The Gathering Dusk (Killer Instinct 0.5)(17)
“If you want to talk, I hope you know my door is always open to you.”
She did know that. She also knew she didn’t want to explore the darkness of her own feelings, not then. She understood killers.
Anyone had the potential to kill, under the right circumstances.
But liking the kill? That wasn’t something just anyone would experience. “Thank you, Cameron.”
He backed away. Samantha slid into her car and, a few moments later, she was driving away from the cul-de-sac.
She glanced in her rearview mirror.
Cameron stood in front of the burned house.
It’s just a house, on a street. Just a house...
*
CAMERON WATCHED SAMANTHA drive away. He had no doubt that she’d get a confession. After all, Samantha was very good at her job.
Very, very good.
But he was worried about her. This had been her first kill as an agent and the shooting had stirred up her memories. She couldn’t keep her feelings bottled up. She needed to talk and to share.
She needs to tell me all the dark details.
He’d always known that Samantha Dark was like her name. She wasn’t meant for a normal life, that fake life of smiles and perfect days. There was more inside of her, a twisting, snaking dark, an understanding, even a need to explore the tainted side of life.
She hunted killers because her mind understood their motivations far too well. But on this case, she’d crossed a line. Not just thinking like a killer but finally...
Becoming one.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SAMANTHA SCHOOLED HER features before she opened the interrogation room door. She went inside with her spine straight and her shoulders squared. Her heels clicked on the floor.
Blake was already seated at the little table, his poise relaxed. Across from him, Nina Miller sat, a faint smile curving her lips.
Samantha smiled back at her.
For an instant, she saw Nina’s eyelids flicker. But then a mask seemed to fall over the other woman’s face. “Why so late to this little party, agent?”
“Because I had to stop by George’s place and pick up a few things.”
Nina smirked. “I don’t see anything...”
Samantha laughed as she slid into the chair next to Blake. “Of course, you don’t. Evidence has to be logged. Analyzed. Studied ever so carefully.”
“Why would anyone want to study ashes?” Nina asked. “Seems like a waste of time to me.”
Blake leaned forward. “We have you on the arson, Ms. Miller. Arson and the attempted murder of two federal agents.”
Nina put her cuffed hands on the table. “How did I know you two were going to be there? I certainly didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” She blinked her eyes, appearing confused. “I mean... I just knew what a terrible, terrible man George Farris was...so I went to his house trying to banish that evil.” Her cuffed hands rose and she pressed her fingers to her temple. “I feel so...lost. I—I think something broke in me when I saw that news story.” Her hands fell back to the table and she turned her wrists toward her, staring at all the slash marks on her skin. “It reminded me of my past.”
The woman was good. Able to turn on and off her act at the blink of an eye. “You haven’t asked for a lawyer,” Samantha said.
Nina kept staring at her wrists. “I should, right? That’s what people do...but...” Her eyes squeezed shut. “My mind is so foggy.”
Blake glanced at Samantha, one dark brow raised. She could read his expression perfectly.
Utter bullshit. Neither of them were buying Nina’s act.
“Do you seriously think we don’t remember the things that you said to us at George’s house?” Samantha asked.
Nina looked up at her. “I don’t remember. Maybe...maybe I should talk to a shrink. Talk to someone who can understand how my mind just—splintered...” A tear leaked down her cheek.
She started this act as soon as I mentioned evidence. Before Samantha had said the one magic word—evidence—Nina had been smiling that smug little grin. Samantha leaned toward her. She patted the woman’s hand, as if in sympathy. “You are talking to someone who understands. My PhD is in psychology—I totally understand all about the fragile state of the human mind.”
The faint lines near Nina’s eyes tightened.
“So feel free to tell me everything,” Samantha murmured. “Because I sure am ready to listen.”
But Nina jerked her hand away from Samantha’s. “You won’t know my secrets.”
Words the woman had said before.
“I found your secrets,” Samantha said. “Buried beneath the ash. Did you really think someone like George wouldn’t have put those pictures and flash drives in a fireproof safe? I found them beneath the floor of the room that once held Missy Johnson.”
Nina paled.
“You knew he was keeping evidence, didn’t you? His souvenirs. I mean, even if the kills were your idea, he liked to keep the memories close.”
Nina shook her head.
Blake settled back in his chair, his gaze drifting between her and Nina.
“You like pain, right, Nina?” Samantha asked.
Nina jumped to her feet. “How dare you—”
“Some of your scars are new, some are old. The old scars tell me that you started the pain a very long time ago. Was something bad happening in your life? Did you make the first cuts?”