Page 58 of So Twisted

But slowly, she realized that there must be a reason for it. West had always been right. People were weak. They were foolish. They were parasites. They relied on the help of other weak, foolish parasites to protect them, and they deserved to die until the species weeded out the weaklings and left the fittest tosurvive. This was evolution’s way of blessing Lillian’s part in the quest to return the world to the way it should be.

With the haze cleared, she was simply excited. She had the biggest grin on her face when she left her house, her tools in her backpack. She boarded the bus and returned to the stop where she had seen the truck park.

And fate intervened again. The truck was there. Monroe was home. Lillian was going to kill him tonight.

She giggled and reminded herself that if this was going to work, she needed to be stealthy. Grant Monroe had been a SAC for close to twenty years, but he might still have some instincts left from his time in the field. Lillian had to be careful, or this could all blow up in her face.

But she was confident she would succeed. Fate willed it.

She walked down the street behind Grant Monroe’s house and sneaked into the backyard. For a moment, she was terrified that he might have a dog. That would ruin everything.

But fate intervened yet again. The yard contained no living things save for a small koi pond.

A koi pond and an old Toyota pickup. What a study in contradictions Monroe was.

She pulled her first tool from her backpack. This one was a five-pound chunk of diorite, an intrusive igneous rock formed by slow underground cooling of magma. In other words, a stone.

She threw the stone through the back window. The glass shattered and Lillian quickly grabbed her second tool and hid in the shadows at the side of the back door.

Now, fate would need to intervene a final time. The prudent thing for Monroe to do would be to call the police and report the noise. That way, he wouldn't risk his own life investigating the sound.

But if Lillian was right about him, he would be brave. He would investigate the noise himself. He would want to find out who was invading his home and deal with the threat himself.

Lillian was right. Fate intervened. The back door opened, and Grant Monroe stepped outside, a handgun in his right hand, a forbidding frown on his face. His shoulders were square, his head held high, his eyes full of courage.

And Lillian lifted the crowbar high and slammed it down onto the back of his skull.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

“This is a waste of time. My client was under no obligation to answeranyquestions, and had I been there, I would have advised him not to. You’re rewarding him for his generosity by accusing him of murders based on what? Your dog’s nose?”

Faith understood that it was Britney’s job to defend her client, but she still had to keep her hands folded in her lap to resist the urge to strangle the smarmy bitch. She kept her tone calm when she replied, “We have motive and opportunity as well.”

Britney scoffed. “You have the minor irritation he suffered, and you have the fact that he lives alone and doesn’t have security cameras at his property. I live alone, Special Agent. I can’t prove my whereabouts for last night. Are you sure I didn’t kill Dr. Vasquez?”

“Cut the attitude,” Michael snapped. “We don’t have to like each other, but we’re going to have a civil conversation with each other.”

“No, we aren’t. We’re not going to have a conversation at all. Your probable cause is the fact that a dog reacted negatively to the presence of large predators.”

“He’s been around large predators several times during the course of our investigation,” Faith countered. “That was the only time he reacted that way.”

“So now it’s he said, the dog said? Come on, Special Agent. Be reasonable.”

“We’re just trying to establish the recent nature of Dr. Lawson’s relationship with Dr. Clement,” Faith said. “We haven’t even gotten past the first question.”

“His relationship with Dr. Clement was nonexistent,” Britney replied. “They had a falling out, and he cut ties with her. The way most adults would.”

“Well, one adult tore Dr. Clement’s scalp off and gouged her eyes out with fishhooks,” Michael replied, “so I suggest you find a better defense for your client than ‘Most adults wouldn’t do this, so clearly he wouldn’t.’”

“I suggest you find better evidence than, ‘My dog growled at him, so clearly he’s the killer.’”

“Try to look at this from our perspective,” Faith began.

“No! I’m looking at this from my client’s perspective and frommyperspective as his counsel. You’re desperate to find a killer, which I understand, but you’ve leaped at the tiniest thread that might connect my client to these crimes, and you’re trying to use that thread to pull an entire case to the surface.”

“I like how you said you were looking at this from your perspective than proceeded to speak from our perspective,” Michael said, his voice dripping with contempt.

Britney stuck to her guns. “It is my perspective that you are desperate and you’re trying to make the square peg of my client fit into the round hole of your case. Detective Cuthbert, have you succeeded in obtaining a warrant to search my client’s property?”

---