The 7th Victim - Alan Jacobson [129]
“So Singletary’s leaked the story,” Del Monaco said. “For what, another fifteen minutes of fame? He’ll be getting that when he’s executed.”
“Yeah, but this is good press. Executions tend to be . . . somewhat negative,” Vail said with a hint of sarcasm.
Del Monaco, Bledsoe, and Vail met an off-duty correctional officer, who transported them to the prison. They arrived at three o’clock, the way to the meeting being paved by the prisoner himself, who declined legal representation. They checked their guns and were transported to the maximum security building by bus.
Half an hour later, they were in the eight-by-ten interview room, where a small metal table sat bolted to the floor. There were two seats—one for the prisoner and one for his visitors. Vail took the chair; she wanted the center stage to ask the questions, while Del Monaco stood in the background, arms folded across his chest, content to melt into the wall and analyze Singletary’s facial and body language. Bledsoe was behind a large one-way mirror in an adjacent room.
Singletary was led in by two uniformed guards. The prisoner, a slight man with close-cropped pepper hair and pleasing facial features, was shackled at the ankles and wrists. His face was a pale white, the mark of someone who had spent time in solitary confinement—or who had been restricted to his cell for bad behavior. Yet despite the dehumanizing restraints, Singletary’s shoulders and hips moved with a noticeable swagger. The agents watched as the guards unshackled Singletary’s hands and refastened the handcuffs to a steel bar mounted at the center of the fixed metal table.
“All yours, ma’am,” the guard said to Vail. “We’ll be watching. You get into trouble, just holler.”
Vail thanked the men but wondered why, if she encountered trouble with the prisoner, she would need to holler if they were observing. She pushed the thought from her mind and focused on the man in front of her. “Mr. Singletary, I’m Special Agent Karen Vail, this is Agent Frank Del Monaco.” Singletary had already been told who he would be meeting with, but it was a good way to break the ice.
Del Monaco nodded with disinterest, playing his presence low key, as if he did not want to be there. He and Vail had discussed their strategy in detail on the plane.
“We were told you received a letter yesterday. From someone who claims to be the Dead Eyes killer.”
“That’s right.” Singletary’s voice was smooth, his smile bright and white.
“The letter’s at our lab right now, being analyzed.”
“Waste of taxpayer dollars. I can tell you it’s authentic.”
“How’s that?” Vail pulled a copy of the letter from her pocket and unfolded it. “What makes you so sure it’s from Dead Eyes?”
“See the sentence ‘Evil rides the ocean and the sky turns all the rivers gold’? He made that up a long time ago. It became kind of a saying for us.”
“You know the Dead Eyes killer?”
“I just said that, didn’t I? Man, I thought you people were smart.”
Vail felt like reaching across the table and slapping the guy but kept her face neutral. “Who is he?”
Singletary burst out laughing. A smoker’s cough quickly overwhelmed him, and Vail had to turn away to avoid the explosion of germs from the man’s uncovered mouth. “You expect me to just give you the guy’s name?”
“I thought you might, yes.”
“Then you’re stupider than I thought you were. But you are a fine lookin’ thing,” he said, then stuck his tongue out and waved it like a lizard’s. “I got two demands. One is, I only talk to Thomas Underwood. Second, I want my death sentence commuted, to life in prison.”
Now it was Vail’s turn to laugh. She did so boisterously, purposely to annoy the man who thought he held all the cards. It was his nature to try to gain the upper hand, to seek control and power. She was not going to give it to him. “Thomas Underwood isn’t with the Bureau anymore. I doubt he’d want to waste any more of his time talking