Derek nodded. He now knew that he had hit too close to home to suit Sanders. Griff lived with his past sins haunting him and they were no doubt the driving force behind his need to rid the world of evil. He had founded the Powell Private Security and Investigation Agency as a means to bring to justice those whom regular law enforcement had difficulty apprehending and punishing. His clients paid according to their ability to do so and many cases were worked pro bono.
Without replying to Sanders, Derek walked away, his thoughts centered on Griffin Powell’s mysterious past. Why was Griff so certain that the copycat killer was sending him a message?
Errol watched Cyrene while she slept. He had never thought it possible to love a woman the way he loved her. He couldn’t look at her enough, couldn’t touch her enough, couldn’t make love to her enough. After his disastrous first marriage and the death of his little girl, he had thought he was destined to be miserable the rest of his life.
And then he had met Cyrene. In a coffee shop of all places. He’d stopped by to meet his sister for breakfast on his way to work and had accidentally bumped into the most gorgeous woman in the world while waiting in line. The moment she smiled at him, the whole world lit up, bright and warm and joyous. Yeah, sure, he hadn’t missed the fact that she had a great body. And yeah, right after her thousand-watt smile, her big boobs had been the first thing he’d noticed. But her body was icing on the cake. The woman inside was as beautiful as the sexy wrapping.
They had dated for six months before they slept together. She was a cautious lady, determined that no man would ever take advantage of her. By the time they made love for the first time, he was already in love. And so was she.
When he asked her to marry him a few weeks later, she had only one request—that he change jobs.
“I want a husband who doesn’t put his life in danger every day the way you do being an Atlanta police officer. I don’t want to have to worry if the father of my children may not come home one night because he got killed on the job.”
Errol reached down from where he lay beside her, his body propped up on his folded arm, and tenderly caressed her cheek. As much as he had loved being a police officer, he loved Cyrene more. Then and now.
He’d been lucky to find another job that he truly liked, one that actually paid better and afforded him and his new bride a more affluent lifestyle. He’d been with the Powell Agency for four months, having hired on a few weeks after his engagement. They had just bought a new house in Farragut a month before their wedding. And his new boss—Griffin Powell—had given them an all-expenses-paid two-week honeymoon at the Grand Resort in the Bahamas.
He laid his head on his pillow, stretched out his naked body beneath the cool, slightly wrinkled sheet, and closed his eyes.
Life was good. At long last.
Errol knew he was one damn lucky SOB.
Wearing tan cargo shorts and a hideous floral shirt, he sat at the end of the bar nursing some elaborate rum concoction, doing his best to look like a typical tourist. Most of the visitors at the resort were couples, many newlyweds or second honeymooners. In order to fit in, he had made a point of flirting with several single ladies who were obviously there man-hunting. He had already decided that tomorrow night he’d take one of those ladies to his room and ease some of the pre-kill tension he always experienced. A night of rough sex would do wonders for him.
He was in no rush. The most important thing was timing. Errol and Cyrene Patterson were on their honeymoon and spent a great deal of time in their room. The couple had been inseparable since their arrival at the resort last week. He didn’t want to kill both of them, but if necessary, he would. But only one was his target, only one was destined to become the Copycat Carver’s fifth victim.
Just as he took another sip of the syrupy sweet rum drink, his mobile phone vibrated in his shirt pocket. He lifted the phone from the pocket and glanced at the caller ID.
No information. Unknown number and name.
He tapped the answer key and put the phone to his ear. “I’m enjoying my vacation in the Bahamas. I’ve met some lovely ladies. Unfortunately some of the prettiest women are married and here on their honeymoon. There’s one woman . . .”
“I don’t need to know the details tonight. I prefer to allow my imagination to paint a mental picture of all the gruesome details.”
“Whatever you want.”
“Did you send Ms. Perdue her gift?”
“She should have received it today.”
“You sent it in care of her employer?”
“I did.”
“Then it’s only a matter of time before he arranges for her to visit the Georgia State Prison.”
Chapter 5
Maleah wasn’t surprised that Griff had managed to arrange for visitation privileges for Derek and her at the prison in Reidsville so quickly. He had placed a call to the governor over the weekend and by noon Monday, she and Derek were packing their bags. Barbara Jean, who handled a lot of the mundane details for the agency, booked them two rooms at the Hampton Inn in Vidalia, a twenty-minute drive from Reidsville. They had checked into the hotel before six and then had driven over to the county seat of Tattnall County where the state prison was located. Before they had left Griffin’s Rest yesterday, Sanders, who had confiscated their laptops earlier that morning, had informed them that all pertinent files on Jerome Browning had been loaded into a file folder. One file contained info on the penitentiary, the oldest state prison in Georgia. Constructed of marble in 1937 and opened in that same year, it remained the largest contributor to the city’s economy.
Numerous buildings containing four two-tiered cell blocks with single cells, the newer buildings spanning from the original structure, housed the convicts. The cell blocks were divided by population into two categories: general population units and one special management unit. As a convicted serial killer serving multi-life sentences, Jerome Browning was housed in a maximum security area.
Maleah hadn’t slept worth a damn. She would never admit it to Derek, but she was more than just a little nervous about meeting Browning. In all honesty, she was borderline terrified—terrified by the thought of how she might react when she actually came face-to-face with Noah’s killer. While she had tossed and turned for hours, longing for sleep that wouldn’t come, her mind had wandered back more than a dozen years, to the day she had met Noah Laborde, sophomore class president. It hadn’t been love at first sight. She didn’t believe in such a thing, not then and certainly not now. But it had been interest at first sight. They had dated for nearly a year before she had finally agreed to have sex with him.
Remembering the past in such vivid detail, recalling moments with Noah that she had thought long forgotten didn’t help Maleah’s already frayed nerves that morning. After grabbing a quick shower and brushing her hair up into a loose bun, she dressed in her professional garb—navy slacks, white shirt, lightweight tan jacket, and a pair of sensible low-heel navy shoes. After applying a minimum of makeup, she put on her wristwatch and small gold hoop earrings. She took all of half a minute to inspect herself in the mirror before slipping her small leather bag over her shoulder and leaving the room.
She didn’t bother stopping to knock on Derek’s door as she headed for the elevator. During the entire time they had worked together on the Midnight Killer case, she couldn’t recall a single morning that he hadn’t gotten up early, always before she did. The Hampton Inn provided a full breakfast, which meant they wouldn’t have to search for a place to eat this morning. Just as she had figured, he was waiting for her in the dining area adjacent to the lobby. Sitting alone at a table for two, a cup of coffee in front of him, a folded newspaper in one hand, and a soft-
