
“Any photos of Greg?”
“A couple.” Gary clicked on the mouse and in the corner of the room the printer whirred into action. “That’s from Owen’s obituary.”
Dan got up and wandered over to the printer. He retrieved the sheet, then went to the board to attach the photo. Greg Collins didn’t ring any alarm bells. He was a good-looking man in his mid-thirties, with short dark hair and brown eyes.
He certainly didn’t seem like a killer, but then again, all the murderers Dan had met thus far hadn’t given off killer vibes at first glance.
Let’s see how I feel when I meet him.
Even better, shake hands with him.
The sooner, the better.
“So… we interview Greg and his mom.”
Gary arched his eyebrows. “Remind me again who is the detective in this room.”
Dan’s face grew warm. “Hey, I’m enthusiastic. That’s how you want me, isn’t it?”
“Well, it’soneof the ways I want you.” The husky edge to Gary’s voice sent delicious trickles of anticipation through Dan’s body.
Down, boy. This is work time.
