Chapter Twenty-seven

Ben

Griffin stopped me with a hand on my arm before we could step inside the station. "You should be in bed recuperating. No one would think less of you. Not when you've been through such a harrowing experience."

I lifted my hand to the thick dressing covering the right side of my temple. No fractured skull, thankfully. Just a few stitches and a bad case of concussion that still had me suffering occasional bouts of dizziness two days later. "I'm fine."

The obvious lie earned me a disapproving look. Taking a blow to the head from a baseball bat had also left me with the black eye to end all black eyes, Griff not finding it at all funny when I'd joked that I was going to claim I'd been in the boxing ring with Tyson Fury.

Despite his lack of amusement, Griffin had been steadfast in his care of me in the last couple of days, revealing nursing skills I hadn't known he possessed. He seemed more shaken up about everything that had happened than I was. Maybe because he was the one who'd brought Flynn into our lives. Although, I suspected that he'd have found his way into it one way or another. I might have been hunting him, but he'd also been hunting me, and I didn't quite buy—no matter how much in love with the man I was myself—that Flynn's assault on me was solely about having Griff to himself. It might have been his primary motive, but I was sure that my role as investigating detective of the murders he'd committed played at least a small part.

"Okay… I'm not fine," I admitted, the honesty lessening Griff's glare. "But I've been away too long already. I need to know what he's saying." Which wasn't much if the reports that had gotten back to me were anything to go by. Flynn might not be hiding that he was Satanic Romeo, but when it came to his reasons for wanting to summon a demon, he'd clammed up completely and was refusing to be drawn on it, even going so far as to deny it completely.

Griff let out a sigh, but seemed to realize that arguing was pointless as we entered the station, the air conditioning a relief after the unseasonably warm weather outside. I changed the subject as we passed the reception desk and traversed the corridor, neither of us having talked much about the case in the past couple of days. "Did you hear from Cade?"

The face Griffin pulled said it all. "I did. In stereo. A thirty-minute tirade with copious amounts of swearing, where he pointed out at least ten times that he's only just gotten John's license back and he has neither the time nor the energy to be arsing around and doing the same for me."

"Ouch! Thank God you're friends. Imagine how much worse it might have been if you weren't. "

"Yeah." Griffin sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the simple gesture making me want to reach up and run my fingers through it. "Anyway, he called back an hour later to say that he and Baros had chatted, and that Baros agreed not to notify the council about my actions."

"That's good." I thought about it some more. "Uncharacteristically charitable of the DCS, but good, nevertheless."

"Yeah, I thought the same. Either Cade has something on him, or he owes Baros one hell of a favor." He shrugged. "Either way, I'm not about to argue when it takes my neck off the chopping block."

We stepped into the incident room and I winced as everyone stood and started applauding. For fuck's sake. If I'd known they were going to make a fuss, I'd have stayed in bed. Grinning, Paul White stepped forward to give me a slap on the back. "Good job, Benito. You showed that bastard what for."

"I didn't really…"

"Hey! Take it easy," Griffin growled as someone else congratulated me too roughly for his liking, and to mine, if I was honest. "He's still got a concussion."

It took a few minutes to navigate the room, most people keeping their distance after Griffin's protective bear act and choosing to offer their congratulations orally rather than physically.

Once we were out of there and had rounded the corner, I leaned back against the wall and dragged a lungful of air in. "Well, that was fucking ridiculous."

"Why?" Griffin stepped close. Close enough that I could smell the cologne he wore. I would have told him to step back, but the ship of pretending we weren't an item had long since sailed after him refusing to let go of me in Flynn's bedroom. There'd even been a point where I thought he might punch the paramedic tending to me simply for the crime of touching me. He'd never been possessive before. But then he'd never found me at the mercy of a serial killer before. Besides, I'd be lying if I said there wasn't a part of me that had liked him turning into a caveman.

