Blood Indulgence: a serial killer thriller (Phineas and Liam Book 3) Read online

  The constant driving back and forth was only one of the more annoying aspects of this case.

  The other was the presence of Slater himself.

  She didn’t like being near him, because he unsettled her. She felt out of sorts around him. Slater had a sort of awful charisma, and she couldn’t help but feel almost attracted to him. He was an attractive man, and that was simply a fact. She couldn’t help that. But knowing who and what he was, she thought it should drown the attraction out.

  Instead, she always felt a little nervous and giddy seeing him. She couldn’t help but preen at his attention a bit. She hated it, and it made her feel soiled, but she couldn’t shake it either.

  Now, Slater lifted his chin, sneering. “There’s no one out there who has the balls to try to hurt me.”

  “You should understand,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You like killing people. Would you have taken a plea bargain from one of your victims?”

  He snorted dismissively.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have killed so many people,” she said. “Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this position.”

  “Well, all of that is Destiny’s fault,” he said. “If it hadn’t been for her, I never would have killed anyone.”

  “Right,” said Dawson, who had heard this little song and dance before. “Listen, Slater, I came by as a courtesy. I wanted to give you this information face to face. But we’re at a dead end here. You won’t give me any information, and I have nothing to bargain with. So, unless you’ve decided that you want to help me catch Worth out of the goodness of your heart—”

  Another snort.

  “I didn’t think so.” She sighed.

  “Come on, there’s got to be something you can do, Haysle.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she said off-handedly, because she said it every time she came, and he never listened. Scolding him was a reflex. “And there’s nothing. They have no reason to offer you a plea bargain.”

  “Well, what about the taxpayers hard-earned money in prosecuting a big case like this?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe they want the attention.”

  “You’re useless to me?”

  “What if you gave me information for revenge against Worth? You wanted to kill her. This way, she’ll get locked up.”

  “She’ll never get the death penalty. She’s a woman. No, that’s not enough.”

  “Then I guess we’re done,” she said. “I honestly don’t know where else to go from here.” She stood up from the table. “I doubt I’ll be back.”

  “Wait,” he said. “That’s it? You’re leaving? You’re just going to walk out the door and never come back?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “What about Destiny?”

  “I’m at a dead end, Slater.”

  “What about… those dead girls, the ones in the freezer. Didn’t you say that they found out that one of them—the one they can’t identify—was pregnant?”

  Why had she shared that information with him? She was slipping, and he was getting inside her head, not the other way around. She really did want to close the door and walk away from him forever. She wanted this to be real, not a ploy.

  “So, that makes it even more heinous,” he said. “You have to bring Destiny to justice.” His eyes flashed and he squared his shoulders and there was something dazzlingly attractive about him for a moment.

  A dark current went through her. She grimaced, looking down at the floor. “Well, I’d love to. If you’d just tell me where she is, then I’ll get right on that.”

  He glared at her.

  “No?” she said. “Well, too bad, then. Nice knowing you, Slater.” She started for the door.

  “What about Liam?” he said. “Can you ask him to come see me again?”

  “No,” she said, continuing across the room. “He said he won’t, and I wouldn’t put him through that.”

  “Haysle, you forgot to tell me about what you ate.” His voice was reedy, now, thin.

  She put her hand on the doorknob, clenching her jaw.

  “Come on, please?” Now, there was naked need in his voice.

  Another current went through her, and she shuddered a bit. She turned around, facing him, leaning her back against the door. “I didn’t eat anything.”

  “You did. You stopped somewhere.” His voice dropped to a low, resonant register. “I can smell it on you. Chicken.”

  She swallowed.

  His gaze caught hers.

  “Yes,” she said finally. “Just a little container of popcorn chicken when I grabbed a coffee.”

  “Sauces?”

  “Just honey mustard.”

  He was breathless. “You drizzled it all over them?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He leaned forward. “How many sugars in the coffee?”

  She shook her head.

  “Haysle, how many did I tell you?”

  “Fuck you,” she said, glaring at him.

  “Get fries on the way home,” he said. “Stop and get fries and a Coke.”

  “Shut up.” She turned around, groping for the doorknob again.

  “You eat each fry alone, only one at a time, and lick the salt off your fingers in between, then a drink of Coke in between,” he called after her, his voice melodic. “Did you eat what I asked you to eat last time?”

  The doorknob wasn’t turning.

  “Haysle?” His voice was soothing. “Come on, you can tell me.”

  Of course it wasn’t turning, because she was locked in with this psycho.

  “Haysle!” Now, it was a command.

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Four sugars, are you happy?”

  “Yes,” he gasped, exultant.

  She banged on the door, turning back to it. “Ready!” she called.

  “Five next time you come to see me,” he said.

  She banged harder.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I think he’s going to break,” said Captain Moore. “According to the guys down at the prison, he’s agitated.”

