hounding you until I die. I am innocent of any wrongdoing, but I am finished before I had scarcely begun my political career because of my connection to this—this unfortunate young woman. Now, let’s get this interview over with. I want all of you out of here as soon as possible. What exactly is it that you want?”
Savich said in his calm, deep voice, “You’re right about a lot of that, of course, Mr. Lansford. Actually, your political career was over when your stepdaughter openly murdered a woman in San Francisco nearly six months ago. You just didn’t know it yet. I agree it isn’t fair, but there is nothing for me to apologize about. Once we had Kirsten’s DNA, once we’d identified her, we were led inevitably to you, Kirsten’s stepfather.
“I understand your anger, your sense of unfairness, but you’re an experienced man, sir, a savvy man, and so you know there are always leaks, it doesn’t matter the organization, whether it be a police department or a high- tech company like your own. Our news conference was a response to such a leak. Your relationship to Kirsten Bolger had to come out, it was inevitable, so I wasn’t at all surprised when a reporter brought it up. It required only a modicum of research.”
“It doesn’t matter! It shouldn’t have happened! It is not right that it should come out. Her mother and I are ruined, do you understand? Ruined!”
“May I remind you, sir, this isn’t some sort of vendetta waged against you by the FBI or the San Francisco Police Department. Five innocent women are known dead at the hands of your stepdaughter. It is very likely Kirsten murdered another six women.”
“But it isn’t—yes, of course I’m distressed by the murders. Wait, what did you say? She killed before? Another six women? That’s insane. I never heard such a thing. There was no news about it, nothing at all.”
Lucy spoke for the first time, aware that Lansford’s aide was standing six feet away, arms crossed over his chest, and he hadn’t looked away from her. Why? “The reason you haven’t heard of the other dead women is that Kirsten must have hidden the bodies of her early victims. It seems she was practicing, Mr. Lansford, honing her skills.
“Sooner or later the media will pick up on these other women we fear she murdered. You can count on it, since something this heinous can’t be kept under wraps for long.”
George Bentley Lansford looked like someone had punched a big hole in his elegant suit coat. They all saw that the murders were no longer an abstraction to him, that he’d finally realized to his bones that Kirsten had brought violent death to a dozen human beings, to people just like himself. He ran his tongue over his lips. “Practicing?”
Coop said, “Serial killers often refine their approach, discovering what sorts of killing methods give them the greatest satisfaction. Yes, we believe she murdered at least six more women, actually some of them young girls, and buried them deep so no one would ever find them.”
Lansford looked sick, his anger defeated, and older than he had when they’d stepped through the door ten minutes before. “All right, I understand. I had no clue, none at all. I saw her very few times over the years. I thought she was sullen, indifferent to me, nothing more. You’ve got to believe me. If her mother had noticed anything, she would have said something to me. But, of course, her mother hadn’t seen Kirsten for a very long time before her last birthday party; neither of us had. A dozen women? She’s murdered a dozen women?”
Coop said, “When we catch her, we’re hoping she will tell us where she buried them all.”
Savich said, “Let me add that these six are the only ones we know about so far, all of them from the Bay Area. There could be more, out of the area, even out-of-state, but I personally tend to doubt it, because we’ve discovered that each of the women who disappeared knew Kirsten. They weren’t strangers to her.
“Mr. Lansford, as Agent McKnight said, not all of them were grown women. Annie Sparks was only sixteen years old when she went missing. She attended Mount Elysium High School in San Francisco, shared a biology class with Kirsten. Would you like to hear about the other five women who were almost certainly victims of your stepdaughter?”
“No! Listen, you can’t be sure about these other missing women—girls—not really.” There was no more heat in Mr. Lansford’s words. He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I simply can’t imagine that she would do such a thing, over and over—and enjoy it.”
Coop had wanted to dislike this man, but the shock and despair he saw in his eyes was painfully real. Even the lawyers were trying hard not to show their horror. Mr. Lansford’s aide, Mr. Buff Tan, hadn’t moved an inch since assuming his nearby guard position. “You are in no way to blame, Mr. Lansford,” Coop said. “We know you married her mother twelve years ago, which would have made Kirsten twenty-one years old, an adult. What would be helpful is if you would give us your impressions of Kirsten, any personal information you think could help us find her.”
