Page 214 of The Archer Brothers

“Let’s see.” He taps his lips with his finger, which is a bit comical since his hands are cuffed, so his other hand is just there, limp. “A conjugal, but she has to be untouched. Fresh,” he says as he licks his lips. “Blonde too.”

“You’re not married,” I point out.

“Well, someone to love then.”

“What you do to these girls isn’t love.”

His eyes darken and I know I’ve pissed him off. I have to watch my words, or he’ll stop cooperating. “They loved me, just as much as I loved them. Maybe even more.”

If I had my gun, I would shoot him. Instead, I pick up the folder and thumb through it until I find the image I need. It’s of a blonde, around ten, and completely fabricated on the computer. She bears no likeness to any human other than the head of a model a hairdresser would use. My team suspected this would be what he wanted and came up with the idea. I wasn’t on board at first because I didn’t want the image to look like any of our victims or any unsuspecting child out there. While Lawson won’t get to keep the image, I don’t need him describing this picture to someone on the phone. With one last look, I flip the photo around and slide it to the middle of the table. His eyes light up like the sky on the Fourth of July. My team had been right.

“Oh, she is delicious,” he says as his finger traces her make-believe face. I pull the photo away and put it back inside my folder.

“Now,” I say as I reach for my yellow notepad. “Tell me about Samson.”

He shrugs again but then says, “I’ve been on his yacht.”

“When?”

Again, with the shoulder. “Couple years ago, with Donna.” He looks at the small window and sighs. “I do miss her. She was so easy to manipulate. She was my first virgin, ya know. So perfect at thirteen.”

I hate my job.

“She wanted me, her older brother. She used to hide in my closet when I’d have girls over. I could see her behind the door, the dark shadow lurking. I always left the light on so Donna could see me, and I’d look at her while I fucked whatever girl was there. One time, I had a threesome, and little Donna stayed in my closet for hours, watching her big brother and the girls. I caught her once, getting herself off, and I told her I could do it for her. That I could make her feel good. That I’d be the only man never to let her down. And I didn’t let her down. I gave her a baby and tried to give her another. She desperately wanted a son.”

“So, she could groom him as you did her?”

His eyes snap to mine. “I loved Donna.”

“If you loved her so much, why not just stay with her? Why did you,” I pause and center myself. I have to be careful with my wording, or he’ll stop talking. “Why did you pay Samson for young girls?”

Lawson inhales and moans. “I can still smell them, ya know. And see their precious faces when I took their virginity. They looked so serene.”

Or they were scared for their lives. I bite my tongue. He’s talking, and I don’t want to interrupt him. But I also don’t want to hear talk about this shit. He’s disgusting, and this world needs to be rid of him.

“What else can you tell me about Samson?”

Lawson shrugs again, and I want to reach across the table and strangle him.

“Where did you meet him?”

“Oh, you’re not going to believe this, pretty FBI lady.” He motions for me to lean closer. I do, against my better judgment. “My dad,” he whispers.

I jump back instantly. His dad? There’s no way. “Are you telling me that former Admiral Ingram knows Constantin Samson?”

Lawson nods. “Good ole daddy.” He sighs. “How come you never asked why?”

“Why what?”

“Why I’m like this?”

Because you’re a sick fuck.

“Why are you like this, Ted?”

“Maybe Mrs. Ingram loved boys.”

I let his words linger in the air. “Are you telling me your mother molested you?” Fucking wonderful. He’s setting himself up for an appeal.

---