  It was the following morning, and Dawson was in her captain’s office, clutching a coffee, still feeling a little ill from the huge order of French fries she’d eaten on the drive home from the prison last night.

  “You seem like the food stuff’s getting to you?” said Captain Moore.

  “No,” she said. “It’s an act. Just so he thinks it is. You know I don’t actually go and buy what he tells me to eat.”

  “Right,” said the captain, looking her over.

  “It was my idea to mess with him that way,” she said defensively. And she was defensive, because that was a lie. She had to lie to explain why she and Slater’s conversations (which were all captured on camera, of course) had started revolving around fast food, and why he was dictating menus for her to follow.

  She didn’t mean to do what he said.

  Sometimes, she even managed not to.

  But more often than not, the suggestion he made would burn into her brain on the drive home, and every exit with its signs of fast food restaurant offerings would taunt her, and it was easier just to give in and eat in than to fight it.

  Of course, it made her feel soiled, too.

  He was controlling her.

  Why did she let this man control her?

  What the fuck was wrong with her?

  “I know,” he said. “But you really seemed… I don’t know, do you want to look at the footage and see for yourself?”

  “I’m a good actress,” she said, daring him to contradict her.

  “You’re brilliant,” he said, giving her a smile.

  “If this doesn’t work, and he doesn’t break, do you think you could talk to the DA?”

  “You think I’ve got more pull?”

  “You’re the captain,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Well, I can’t say that I would shed a tear if he does get executed.”

  “I know,” she said. “I guess it’s just… this case… it
never ends.”

  He nodded. “You need a break from this?”

  She hesitated, but then she shook her head. “No, I want to see it through.” She had considered telling Moore about how Jackson had behaved to her, all his sexist transphobic bullshit. But she wasn’t one to tattle when it came down to it. It just wasn’t her way.

  “I know you do,” he said. “But if you need time away, there’s no shame in it.”

  “You think he’s going to break,” she said. “So, maybe he’ll be willing to give up Worth’s location in a day or two.”

  “We can hope,” said Moore.

  “Is that all you wanted to see me about?” she said. “Just to say you’re hopeful?”

  “Well, and to check in with you.”

  “I’m not going to fall apart, captain.” It came out sharply.

  He chuckled. “Don’t get that chip on your shoulder, Dawson. I would say the same thing if it was a male officer doing this. And whatever you’re doing with Slater, it’s got to be wearing on you. I just watch the damned things and I feel like taking a cold shower afterward. I can’t imagine how you feel.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I can handle it.”

  “Okay,” he said. “As long as you’re good, I’m good.”

  “I’m good,” she said, giving him a tight-lipped smile.

  LIAM Emerson stretched at his computer. He was in the middle of working on editing together a tricky bit of audio over a stretch of video clips, and his mouse hand was cramping up. He did a few stretches that he’d researched online for repetitive stress injury. They sometimes helped a little bit, but they were no miracle cure.

  His message app pinged on the computer, and he switched over to that window.

  It was a message from his stepdaughter, Madison, who was thirteen years old and in seventh grade. I think we should go to that Ethiopian place next week.

  He typed back, Why aren’t you at school?

  He and Madison had been working on a project together lately. She was a budding restaurant critic, and so he took her out to various restaurants to eat. Then she’d write something up and post it on her blog. He had helped her set up some ads and optimize her SEO in order to monetize it. She also had a Patreon to amass subscribers. He was good at that kind of stuff from his YouTube career, and it was a fun project for him and Madison to do together.

  Thus far, she wasn’t making enough money to pay for the restaurant bills—not that he was making her cover them—but it was a good start and they were having fun, which was all that counted.

  I am. We went to the computer lab today to do research for our research project.

  So, you should be researching?

  A simple yes or no, Liam, and we’d be done.

  He chuckled. Fine, Ethiopian, sure.

  Can we go on Thursday?

  Do your schoolwork, Madison.

  His phone rang. He picked it up and saw that it was Haysle Dawson. Wow, so he hadn’t talked to her in months. He made a face, grimly wondering if something bad had happened.

  He answered the phone. “If you tell me he’s escaped again, I’m going to lose my mind.”

  “Nothing like that,” said Dawson.

  “He’s still locked up?”

  “Locked up tight,” she said.

  He sighed, relief flooding his limbs. “So, you’re going to ask me to go see him again? I guess he’s still asking for me?”

  “I would never ask you to go back into the same room as that man. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”

  “But you want something?”

  “You didn’t even give me a chance to say hello,” she said.

  “Sorry.” He got up from his chair and wandered through the living room in his apartment to his kitchen. There was a pot of coffee keeping warm on the burner in the coffee maker. He poured it into a mug. “Hello, Haysle.”

