Kiss Her Goodnight (Detectives Kane and Alton)

THIRTY-FOUR

The prison had its own particular bad smell, and it took all of Jenna’s concentration not to cover her nose with her hand. Summer had made it worse, and the stink of perspiration mixed with some foul odors seeping from the kitchen would make vomit smell good. She walked through the prison following behind Kane with Jo beside her and Carter watching their backs. The corridor divided the exercise yards and was the only way to get to the interview rooms. Being paraded in front of the inmates, all intent on spitting or hurling abuse at them, unsettled her. Although her shirt clung to her back from the humidity, just knowing that a few bars separated her from a mob intent on getting even sent shivers down her spine. She’d visited the jail before and this time used earplugs before entering the first dim corridors and moving through security. The last thing she needed was to hear threats from inmates and she hummed a tune to block out the noise. She required a clear head to conduct the interview with Bruno Vito and, ignoring the men pushed against the bars, kept her gaze on Kane’s back until they reached the interview room. In the anteroom outside, Kane and Carter could observe through a two-way mirror and hear everything being said inside as long as Jenna activated the intercom. The prison’s video equipment would be disabled, but Jo would be recording the session. She glanced at her. Jo appeared to be remarkably calm, as if she interviewed psychopaths on a daily basis.

“I’m not sure what mood the prisoner will be in, we’ll just have to play it by ear.” Jo, a picture of calm professionalism, smiled at her encouragingly.

Nerves clenched Jenna’s stomach, and she took a few steadying breaths as the prisoner entered the room and two guards restrained him using chains attached to the table and floor. She scanned her iPad for the questions they’d decided to ask Vito. With Jo as her wingman, the interview would go as planned. She turned to Kane. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“You’d better get your game face on. You’re sheet white.” Kane rubbed her arms and stared into her eyes. “You’ve done this before, and this guy is no threat to you. He’s agreed to remain in chains. Provided you keep in your seat, he won’t be able to reach you.”

“Trust me”—Carter looked at her with raised eyebrows—“if he as much as twitches in the wrong direction, we’re in there.”

Pasting a small smile on her face, Jenna followed Jo into the interview room. Before they sat down, she waited for Jo to introduce her to Bruno Vito. The prisoner staring up at her appeared to be anything but a deranged serial killer. He looked to be around fifty, with dark hair graying at the temples, but what surprised her was his eyes. Big brown soft eyes held an expression of compassion. His smile was welcoming, and knowing this killer’s MO chilled her to the bone.

“Sheriff Alton. I’ve heard so much about you.” Vito shook his head slowly. “My, my, how did a little thing like you take down so many serial killers?”

Understanding the charm a psychopath used to influence people, Jenna took the chair opposite him and Jo sat beside her. “I’m sure we could chat about me all day, but we only have a half an hour to speak to you, and you’re so much more interesting than me.”

“Not for me, but I’m willing to play your game.” He opened his hands as wide as the chains would allow. “Maybe next time you come visit me you can tell me some of the details of your cases.”

Taking the opening, Jenna smiled at him. “Funny you should ask, I do have a case that might be of interest to you. We believe he is targeting high-risk victims.” She scanned her iPad for images and finding a suitable crime scene photo of one of the victims turned it around to show him. “I believe this man is copying your style, but we can’t figure out his motive.”

A slow smile crossed Vito’s lips as he stared at the image. In an instant his eyes changed to a predator’s. Trying to act nonchalant, Jenna leaned back in her chair. She’d seen that look so many times before. “Do you have an opinion on this killer?”

“Are all his victims skinny like this one? Can you show me some more?” Vito dragged his eyes away from the image and looked at her. “I can’t give you an opinion on one picture.”

“Yeah, you can.” Jo cleared her throat. “They are all exactly the same, apart from the last one. The cause of death in the first two was strangulation. In the third, sharp force trauma to the heart.”

“The first two, he had plenty of time to create the image or fantasy of his desire, but the third one was rushed.” Vito sighed. “I’m guessing you know that already, so why are you really here?”

Jenna exchanged a glance with Jo. It would be better for Jo to question him. She had ways of getting information out of psychopaths and would feed him just enough data to make him believe he was taking control of the interview.

“We’re here to talk about you.” Jo’s gaze hadn’t left his face. “What made you kill prostitutes? What did the skewers symbolize? I need information if I’m to add you to my book as one of the most notorious serial killers in the last decade.”

