Shattered (LOST #3)(73)

He was wearing a garish orange prison jumpsuit. His hands were shackled and his feet were in ankle cuffs. He shuffled forward, moving slowly, and when he saw Sarah, a wide smile lit his face.

Prison should have changed him. He should have lost weight. Lost his hair. Grown pale and skeletal. He should have aged.

But . . . he hadn’t changed.

His hair was still a rich, thick black. His skin was still golden. His body was fit, probably because he spent hours working out in his cell. Her father had always been handsome—that had been part of his lure. People have such a hard time seeing evil when it’s wrapped in a nice package.

Those had been his words.

“Sweetheart, it’s been too long.” He ignored the guards who shadowed his movements as he came toward the table. “You need to come and see your father more often.”

He was chiding her, as if she were just a daughter who hadn’t visited her dear old dad often enough. Like any father would say to his daughter. But he wasn’t any father. And she sure wasn’t just any daughter.

“Hello, Dad,” Sarah said softly. She didn’t let emotion enter her voice. With him, she couldn’t.

His smile stretched a little more.

The guards eased him into the seat across from her, and Sarah watched silently as they secured his restraints. Then the guards stepped back. They wouldn’t leave the room, that wasn’t a possibility, not with Murphy the Monster. Sure, he might look all well-behaved right then, but he could turn in an instant. Could, and had in the past. After one of her earlier visits, he’d gotten particularly violent. She’d learned that a guard had been hospitalized for three weeks after that encounter.

Everyone took extra care now. Everyone.

“And who is this, sweetheart?” Her father asked as his gaze slid to Jax. Her father’s stare was even darker than Sarah’s own. That stare of his was assessing as it slid over Jax. Jax just looked back? his face stoic. His body seemingly relaxed. “Well, well . . .” her father murmured. “Isn’t this interesting.” But his face . . . hardened . . . as he looked at Jax. A flash of what could have been anger appeared in his eyes. “Very interesting.”

It was then that Sarah realized something was wrong. The way her father looked at Jax . . . He looks at him as if he knows Jax.

But that wasn’t possible, was it?

Sarah kept her chin up and her spine straight as she faced her father. “How have you been?” An innocent question. Amiable. She knew that was the way he liked to start things. As if they were just getting together for a friendly chat. But the truth was that she’d come back to him in the past because she’d tried to learn more about his crimes. About his victims. And each time she visited, he usually revealed one more missing victim to her.

Will the bodies ever stop piling up?

“I can’t complain. These years I’ve spent locked away have passed so fast. Almost like a blink.” He inclined his head toward her even as that faint smile still curled his lips. “I have a new lawyer. He thinks that maybe I wasn’t given the fairest trial before. He’s looking for new evidence. Wants me to talk to some shrink he knows.”

She’d heard nothing about a new lawyer. Sarah didn’t let her expression change even as fear spread within her.

“But while I’ve been in prison, I missed so much. So many years with you.” He leaned forward. “I’ve served my time. Maybe it’s my turn to be free again.”

Sarah shook her head. “The people you killed don’t get to be free.” Again, no emotion was there. She couldn’t allow emotion with him. It would be too dangerous.

“Oh, Sarah . . .” His eyes actually twinkled then. As if she were a funny child who’d just amused him. “Those people deserved exactly what they got. You know that. The world is a better place without them in it.”

Her father’s twisted logic. He’d always claimed that he was justified in his kills.

Justified in killing young Ryan Klein because the boy had hurt Sarah. He’d made fun of her. The boy was a bully, obviously escalating in his wicked actions. If he hadn’t been stopped . . .

“There’s no telling what they would have done,” her father murmured, “if I hadn’t intervened.”

Her gaze fell to the table. To his cuffed hands. “You didn’t intervene. You killed. There’s a huge difference.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” His voice was warm. “Are you so sure, Sarah?”

She looked up at him. She was conscious of Jax moving slightly in his chair, edging toward her. No, Jax, no! Her father was so good at reading body language. The man was actually a genius, not that most people realized it. He would have made for a fantastic psychiatrist himself, provided he hadn’t been so ass-crazy.

“I’m absolutely certain.”

Her father’s lips thinned. “I can tell when you lie. You know that.”

Enough of his small talk. It was wearing far too thin on her nerves. “I came today because someone is trying to kill me.”

Surprise flickered on his face. Surprise, then rage. “Who?” It was a low, lethal whisper.

Sarah swallowed. “I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”

He shot to his feet. His restraints groaned and stretched with his movements. “You think I sent someone after you? Sarah, no! Never! You are mine. My flesh and blood and I would protect you . . . always.” His eyes glittered down at her. “Always.”