As Reilly stared into eyes that were so black, they appeared to have no iris at all, she felt an irrational bolt of terror: Every instinct in her body told her to run. Fast as she could go. As far away as she could get.
Except Kroner was the one she needed to be wary of - not some woman who was just doing her job.
"Ah ... why don't I come back," Reilly said.
"No." The nurse smiled again, revealing perfect white teeth. "He's ready for you."
"Still, I'll just wait until you're - "
"Stay. I'm happy to leave you two together."
Reilly frowned, thinking, What, like the pair of them were dating?
The nurse turned back to Kroner, uttered something in a quiet voice and stroked his hand in a way that made Reilly slightly nauseous. And then the woman came forward, growing more and more beautiful - until she was so resplendent, you had to wonder why she wasn't a model.
And yet Reilly just wanted to get the hell away from her. Which made no sense.
The nurse paused at the door and smiled once more. "Take your ti. TrusHe has everything you need."
And then she was gone.
Reilly blinked once. And again. Then she leaned out and looked around.
The guard glanced up from his seat. "You okay?"
The hallway was empty except for a crash cart, a rolling bin full of soiled linen, and a gurney with no one and nothing on it. Maybe the nurse had just gone into another room? Had to be it. There were units on either side of Kroner's.
"Yup, just fine."
Ducking back in, Reilly pulled it together, and focused on the patient, locking stares with a man who had killed at least a dozen young women across the country.
Bright eyes. That was her first thought. Smart, gleaming eyes, like you'd find on a hungry rat.
Second? He was so small. It was hard to believe he could lift a bag of groceries, much less overpower young, healthy women - but then again, he'd probably used drugs to help incapacitate his victims, cutting down on both the escape risk and the noise. At least initially.
Her final thought was ... Man, that was a lot of bandage. He was all but mummified, strips of gauze wrapped around his skull and neck, square pads taped to his cheeks and jaw. And yet even though he looked like a work in progress out of Frankenstein's lab, he was alert, and his skin color was positively radiant.
Unnaturally so, actually. Maybe he had a fever?
As she approached the bed, she held up her identification. "I'm Officer Reilly from the Caldwell Police Department. I'd like to ask you some questions. I understand you've waived your right to have counsel present."
"Would you like to sit down?" His voice was soft, the tone respectful. "I have a chair."
As if she were in his living room or something.
"Thank you." She pulled the hard plastic seat over toward the bedside, getting close but not too close. "I want to talk to you about the other evening, when you were attacked."
"A detective already did that. Yesterday."
"I know. But I'm following up."
"I told him everything I remembered."
"Well, would you mind repeating it for me?"
"Surely." He pushed himself up weakly and then looked over as if he wanted her to ask whether he needed help. When she didn't, he cleared his throat. "I was in the woods. Walking slowly. Through the woods ..."
She wasn't buying the acquiescence and accommodation for an instant. Someone like Kroner? No doubt he could turn on the poor-me for as long as it suited him to do so. That was how psychopaths like him worked. He could be normal, or certainly convince others, and maybe even himself for periods of time, that he was just like everyone else: a composite of good and bad - where the "bad" didn't go further than fudging on your taxes, or speeding on the highway, or maybe talking smack behind your mother-in-law's back.
Not killing young girls. Never that.
Masks never lasted, though.
"And you were headed where," she prompted.
His lids lowered. "You know where."
"Why don't you tell me."
"The Monroe Motel and Suites." There was a pause, his lips growing tight. "I wanted to go there. I had been robbed, you see."
"Your collection."
There was a long pause. "Yes." As he frowned, he covered up whatever was in his stare by looking down at his hands. "I was in the woods and something came at me. An animal. It was from out of nowhere. I tried to beat it off, but it was too strong... ."
How'd that feel, you bastard, she thought.
"There was a man there - he saw it happen. He can tell you. I picked him out of the photographs yesterday."
"What happened with the man?"
"He tried to help me." More with the frowning. "He called nine-one-one... . I don't remember ... much ... else - wait a minute." Those beady eyes got shrewd. "You were there. Weren't you."
"Is there anything you can tell me about the animal."
"You were there. You watched me get put into the ambulance."
"If we could stay with the animal - "
"And you were watching him, too." Kroner smiled, and the Mr. Nice-and-Normal pretense slipped a little, a strange calculation entering his eyes. "You were watching the man who'd been with me. Did you think he'd done it?"
"The animal. That's what I'm interested in."
"That's not alllllll you're interested in." The all had a singsong lilt to it. "It's okay, though. It's all right to want things."
"What kind of animal do you think it was?"
"A lion, a tiger, a bear - oh, my."
"This is not a joke, Mr. Kroner. We need to know whether we have a public safety issue."
Having studied interview techniques, she figured she'd give him an opening to be a hero. Sometimes suspects like him would play the game in hopes of ingratiating themselves, or trying to gain trust they would later enjoy violating.
Kroner's lids dropped low. "Oh, I think you've taken care of the public just fine. Haven't you."
Yeah, assuming he didn't flee this hospital, and the system slammed a prison door on him for the rest of his natural life. "It must have had fangs," she said.
"Yes ..." He touched his ruined face. "Fangs ... and big. Whatever it was - it was overpowering. I still don't know why I survived - but the man, he helped me. He's an old friend... ."
Reilly made sure that her expression didn't change in the slightest. "Old friend? You know him?"
"Like recognizes like."
As a chill rippled down her spine, Kroner lifted a hand up and stopped her from speaking. "Wait - I'm supposed to tell you something."
"And what is that?"
Those bandages on his face crumpled up as if he were grimacing, and that hand went to his head. "I'm supposed to tell you ..."
Considering he didn't know her at all, that was impossible. "Mr. Kroner - "
"She had lolond hair. Straight, long blond hair ..." He took a labored breath and batted at his temple as if he were in pain. "He's stuck on the hair ... that blond hair with the blood on it. She died in the tub - but that's not where her body is." Kroner's head went back and forth on the pillow. "Go to the quarry. She's there. In a cave - you've gotta go deep to get to her... ."
Reilly's heart started pounding. The scope of her interrogation was supposed to be limited to the night of the attack, but there was no way she wasn't following up on this one. And no reason why Kroner would know that Cecilia Barten was a case she was working on.
"Who are you talking about."
Kroner dropped his arm and suddenly his color took a turn toward the gray spectrum. "The one from the supermarket. I'm supposed to tell you this - she wants me to tell you. That's all I know - "
Abruptly, he started to shake, the trembling in his torso escalating until he jerked back into the pillows and his eyes rolled into his skull.
Reilly lunged forward and punched the call button and intercom. "We need help in here!"
From out of the seizure, Kroner shot a hold onto her wrist, those unholy eyes of his glowing. "Tell him she suffered... . He has to know ... she suffered... ."
Chapter 27
Back at HQ, in the evidence room, Veck went through everything there was of Kroner's collection, filing away in his mind snapshots of the objects. Unfortunately, there was nothing that he'd seen in the photographs at the Bartens' that matched any of the jewelry or other things.