“Why would I want to do that?”

“For the reasons I spelled out.”

“Ford’s mushrooming ego? I can’t even say that with a straight face.” He stood up. “I’m meeting her downstairs. Stay put until Locke comes for you.”

“Christ.” Drex turned his back, lowered his head, massaged his nape. “This is a nightmare.” Coming back around quickly, he said, “Okay, let this Kelly Whatever record the interview, but ask her to hold it until the late news tonight.”

“That’s not the way a news operation operates.”

As he headed toward the door, Drex caught him by the arm and whipped him around. “I beg you to reconsider.”

“Let go of me.” He tried to break free of Drex’s grasp, but Drex held on. “Twenty-four hours.”

“Let go, or I’ll have you held on an assault charge.”

“Charge me with whatever the fuck you want,” Drex shouted. “I’ll face the judge and plead guilty to anything you throw at me. Tomorrow. But I need today.”

Rudkowski worked his arm free. “Your plans for today are an arraignment.” He turned and opened the door.

Drex charged after him, bumping into Locke, who was on the other side of the threshold. He caught Drex in a bear hug, which Drex tried to escape with the fury of a madman. Locke ordered him to calm down. Drex only struggled harder to go after Rudkowski.

When Rudkowski reached the corner of an intersecting hallway, he glanced over his shoulder and shot Drex a triumphant grin.

“Don’t do it, Bill!”

Rudkowski went out of sight around the corner.

Drex’s head dropped forward. “The bastard’s really going to do it.”

The detective backed him against the wall and propped him there, keeping his hands on his shoulders. “If I release you, are you going to do something crazy?”

Drex shook his bowed head.

Gradually Locke eased his hold, then lowered his hands. “I take it you got nowhere.”

“He wouldn’t budge.”

“Did you really expect him to?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t go better for you.”

Drex raised his head, winked, and flashed a grin. “It went perfect.”

Chapter 37

Jasper had learned on the morning news the name of Drex Easton’s buddy whom he’d assaulted. Gifford Lewis was in guarded condition, but expected to survive the seemingly random and unwarranted attack.

“It was neither random nor unwarranted,” Jasper argued with the motel room TV.

Lewis was a ten-second mention. Much more to-do was made of the woman who’d been fatally attacked without any apparent motive. The reporter droned on and on about what a wonderful person Sara Barker had been. There were heartrending pictures of her surrounded by her children and husband, all smiling sunnily.

Jasper noted that a victim of unprovoked violence was never remembered as being a wretched reprobate, a cheat and liar, a subhuman leech on society whom the world was well rid of. They were always eulogized as self-sacrificing saints.

“Call me cynical.”

After watching the broadcasts, he spent the remainder of the morning making preparations to leave Charleston. But as noon approached, he grew eager to hear more about the havoc he’d wrought.

He tuned in just as the news was coming on the air. One of the anchors said, “Our own Kelly Conroe is coming to us live with an interview with a lead investigator. She files this exclusive report. Kelly, what’s the latest?”

The blond reporter’s mouth was a slash of carmine lipstick, which, in Jasper’s opinion, was an unpleasing distraction.

“I’m here with FBI Special Agent William Rudkowski, who is assisting local authorities with their investigation into the murder of Elaine Conner, whose body washed ashore the night before last.”

The camera shot widened to include a man who appeared to be in his late fifties, nothing remarkable about his appearance, although his stance indicated the bellicose attitude of a man who thought highly of himself, probably as overcompensation for insecurities and shortcomings.

The reporter asked him to explain the FBI’s involvement.

“The Conner case captured my attention because circumstances surrounding it bear a striking resemblance to a two-year-old homicide case in Key West, Florida. We’re examining the similarities. If it’s determined that the two cases are related, it will represent a major breakthrough and move us closer to identifying and apprehending a serial perpetrator, to whom the disappearances of at least nine women are attributed.”

The reporter asked him to expand on what the similarities between the cases were, and asked if any new evidence had been discovered. “I can’t comment on an ongoing investigation,” he said. “At this time, all I’ll say is that this individual is under the delusion that he’s outsmarted us. He hasn’t. We’re smarter. He has left us a distinct signature. He’s tripped up, and doesn’t even realize it.”

The claim didn’t rattle Jasper in the least. It was poppycock. If there had been any evidence connecting him to Marian Harris, Drex’s wannabe-writer charade would have been unnecessary. Agents would have stormed Jasper’s house and placed him under arrest.

Having heard enough of the blather, he was about to switch off the TV when the reporter said, “You’ve taken a man into custody this morning. Drex Easton, who holds a doctorate in criminal psychology. What’s his connection to these cases, and what charges is he facing?”

Drex had a doctorate? He was in custody?

One of the anchors cut to the heart of the matter. “He’s said to have become recently acquainted with Elaine Conner, Jasper Ford, and Ford’s wife, Talia Shafer. Is he considered a suspect in Conner’s murder?”

“No,” the agent replied. “But Easton has, over the course of many years, hindered other FBI investigations by interfering without authority. From the night Ford went missing and Mrs. Conner was killed, Easton has prevented Ford’s wife from cooperating with the investigation. He was arrested this morning. Together they were brought in for questioning. He’s being arraigned this afternoon, facing state charges of tampering with evidence and obstruction of justice. Similar federal charges are pending.”

It appeared to Jasper that the agent wished to say more. Jasper wanted to hear more, but his curiosity went ungratified. The reporter thanked the FBI agent and turned to face the camera, which zoomed in on her.

“Easton’s involvement with the key parties, which has led to his arrest, is a surprising twist in a case that already has authorities baffled.”

“Kelly, what’s the status of the search for Mr. Ford?” asked one of the anchors.

“Ongoing. However, there has been a development.” She went on to relate that fishermen had reeled in one of his shoes. “It’s looking more and more likely that he drowned. I haven’t received confirmation, but the word is that the search for him will be suspended after today.”

She wrapped up, and they returned to the studio. Jasper muted the television but stared at the miming heads for a full minute, trying to assimilate the shocking news that Drex Easton was to be arraigned later today.