The Darkness of Evil (Karen Vail #7)
Alan Jacobson
For Kevin Smith During Kevin’s decades-long career in publishing, he has edited and sharpened prose, uncovered weaknesses and writing tics, and guided authors on the path to refining their craft.
While working closely with me on nine books over a span of nine years, Kevin has become as much a steward of my characters as I am. We’ve come to talk bluntly, but good-naturedly, to each other as only fellow New Yorkers can—resulting in a level of honesty that gives me complete trust in his opinion. His ability to home in on a scene, or paragraph, or sentence, or word, that isn’t quite right—and then brainstorm with me until we find a solution—is something I’ve relied on to bring an extra shine to my novels.
The Darkness of Evil is the first work I did not title myself—and it’s only fitting that the novel that’s dedicated to Kevin is the one that he named.
“It’s hard to distance yourself from so much evil and darkness when that person is your dad. You just think, How can I be a part of something that ends up so terrible?”
—CINDY DYKES,
daughter of murderer
Jimmy Lee Dykes
“Forgiveness is there between the lines … she recalls all that we did as a family—many good memories … That is true love from a daughter’s heart. What else can a father ask for?”
—SERIAL KILLER DENNIS RADER, December 2013 letter to The Wichita Eagle from the El Dorado maximum-security
correctional facility “To take one human life is an outrage; to take five is carnage.”
—JUSTICE ALBERT SACHS,
when sentencing serial killer
Colin Ireland
1
3901 NEBRASKA AVENUE NW
WASHINGTON, DC
Did he ever sodomize you?”
The bright lights in the television studio bore down on Jasmine Marcks and caught a glistening tear as it coursed down her cheek.
FBI profiler Karen Vail clenched her jaw. How could this woman be so callous?
“No,” Jasmine said. “He saved that for his victims, the ones he killed.”
Talk show host Stephanie Sabotini waved her hand in the air, as if dismissing Jasmine’s answer. “You never really say in your book that you feel guilty. Don’t you feel remorse? An ounce of guilt?”
Jesus Christ. What’s she supposed to feel guilty about?
Jasmine wiped at her moist cheek with a couple of fingers and tilted her head. “What?”
Vail tried to remember the cute floor director’s name she was introduced to shortly after arriving. Theo. Vail stepped quickly to her right and elbowed him.
Theo was focused on his cameraman and startled a bit as he turned to Vail.
“That’s enough. Tell Ms. Sabotini she’s gone too far.”
“Nothing I can do, Agent Vail. Miss Marcks agreed to the interview.”
Vail wondered if Jasmine’s publicist, munching on catered food in the green room, was watching the show. “Jasmine’s been through enough. She’s here to promote her book, not be interrogated and chastised.”
Sabotini leaned forward in her seat. “I find it hard to believe that you and your mother were oblivious to what was going on. I mean, your father was a serial killer. You were his daughter and you say you loved him, that he was a good father.”
Vail grabbed Theo’s arm. “Now. Tell her to back off. Or I’ll go over there and tell her myself. While the camera’s rolling.”
Theo repositioned the headset mic in front of his lips. “Stephanie, the FBI agent’s having problems with your questions. She wants you to back off.”
Sabotini’s eyes narrowed slightly and her head jerked slightly right, as if she took umbrage at Theo’s remark. She refocused on Jasmine, who was answering the host’s question.
“I was a kid. He treated me like I was a queen. I was like any other girl who loved her daddy. How could I know he was a serial killer?”
Sabotini glanced into the darkness and found Vail, whose angry gaze was fixed on her face. She cleared her throat and said, “How about we get back to your book, Jasmine?”
What a terrific idea. Vail nodded a thank you to Theo, who winked at her and arched his brow flirtatiously. Vail scratched a phantom itch on her cheek with her left hand, showing him her engagement ring. Taken. Sorry, buddy. She turned back to Jasmine, who was already answering Sabotini’s follow-on question.
“It’s not like my father turned to me one day and said, ‘Honey bear, I killed fourteen people.’ But he did say some weird things that, when I was older, started to make me think, reevaluate some of the things he’d said to me over the years.”
“When you were a teenager,” Sabotini said, “you found some duct tape with blood on it. And you went to the police.”
“Well, when combined with the other things, yeah, the tape made me think something wasn’t right. I saw articles in the paper, reports on the news about the Blood Lines serial killer in Virginia. They said he used a knife to carve parallel lines on his victims’ stomachs—and they also said he used duct tape to tie up his victims. I saw my dad come home once with blood on his shirt. Wasn’t much, but my mom saw it. He told her he cut himself on his truck and she didn’t need to worry about it. But I started thinking, duct tape, blood … what if my daddy was the killer? I got scared. I thought the police could tell me if he was the one.”