I laughed, the action managing not to exacerbate the faint pounding in my skull that no amount of pain medication seemed to shift. "It'll take time," was what the doctor had said. Well, I'd never been a patient man and all I wanted was to get back to normal. "Because… I didn't really catch him, did I? I didn't have a fucking clue who he was despite having met him." A muscle twitched in Griffin's cheek and I knew what he was thinking. He hadn't just met him. He'd been intimate with him, and he hadn't known either. I hadn't pushed on how far they'd gone, but it helped somewhat to know they hadn't been close enough for Griff to know about the tattoo on Flynn's chest. Although, the irony didn't escape me that if he had known, I could have skipped the concussion and simply gone round and arrested him.

Griffin blew out a breath and I knew he was searching for the right words. I reached over and squeezed his arm. "I'm fine. Honestly, I am. That"—I pointed in the direction we'd just come—"makes me feel like a fraud, that's all. If anyone, it should have been you they were congratulating."

He shook his head. "Not really. It's Asher we both have to thank."

He'd told me what had happened, but as neither of us could make head nor tail of how Asher could have known Flynn's address, the conversation had proved short-lived. I intended to ask Asher a few questions myself when the opportunity arose. Right now, though, we had bigger fish to fry. Serial killing fish. Levering myself away from the wall and forcing myself out of the mindset of having accepted accolades I didn't deserve, I kept walking.

The scene when we arrived in the observation room was eerily reminiscent, even down to it being Lou and Emma doing the interviewing. Only instead of Dougie in the hot seat, it was Flynn. For a moment, I couldn't bring myself to look at him, adrenaline and fear kicking in to transport me back to the bedroom where he'd rendered me helpless. Griffin looped his fingers around my wrist and squeezed, a non-verbal message to say he felt it, but that I'd be okay, that he was there for me. It wasn't holding my hand, but it was the next best thing. I dragged in what air there was in the slightly stuffy room and forced myself to focus on Flynn, telling myself that he was just another killer, and that I'd dealt with plenty of them in my career.

The first thing I noticed were the blue eyes—the contacts either confiscated or he'd chosen not to wear them. The next was that he was back to being all boyish charm and good looks as Lou and Emma questioned him, with no sign of the crazed man who'd pinned me to a bed and had every intention of doing to me what he'd done to the rest of the victims. Curiosity had me ignoring us not being alone and turning to Griffin to ask the question I'd so far avoided. "Was there nothing that made you think twice about him?"

Griffin's gaze dropped to his feet, the tinge of red that appeared on his cheekbones making me want to take the question back. "No," he finally said. "There wasn't. I thought he was exactly what he said he was. "

Lou's body language reeked of frustration as he turned the questions to Flynn's reason for the murders, only for the man to sit back in his chair, cross his arms over his chest, and go silent. There was no lawyer next to him, but I didn't know what that meant. Probably that he knew he was going down for this either way and that he felt he was quite capable of not being pushed into saying anything he didn't want to. He'd demonstrated that perfectly so far.

A knock came on the interview room door, Lou stepping out while Emma continued asking questions. My partner wasn't gone long, his body language noticeably more chipper when he stepped back into the room. What was that about? I didn't have to wait long to find out, the observation room door opening to admit a tall man with dark hair. Griffin's small groan told me that while I might not know who he was, he did, and he wasn't pleased to see him.

Baros came in behind him. He headed my way, wearing an expression I assumed was meant to be concern. He needed more practice at it, the emotion not quite landing. "You're signed off on medical leave for another two weeks."

I shrugged. "Yet, here I am. And unless you're going to have me escorted off the premises, I'm staying."

Baros smirked in a rare show of amusement. "I wouldn't dare. Not after your heroics." The flick of his eyes to Griffin said he'd included him in that statement. "I'd never hear the end of it." He jerked his head to the tall man standing silently at his side, something about the way he was looking at me making me uneasy. Or perhaps I was just picking up on Griffin's tension about the man's presence. "This is Kendrick," Baros said. "He's a psychic at the PPB." His gaze shifted to Griffin. "I'm assuming you two already know each other?" Griffin inclined his head in agreement, but said nothing.

