“I remember saying those exact words to you all those years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Is that what you want to hear?”
“A little too late for apologies, I’m afraid. Sleep tight. You’ll be with your husband soon.”
Valerie groaned. Henry was the last person in the world she wanted to see again. She licked her dry lips. Her breathing grew shallow. She felt nauseated.
So this was what it felt like to die. She’d always wondered what thoughts or life events might flash before her in those last moments.
But there was nothing.
No bright light in the distance calling to her. Only blackness.
No thoughts or consciousness. No kind faces smiling upon her as she took her last breath.
Just a big gaping hole of nothingness.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The drive to the prison was spent listening to Lexi talk on the phone about other stories she was working on, including one about a domestic murder and the confession made by the wife on social media. If she had not been on the phone, Sawyer might have told her that she’d called Brad Vicente’s sister after their meeting this morning. The woman had nothing good to say about her brother—a few choice words before hanging up—but it was something she might be able to use to get Brad Vicente talking.
Once they arrived, everything went quickly. After signing in, they were ushered down a long hallway. Surrounded by stark-white plaster walls and sanded cement floors, Sawyer stiffened at the sounds of alarms, yelling, and someone pounding on the wall.
Inside a ten-by-ten, windowless room, Brad Vicente sat at a rectangular metal table. He wore a state-issued T-shirt and jumper and no restraints.
Lexi pulled out a chair across from Vicente and took a seat. Sawyer did the same. Armed with paper and pen, Sawyer glanced at the tall security guard standing off to the side. His arms were crossed, and his gun holster was visible. His presence provided comfort, and yet the jittery feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t leave her.
She’d never interviewed a prisoner before. First time for everything. Sawyer looked across the table at Brad Vicente and said, “I’d like to start by thanking you for allowing us to talk to you.”
Brad Vicente looked like a regular guy, leaning toward handsome. His head had been shaved, leaving an outline of dark shadows where his hair had once been. His jaw, on the other hand, was bristling with new growth. His smile was disconcerting. The twinkling eyes and flash of straight teeth made her feel like prey. Or maybe nerves were simply getting the best of her. Forgetting her question, she looked back at her notes.
“I’ve been in business for many years,” he said as she flipped a page. “One of the things I learned early on was that getting right to the point of the matter is usually the best way to go.”
He was right. Sawyer raised her gaze to meet his. “Do you have any idea who cut off your penis?”
He smiled.
She waited.
His smile turned sour. “Don’t you think I would have told the world who did this to me if I had a name?”
“You were locked in your house with five women for days. You didn’t recognize any of their faces?”
“I was born a ladies’ man. They flock to me like bees to honey. I’ve been with a lot of women.” He laughed. “I was also blindfolded.”
“How many women have you been with?”
Lexi appeared to shift uncomfortably in her seat.
Brad Vicente lifted a shoulder. “Too many to count.”
“Whoever took a knife to you,” Sawyer said, “must have been angry. These women tied you up and then cut you. That makes what happened to you seem very personal. Don’t you think?”
“Women are overly sensitive. Maybe one of them didn’t like something I said in passing. Who knows? It’s not easy being a single man in today’s world. You have to buy a woman dinner and drinks just to get an opportunity to try and get to know them. Because of who I am, I’m able to get reservations at the best restaurants. Maybe I didn’t tell my date at the Blue Fox that she was hot enough. If you want to get anywhere with a woman, you have to dish out the compliments. It’s ridiculous.”
“Is that where you took your dates? The Blue Fox?”
He fidgeted in his seat, making Sawyer wonder if the question had made him nervous.
“No,” he said. “I don’t remember.”
It was clear by his sudden difficulty with keeping eye contact and the way his lips pursed that he was lying. She wanted to keep him talking, though, so she made a mental note to go to the Blue Fox and find out if anyone recognized his name or picture. “Do you ever go out with a woman more than once?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you usually have sex on the first date?”
Lexi coughed into a fisted hand.
Sawyer ignored her.
“Yes,” he said. “If the woman passes my tests, then we usually have sex. Why go on a date otherwise?”
“What sort of tests does she need to pass?”
He blew air out of the side of his mouth. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
“Most importantly, she needs to be good looking. When we finally meet up, she better look like her picture.”
“Her picture?”
“Yes. The one she posted on the dating app. A lot of women post pictures from years earlier when their skin was as plump and firm as their breasts.”
Sawyer glanced at Lexi, but she was looking down, making notes. “So if your date looks like her picture, she passes the test? That’s it?”
“Not necessarily. If she’s a bitch, then it’s a no-go. Bossy or too abrupt would be a game changer.”
“Meaning you wouldn’t ask her to your place?”
“Exactly.”
“What dating app did you use?”
“Zoosk. Match. Tinder. Whatever’s out there.”
Sawyer jotted the names down. “I’ve read reports from two women who went out with you. They both had similar stories. You asked them to your house for a nightcap. They agreed. Both women began to feel woozy, as if they’d been drugged. As soon as they walked into your house, you locked the door and forced yourself on them, pushing one woman against the wall so hard she suffered a concussion.”
“Liars.” He jabbed a forefinger into the tabletop. “If they made it through dinner and came to my house, they wanted a piece of me. Every single one of them.”
He was upset, off balance, and she wanted to keep it that way. “Do you get along with your mother?”
His face reddened.
“I talked to your sister,” Sawyer said, on a roll now. “She said you’ve always been an angry man, distrusting and—”
He slapped both palms flat on the table in front of him. “I was framed. Her name was Li. And yes, we were at the Blue Fox. She was beautiful. Exotic. Long blonde hair. Find her fucking ass and take her and her friends down.” He stood. “This little party is over.”
“Why?”
“Because I was told this session would give me a chance to tell the world that I’ve been wrongly accused.”
“A jury found you guilty,” Sawyer stated matter-of-factly. “They have videos showing you raping multiple women.”