The Mermaid Murders (The Art of Murder 1)

“He wasn’t a lifeguard?”

“No.”

“He wasn’t involved in the park theater productions?”

“No.” God no, Boxner would have said at the very idea.

“Okay. So basically you and Honey were inseparable, and Boxner felt thwarted and jealous.”

“Basically, yes. I would guess.”

“Hm. Maybe.” Kennedy seemed to be thinking aloud. “Maybe if he saw you as an obstacle to Honey’s affections.”

“No,” Jason said. “He knew I was not an obstacle. He knew before I did. And partly he knew because…” It was one thing to privately reflect on the old hurts and humiliations. To have to say it aloud was more painful than Jason had expected.

Kennedy sounded uncharacteristically startled. “God almighty.” He threw Jason a quick look, although it was unlikely he could see much in the weird light of the dashboard. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“As a heart attack. Which is about how healthy that was.”

Kennedy made a terse sound that could have been humor.

“So to add to Boxner’s frustrations, he had to worry about the fact he was attracting the wrong kind of interest, which is always going to be an issue for an insecure male. Especially an adolescent. Yeah, it fits. It makes sense. What was Boxner’s relationship to the second victim, Theresa Nolan?”

“I have no idea.” Jason tried to read Kennedy’s face in the dim light. “I didn’t know Theresa. You’re not thinking Boxner—”

“I think Martin Pink is—was—the Huntsman. But it’s our job to keep an open mind.”

Jason had to admire that level of open-mindedness. Kennedy must have balls o

f steel if he could contemplate with equanimity having jailed the wrong man ten years earlier. If that was the case, it would be the second and perhaps mortal blow to his career.

Abruptly, Kennedy shifted into gear, and they pulled out of the parking lot.

He said thoughtfully, “I think maybe it’s time to pay an old friend a visit.”

“What old friend?” Jason was thinking uncomfortably of Honey’s family. He had made no effort to see her parents since his arrival in Kingsfield, and he really should at least stop by. See how they were. He had spent an awful lot of time under the Corrigans’ roof and at their dining table.

So it was with shock he heard Kennedy say, “I think it’s time for a field trip to MCI Cedar Junction. I think we need to talk to Martin Pink. Let’s have a chat with the Huntsman.”

Chapter Ten

Though both manacled and shackled, the bald and bearded man seated at the stainless-steel table in the prison interrogation room looked like a real and present danger. Pink had bulked up during his years of incarceration. He was not tall, but he was all muscle, and despite the chains and cuffs, he exuded a confidence that was frankly disturbing given how much time he had spent in solitary confinement.

What really disturbed Jason was how much he wanted to walk into that room and bash Pink’s head against the table until his brains poured out. He had not expected such a violent reaction to seeing him again. Not expected to feel this level of hatred. He despised violence. He believed he was smarter than that, better than that. A civilized man. After seeing Martin Pink in the flesh again—he knew just how thin the veneer of civilization was.

He let out a slow, calming breath and nodded. The prison guard opened the heavy steel door, and Jason walked into the eight-by-ten well-insulated room.

Pink was smirking. “Long time no se—” He broke off. His smirk vanished. “Who the hell are you?”

“Special Agent West.” Jason took the chair across the table from Pink.

“Where’s Kennedy?”

Fair question. Kennedy was talking to the prison shrink. For reasons known only to himself, he had decided Jason would be the one to interview Pink. At least, that was the story. Maybe he was on the other side of all that surveillance equipment positioned out of Pink’s line of vision, waiting to see some sign Jason actually was, as Boxner had suggested, Pink’s disciple.

As ludicrous as the thought was, it bothered Jason. He forced himself to concentrate on Pink, unemotionally taking in the shaved head and silver goatee. Pale, dead eyes and a cupid’s bow of a mouth. At least Pink had received proper dental care in prison.

Jason said, “I work with Senior Special Agent Kennedy.”