Lansford began to pace the suite’s living room, his lawyers hovering close, wanting to object, but to what? Then, with perfect timing, one of the lawyers said, “There is nothing Mr. Lansford can tell you that would be of any assistance in finding her. After all, as you said, she was already an adult when he married her mother. As he has already said, he rarely saw her. She was nearly a stranger to him.”
Lucy said, “Tell us about her birthday, Mr. Lansford—you gave her a black Porsche, right?”
Lansford stopped pacing and slowly turned to face her. “How do you know about that?”
Coop said, “Your sister-in-law, Sentra Bolger, told us.”
He looked ready to spit. “Sentra? That idiot woman, you can’t believe a word she says, she’s nuts, and it’s worse because she’s good at it, she’s very convincing.”
Lucy said, “Yes, she is convincing. Surely your wife told you when we interviewed Sentra, we believed her to be Kirsten’s mother and your wife, Elizabeth Mary Lansford?”
“Yes, yes, but she said Sentra refused to tell her anything about her conversation with you, only that Sentra had said she’d kissed you off.” He nodded at Lucy and Coop. “You two were with her on Friday night?”
Lucy said, “Yes, we were, and believe me, Sentra was very up front, very believable at playing both your wife and Kirsten’s mother. About Kirsten’s birthday—Sentra told us Kirsten was charming to you, unusual for her, according to Sentra. She told us Kirsten was very pleased with your gift of the Porsche. Sentra was there, wasn’t she, sir?”
“Yes, she was, not that I wanted her there, but Elizabeth believed it would be a good idea because she is, after all, Kirsten’s aunt, and Elizabeth wanted Kirsten’s family around her. Bruce”—Lansford nodded toward Mr. Buff Tan—“was there as well. Listen, Sentra loves to play roles. She could be Lady Macbeth one minute and then segue easily into Lady Gaga.”
Coop asked, “Why did you buy her such an expensive present, Mr. Lansford?”
Again he ran his tongue over his lips.
One of the lawyers said, “A father’s gift doesn’t have to justify a price tag, Agent.” Almost in the next breath, the lawyer cleared his throat. “Ah, what I meant to say is that even a stepfather, related only by marriage, a man who had nothing at all to do with any of her upbringing, can give a splendid gift, Agent McKnight, as a loving gesture to his wife.”
Lansford said, not looking away from Coop, “Shut up, Cox. Listen, Agents, you want the truth? Here it is—I could barely tolerate Kirsten. She was cold and weird and generally unpleasant, and, as far as I could tell from all the years I knew her, she didn’t have a single friend, didn’t go on a single date with a man, and despised her mother. But then again, I rarely saw her; her mother, either. So was she always like this? A loner? Always creepy? I don’t know, but it sounds right.”
Lucy said, “Then why the Porsche, Mr. Lansford?”
He waved them over to one of the beautiful sofas. “Sit, all of you, sit.”
Cox opened his mouth again, but Lansford waved him to silence. “I gave her the Porsche because her mother—although she didn’t say anything about it to me—wanted desperately to see her daughter. I knew the only way to make Kirsten come over, the only way to make sure she’d be pleasant, was to do something big, like the Porsche. That’s why I gave it to her.
“Now, Elizabeth told me who Kirsten’s father was when I asked her to marry me, when Kirsten was nineteen. Elizabeth didn’t ever want me to question that she’d kept the truth from me on purpose if, somehow, I found out about Kirsten’s parentage. I tell you, I couldn’t believe it at first. I mean, Ted Bundy, that horrific monster—no, I couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe the woman I loved had actually slept with that psychopath. I didn’t want to know any of the particulars, and that was fortunate, since she didn’t want to talk about what had happened between the two of them.
“As I said, Kirsten was nineteen at the time. I’ll tell you, even before I knew who Kirsten’s father was, I