  “Hello, Liam,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

  Her deep voice. Liam couldn’t help but like that voice of hers. He found her practically irresistible, the way she seemed to skirt the edge of masculinity and femininity, encompassing neither and both all at once. He’d never say that to her. She didn’t want to seem masculine, and she wouldn’t thank him for pointing that out, he didn’t think. “You going to ask me out on a date?”

  She laughed. “Would you say yes if I was?”

  “I guess that means you’re not. Damn it.” He laughed.

  “When I close this case?” she said. “Then maybe I will ask you out.”

  “Looking forward to it,” he said lightly.

  “I want to know if you want to go over everything you know about Destiny Worth again,” she said.

  “What? I’ve told you everything I know.”

  “I know you have, but…” She sighed. “I need this case over.”

  He furrowed his brow, pausing on his way to the refrigerator for cream for his coffee. “Hey, are you all right?”

  “Don’t I sound all right?” Now, she was light again.

  He opened the door to the fridge and got out the creamer. He poured some in his coffee. “Just then, you didn’t.”

  “He’s…” She paused. “You know how he is.”

  “I do,” he said quietly.

  And then neither of them spoke.

  He stirred his coffee with a spoon.

  “She sent me another email,” said Dawson.

  “Destiny did?”

  “She asked me if I was any closer to getting her boys together,” said Dawson.

  “You are asking me to go see him.”

  “I’m not,” she said. “I promise.”

  He didn’t say anything. He lifted the coffee to his mouth and took a sip.

  “I’m thinking about responding to her,” said Dawson. “But what should I say? How do you think she’d react to taunting?”

  “How would you taunt her?”

  “Maybe tell her she’s not in my jurisdiction, not my problem, and that Slater is locked up, and that no one thinks of her in Virginia, least of all you or Slater.”

  “Well… I mean, that would probably piss her off,” he said.

  “Would it be stupid to piss her off?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe. Probably.”

  “On the other hand, she hasn’t done anything in six months except email me a few times. So, maybe I need to piss her off.”

  He contemplated his coffee. “Listen, Haysle, you know I don’t really want to be part of—”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have called.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Sometimes, I do miss it. It was exciting, and I felt as though I was part of something. But I don’t miss the stress and the nightmares, you know?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m sorry to bother you, Liam. I’m going to hang up now. You take care.”

  “You too,” he said. “And I mean it, when you’re done with this case, we should…” He laughed a little. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be a date, but we should get together.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Definitely.”

  AFTER Dawson hung up with Liam, she composed a message to Destiny Worth, saying basically what she’d said to Liam, about how Worth wasn’t her jurisdiction or her problem and that everyone had moved on.

  She didn’t send it.

  She gazed at it on the screen and let her mouse hover over the send button.

  But then she let go of the mouse and got up from her cubicle. She stalked through the station to the elevator and took that down to the evidence locker. There, she checked out the hard drive that stored Phineas Slater’s videos of the people he’d murdered.

  She brought that up and hooked it up to her computer.

  She went through the files and brought one up. She plugged in a set of headphones so that no one else would hear what she was watching.

  The image of a blond woman filled the screen. She was pretty and young, wearing a low cut shirt. She had freckles on her nose.


  She was sitting on a concrete floor with a mess of French fries and ketchup spread out on a fast food wrapper in front of her.

  “Can I eat now?” she said, looking up.

  The back of Slater’s head came into the frame. He settled down behind her, sitting cross legged. “Sure.”

  “I thought you wanted to watch.” She was bending around to look at him. Her voice was sultry.

  “I can see,” said Slater, amused.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Talk to me a little bit about it,” he said. “Answer my questions if I ask.” His voice was loose and affected.

  Dawson shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Something about his stupid voice and about the way the girl was acting was making her feel… aroused. It was dumb. It was food, for fuck’s sake, and she knew what was about to happen.

  “It’s your dime, baby,” said the woman.

  “Oh, I asked you not to do that,” said Slater, reaching out to rub her shoulder.

  “Sorry,” she said. “You’re right. I’m not a whore, and you’re not paying me. This is a total girlfriend experience right here, you buying me grease and watching me eat it in… whatever this is? It’s like a bunker. Has anyone ever told you you’re a little weird?”

  “Good weird?” said Slater, giving her a puppy dog eyes.

  She snorted. “You’re way too pretty to pay, baby.”

  “Come on, Lyla, you said you’d pretend,” he said, putting just a touch of woundedness into his tone. “Please?”

  “You really are very pretty.” Lyla’s voice was affected too. She was attracted to him too. He was pretty.

  “Eat some fries,” he said, his voice going rough.

  “Okay.” Her voice had gotten a little breathy. She picked up three and stuffed them in her mouth. She chewed.

  He watched her. He brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind one of her ears. He leaned up against her, his back against her front.

  Dawson shifted again. Damn this. Damn him.

  Slater reached around and brushed his thumb over Lyla’s lips. “Good?” he murmured.