“My wife was a social worker who had to deal with prostitutes on a regular basis. She wanted to help them, but mixing with them and bringing germs home to my kids annoyed me.” Vito stared at his hands. “She had a notion that those women were forced into spreading their legs, but I can tell you no force was ever involved. Offer them a few bucks and they’d do anything for you. If I waved a twenty at them, they’d climb into my truck, no questions asked.” He sighed. “So, I decided to help them find God in the fastest possible way, but before they met their maker, they had to suffer the consequences of their actions.” He lifted his head and smiled at them. “Once they were in the car, I’d knock them out and drive them to the place I’d chosen. I’d gag them and use zip ties to restrain them, and then I’d bring them around to enjoy the show. I’d explain to them why they had to die.” He shrugged. “It took some time hammering skewers into their heads. After a time, I discovered how to keep them alive until the last one, and by that time, they had repented their sins.” He flicked his gaze from one to the other as if gauging their reaction and a smug expression crossed his face. “That’s not too graphic for you is it, Sheriff?”

A chill ran down Jenna’s spine. He talked so casually, as if discussing doing his laundry rather than taking lives. She swallowed bile and kept her gaze steady. “Not at all. I’ve seen much worse. Your kills were clean in comparison.” She shrugged. “I know you selected prostitutes, but you didn’t seem to mind what race they were as long as they were between the ages of approximately twenty-two and twenty-six. How did you decide which ones to kill?”

“I didn’t choose them. They decided their own fate by offering me sex and climbing into my vehicle.” He snorted with obvious delight. “I didn’t have to twist their arm or anything. They made the decision, not me.”

“Many of the women you killed were never formally identified. Was that part of your plan as well?” Jo looked up from taking notes. “Out of the sixteen women you killed, only five people came forward to claim their bodies.”

“It was more than sixteen. I stopped counting at twenty-five, Agent Wells. You have to understand that these women are pests.” Vito linked his fingers together on the table. “When an exterminator goes into a house and kills the rats, do you see notices stapled to trees about missing pet rats? No, you don’t because nobody cares. Prostitutes are the same. They swarm over the streets spreading disease. I offered them salvation and I was doing the world a favor by taking them off the streets.”

Like Kane had said, psychopaths all convinced themselves they had a valid reason for murder. Jenna smothered a shudder of revulsion. Vito’s lack of empathy was disturbing, and yet from the information they had on the case, he was a family man. She had to ask the question. “Did you ever hurt your wife or kids?”

“Why would I? They didn’t prostitute themselves.” He snorted. “I did it to protect them from vermin.”

“How did your wife react when she found you’d been killing prostitutes and then going home to her bed?” Jo was making copious notes. “Does she or the children visit you in jail?”

“I don’t know how she felt.” Vito’s hands closed into fists. “I haven’t seen her since the day they arrested me. My kids would be grown by now and, no, they don’t drop by to chat.”

“Does it make you angry, as you did this to protect her?” Jo looked up at him a blank expression on her face.

“I would have liked the opportunity to explain to her, but she obviously didn’t want my side of the story.” He shrugged. “I’m not violent in here and others like me talk to each other. Everything we do has a reason. I know shrinks figure they know everything that goes on inside our heads, but you’re so wrong. We don’t kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it. There may be a few who murder just for the love of killing. The thrill killers are a different beast. They want instant gratification and are usually ruled by lust, drugs, or are just plain crazy. Those of us who take their time and plan everything, are rarely caught. They could be the person working beside you, a local cop, or even your doctor. We don’t fit into a type and usually the stranger-danger tag, or the dirty old man you warn your kids about, is a joke when it comes to most of us. People should me more afraid of the friendly person close by because, as sure as hell, that’s where one of us is lurking. My mistake was confessing to my wife, and she went to the cops.”

Claustrophobia gripped Jenna by the throat. She wanted to be as far away from this man as possible. Sucking in a breath, she met his gaze. “You say you’re not violent anymore, so would you kill again if released? Or did you murder the prostitutes just to prevent them infecting your family?”

“I said I wasn’t violent in here. Maybe this is because there seems to be a lack of prostitutes on death row.” Vito gave Jenna a look that went straight through her in a jolt of terror, and his smile was pure evil. “A psychopath can’t change how he thinks, honey, and those do-gooder eggheads who believe a psychopathic killer can be rehabilitated are the crazy ones.” He chuckled and leaned forward, staring at her as if waiting for a reaction. “Would I kill if I was released? Now let me think. Yeah, in a heartbeat, but I’d figure out another way of making women suffer. I wouldn’t hunt down prostitutes again—I’m over it. Maybe I’d target wives—you know, the newlyweds pushing shopping carts out to the parking lot at night. They’re so vulnerable to people like me.”

Jenna hadn’t as much as blinked. “Wives? Do you have a reason or is it any woman under thirty?”

“I’m locked up because I trusted my wife, but now I know from talking to the guys in here they can be as treacherous as a black swamp. They need their tongues cut out and nailed to a tree. So, I suggest you never let me out because next time you won’t be able to stop me.”

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” Jo stared at him expressionless. “If you claim to understand the psychopathic mind as well as you say, why not give me a profile on the man killing high-risk women and dumping them in Black Rock Falls—and a possible motive.”

“Sure.” Vito straightened in his chair. “You want my advice. Ha-ha, that’s amusing. Okay, shoot.”