The Perfect Husband - Lisa Gardner [112]
“Beckett.”
Marion arched a brow, stubbed out the remains of her cigarette, and consulted her pack for a second. “Found him already? Then why do you need me?”
“He found us. Last night.” He recapped events briefly, Tess filling in portions. Marion smoked, nodded, and smoked some more.
When they were done, she split her disapproving gaze between the two of them. Law enforcement never looked kindly on civilians taking matters into their own hands, and Marion was no exception.
“Do you know what happens when you hook up a psychopath to electrodes and tell him he’s going to receive a shock?” Marion asked.
“Not really.” J.T.’s tone was laconic. Tess could tell that he already had all defenses up.
Sensing the same, Marion turned her attention toward Tess. She said, “Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing. His heartbeat does not accelerate, he will not sweat. There is absolutely no response, no fear of pain. That is the nature of the psychopath—impenetrable, cold, and immune to fear.”
She said the words quietly, but Tess already knew what Marion was driving at.
Marion stubbed out her cigarette. “I pulled Beckett’s files as you requested, J.T. I read them myself on the plane. I’m only going to tell you this once—you’re in over your head.”
“Thanks. Now tell me what’s in the file.”
Her gaze remained on Tess. “Jim Beckett is a pure psychopath. You survived him once, now you’ve survived him twice. Be grateful for that, Tess. And let the police handle it—let the FBI handle it—because you won’t be so lucky the next time. Beckett isn’t someone who’s made a lot of mistakes.”
“I don’t plan on asking him to dance,” J.T. said curtly. “And I’m too old for lectures. Trust me just once, Marion. I know what I’m doing.”
Her tight lips said she doubted that.
J.T. gave up with a disgusted shake of his head. “Fine, we’ll skip the foreplay. Tell me where he is.”
Marion lit a fresh cigarette. “Oh, dear me.” She drew out the words, matching his mood inch for inch. “I meant to bring the magical map to his hiding place, but I must have left it on the plane. Whatever will we do?”
“Smart ass.”
“I learned it from you.”
“And I’m so damn proud.” His gaze narrowed, pinning her in place. “His friends and associates. You said he escaped with the help of some prison groupie.”
“Dead.”
“Dead?”
“So he killed the prison groupie. Then he broke into the safe house?”
“No, then he kidnapped Sergeant Wilcox and tortured and killed the man. Two kids found the body early today in the woods. Beckett had covered everything but his hands with rocks. Of course, wildlife had taken its toll on the man’s hands.”
“He likes to mutilate people’s hands,” Tess whispered.
Marion looked at her curiously. “It’s true. Quantico isn’t sure why. Maybe because hands are so personal. Or maybe simply because it makes the process of identifying the body that much more difficult.”
“Have they found Difford’s body?” J.T. quizzed.
“No. But they found his car. Twenty miles from Difford’s house, so Beckett probably had another vehicle parked there for the exchange. The trunk of Difford’s car was soaked through with blood. We’re pretty sure he’s dead. We’re not so sure why Jim has kept the body.”
“Sam?” Tess asked. She couldn’t keep the plea from her voice.
Marion looked away. “Nothing. I’m . . . I’m sorry.”
“He told me we’d see Difford again.”
“What?” Both Marion and Tess stared at J.T.
“Back in the bedroom he said, ‘When you see Difford again, you can ask him about it.’”
“So you think Difford’s still alive?” Marion prodded.
J.T. shook his head. “Too risky, particularly with Samantha around. But Big Bad Jim doesn’t do things randomly. He kept the body for a reason. We just have to get better at anticipating him. After all, he does such a nice job of anticipating us.”
“The pattern,” Tess muttered. She felt frozen and numb. They sat in such an ordinary banquet room in an ordinary restaurant in an ordinary town. And they spoke casually of murder, torture, and the best way to use a corpse. This was why Jim played games. Because more