Page 25 of Craving Sin (Touch of Evil 13)

Victor wisely didn’t take the bait. He fell into step beside Justin until they stopped near Russell. The two agents didn’t sit down. Instead, they remained alert despite her directive allowing them a five-minute break.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, dear sister?” Jacob said as he pressed the button on the push-top lid. The top flipped backward, allowing him to lift the bottle to his lips. She didn’t reply right away as she unhooked her own water bottle from her backpack. “It seems you’ve gone out of your way to ignore me for the entire trip. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Ignoreis such a strong word, Jacob.” Brook leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “I had business to conduct on the flight here. And let’s be honest with each other, not even you anticipated that Kate Lin would be murdered and her body left on the tarmac.”

It had taken every ounce of strength Brook possessed to casually mention Kate’s name during the conversation. Her chest tightened, but she succeeded if the stillness of her brother’s hands was any indication.

“Do you remember when we used to watch cartoons together on Sunday mornings?” Brook asked as she averted her gaze. Her tone hinted at a slight vulnerability, but she was careful with the exaggeration. “We used to laugh every time Daffy Duck made his entrance. That lisp of his would have us in stitches.”

Brook sensed the weight of Jacob’s stare as he searched for the meaning behind her words. The last time they had spoken for this long was when they stood in the middle of a cornfield after he had taken Sally Pearson’s life.

“Of course,” Jacob replied, the caution in his voice evident. “Though if we’re reminiscing about the good old days, I preferred Bugs. He always came out on top.”

“I know,” Brook admitted, slowly turning her head so that she could meet his gaze. “You stopped joining me after that day in the kitchen when you walked in with blood on your hands. You made me promise not to tell Mom, and I was so scared that she would find that stain on my shirt. I had instinctively reached out to you, believing you were hurt.”

Jacob's expression remained impassive, but she caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes. She finally had him, and now she just needed to follow through. Given how everyone was seated in the clearing, the others could hear every word exchanged between them. That was probably the reason Mitch hadn’t made an effort to shut down the discussion. Either that or Jacob had already signaled to him to leave well enough alone.

“It took a few weekends for me to realize that you never were that little boy who enjoyed cartoons.” Brook paused to take another sip of her water. “You mimicked me. You observed what made me laugh or cry, and you constructed the ability to follow along so that Mom and Dad wouldn’t suspect that there was something wrong inside of you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Victor muttered in revulsion under his breath.

The topic of conversation was causing everyone some slight discomfort, but that didn’t stop Brook from pushing forward. She had a point to make, and she couldn’t have chosen a better time or place. Jacob, on the other hand, hadn’t taken his focus from her. He seemed to be enjoying the walk down memory lane.

“It was around that time when you simply stopped caring.” Brook raised her left hand to emphasize her naivety regarding the situation. “Mom and Dad made every excuse they could for your change in behavior—puberty, teenage angst, you name it. I won’t lie to you. At first, I missed the big brother who would color with me, tease me…make me laugh.”

The distant hum of the helicopter grew louder as it circled back around, though it was high enough not to interfere too much with their conversation. Everyone else was listening intently, but Jacob didn’t seem to mind the intrusion.

“Do you know when I accepted the truth about what you are?” Brook inquired, not expecting him to answer. She reached down and clipped her water bottle to her backpack. “The day I found that sketchbook in your room.”

Jacob’s half-smile faltered just a bit. Her confirmation of something he hadn’t been certain of until now had sparked a touch of irritation.

“The drawing you made of Pamela Murray was…” Even now, the wave of nausea was overwhelming. Brook could still recall the texture of the rough paper and the faint scent of graphite. The details of the rendering had been so precise that it could have been a black-and-white photograph. Pamela’s skin had been slashed away to reveal raw, bleeding muscles and bone. “I hadn’t known you were so talented, not that I was thinking of such a thing after discovering what had to be your souvenir. A lot of serial killers take souvenirs. You draw yours, don’t you?”

Brook straightened while giving a humorless laugh.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? That morning was a wake-up call for me. Everything before that day had been a ruse. You had faked your way through our childhood, but taking Stella’s life had beenyourwake-up call.”

Brook could sense the tension radiating from the others nearby, but they remained silent. Uncharacteristically, so was Jacob.

“When I went to work for the FBI and honed my skills as a profiler, I initially did so to see if I could hunt you down.” Brook shot him a forced smile, though she hoped he couldn’t ascertain just how hard it was for her to remain nonchalant. “It only took three investigations for me to realize that the families of the victims played a bigger role in my motivations. They needed closure, and I was able to provide them with it.”

“You think this day will provide you with closure?” Jacob inquired, unable to help himself.

“I had closure the day I left the FBI.” Brook found her admission to be partly true, which likely explained why Jacob believed her. His brief flash of anger was too real to hide. “You’re no different from any other killer out there. You think I don’t know you stopped hiding your true nature because of me? You followed me that day at camp when I ran into the woods to retrieve the frisbee one of the kids threw too hard. I ended up falling down a steep incline, and that’s when Stella found me. She had been camping nearby with her uncle, but you knew that, too. And she was so mean to me. So, so mean. She thought she was better than every kid at that camp.”

“Is there a point to all this?”

“Yes.” Brook lifted her backpack and swung one of the straps over her right shoulder. Their break was almost over, and it was in their best interest to get this search over and done with. “It wasn’t Stella you wanted to hurt. It was me. I didn’t fight back. I allowed Stella to say those horrible things, because her words didn’t bother me. I was happy. I was at that camp because Mom and Dad knew how much I loved being with my friends, playing games, and singing around the campfire. It was me who believed her life was perfect…not Stella.”

Jacob's silence spoke volumes.

The air grew heavy between them, charged with unspoken understanding.

“Your obsession began to change from the exact moment you acted out your fantasies.” Brook didn’t break their stare. “And every single time you witness a woman believing her world is perfect and full of good, you think of me.”

Jacob ever so slowly shifted his upper body so that he could set the water bottle on a small flat surface of the fallen tree trunk. He then raised his arms and began to clap in applause.

“Do you get an A for such a profile, dear sister?”

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