Midnight Rambler: A Novel of Suspense

“Skell just stared at me. He has strange eyes that are too small for his face. I saw a darkness in them that hadn't been there before. I knew something was wrong, and I hit the Play button on the CD player on the table, and ‘Midnight Rambler’ came out of the speaker. That's when I knew it was him.”

“Is that when he became violent?” Linderman asked.

I nodded solemnly.

“Did you provoke him?”

It's a question that I'd asked myself many times.

“No,” I said firmly.

“Then why did he become violent?”

“I have a couple of theories,” I said.

Linderman straightened in his chair. “Go ahead.”

“Skell's reaction to being arrested reminded me of many pedophiles I've arrested. They know their lives are about to become a living hell, so they get crazy.”

“Do you think Skell is a pedophile?”

I nodded again.

“But he doesn't have a record for pedophilia,” Linderman said.

“I think he's a closet pedophile,” I said. “Look at the victims he picked. They'd all been robbed of their childhoods and were emotionally immature.”

“Children in adult bodies,” Linderman said.

“That's right. I think Skell knew the consequences of preying on kids were severe, so he targeted immature women as a substitute. He chose women in the sex industry because he knew there would be less concern if they went missing.”

“Perfect victims,” Linderman said.

“Exactly. My other theory concerns Melinda Peters, the prosecution's key witness at Skell's trial. Skell kept her locked in a dog crate and played ‘Midnight Rambler’ on his stereo while standing in the next room. Melinda told me she thought he was masturbating. One day, Skell acted stressed out, and Melinda sensed he couldn't get an erection. She offered to have sex with him, and he let her out of the cage. That's when she bolted.

“I think Melinda's escaping sent Skell over the edge, and he went from being a closet pedophile to being a killer. He started picking up women who'd say they'd have sex with him, and murdered them.”

“So his fantasy changed from torturing women to killing them, with Melinda Peters fueling his rages.”

“That's correct.”

“I read in the newspaper that Skell's house was examined from top to bottom by a team of forensic experts and was absolutely clean,” Linderman said.

“Correct again.”

“So if you hadn't started his CD player, Skell would still be on the loose.”

“Yes.”

There was a brief silence as Linderman digested everything I'd said. Talking about the investigation had made me feel better, and I leaned back in my chair.

“Your turn,” I said.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Linderman went to the blinds and darkened the room. I like to work in the light, and he was obviously someone who gravitated toward the dark. When he sat down, I saw weariness in his face and offered to get coffee from the bar.

“That would be great,” he said.

While waiting for my order, I called Jessie and got voice mail. I wished her luck in her basketball game tonight and told her about a dream I had where she was hitting three-pointers from all over the court. The bartender delivered a steaming pot and two mugs on a tray, and I went upstairs and served my guest.

Caffeine takes ten seconds to hit your bloodstream. Linderman's face sparked to life, and I topped off his cup without being asked. He nodded his appreciation and began.

“I happen to share one of your theories, which is that sexual killers like Skell start out as sexual predators and over time evolve into killers,” Linderman said. “This evolution is one of the reasons they're so difficult to apprehend. They often become experts at deception, learning to hide their impulses from society for many years.”

“So my assumption that Skell was a pedophile is probably true,” I said.

He placed his empty cup on the tray. “Oh, it's definitely true. I started looking at Skell the moment I came to Florida. He's lived all over the state. While living in Tampa he was suspected of being a pedophile. The police saw him in his car near several schools. He was also caught frequenting teenage girl chat rooms on the Internet. It wasn't enough to enable us to arrest him, but he was definitely on everyone's radar.”

“Why did you start looking at him?” I asked out of curiosity.

“He lived in Miami five years ago,” Linderman said.

The same time Linderman's daughter lived there, I thought.

“Part of my job is to analyze killers like Skell to find recognizable behavioral patterns,” Linderman said. “These patterns usually explain motivation, which is essential to prosecution and conviction. Recently, I began examining the transcripts of Skell's trial. I believe I may have uncovered something.”

I grew rigid in my chair.

“Something I missed?”

“Yes. I'm sure it did not seem significant at the time, but that's because you're not trained in criminal psychology. But it was significant to me.”

“What did you find?”