I held my hand out. Despite Griffin's prickly attitude, I didn't want to come across as rude. Not until I knew him better, anyway. "I'm—"

"Ben," the man said as he took my hand and shook it.

He laughed at my look of surprise. "You thought it before you said it."

Jesus! Was it really that easy for him to read my mind? No wonder Griff looked about as comfortable as if he was having a root canal done. I snatched my hand back in case touch made it easier for him to read my innermost thoughts. That prompted another laugh. If my actions offended Kendrick, he didn't show it.

"Why are you here, Kendrick?" Griffin asked, in a tone that said it was bad enough bumping into him at work without having to worry about running into him elsewhere.

Kendrick left it to Baros to explain. "I loaned him from Cade. He owed me a favor." The way Baros' gaze lingered on Griffin when he said it answered the question we'd posed less than half an hour ago. That's what Baros had wanted in exchange for letting Griff off the hook.

Something about being "loaned" didn't sit comfortably with Kendrick, his brow furrowing. He shook it off, though. "Where is he?"

Where was who? And then as Baros led the psychic over to the one-way mirror so he could see Flynn, I got it, excitement bubbling in my chest.

"Fowler's been told to keep asking questions," Baros said.

Which explained why he'd stepped out a couple of minutes ago. "Will this work?" I asked, hope present in my voice .

"It should," Kendrick said. "But it's not a guarantee. People have different levels of resistance to it. With some people I get complete sentences, whereas with others, it's just the odd word. Psychic readings aren't an exact science."

Just like necromancy. I doubted anything under the umbrella of the PPB's services could be called an exact science.

Baros opened his mouth to say something, Kendrick raising a hand to stall him. "I need absolute silence if this is going to work."

We all nodded our agreement and focused on the other room, Lou standing with his arms braced against the table. I recognized the tactic, having used it myself. It was about making himself look bigger than Flynn. Unfortunately, Flynn seemed immune to the intimidation tactic, lolling back in his chair so comfortably he may as well have been at home on the sofa.

"Tell me about trying to kill DCI Weaver?" Lou asked.

I winced. Great. I already relived it in my dreams. Now, I'd get to hear about it while I was awake. Griffin shot me a sympathetic look, but neither of us broke Kendrick's request for silence. The sooner this was over, the better as far as I was concerned.

Flynn shifted slightly. "What do you want to know? Do you want to know what it feels like when a baseball bat comes into contact with a person's skull?" My hand lifted to the bandage at my temple, but I dropped it as soon as I realized what I'd done. "Or do you want to talk about how pissed I am that I didn't succeed?" His gaze shifted to the mirror, his eyes seeming to burn into me, even though I knew he couldn't possibly see me. "Is he here? Or is he still in the hospital? He looked to be in a bad way the last time I saw him. Poor Ben." The words might have sounded sincere if a small smile hadn't accompanied them .

Lou crossed his arms over his chest and stared the man down. "You told DCI Weaver that the demon required a special prize and that he fitted the profile. Why? Because he was the senior investigating officer, or was there some other reason?"

Flynn cocked his head to one side and frowned. "What demon?"

We all looked to Kendrick, but he shook his head. "Nothing yet."

"The demon you told DCI Weaver about," Emma interjected. "The one you were sacrificing men to. The one who needed fingers as proof of your killings. That demon."

Flynn laughed and leaned forward slightly, elbows braced on the table. "I think you've been watching too many horror films. I killed because I could. Because it was easy."

"Then why remove their fingers?" Lou asked.

Flynn shrugged. "A souvenir. We killers like our souvenirs. Have you heard of Ismo Kullervi Juno? He was a Finnish killer who kept the teeth of his victims. Jeffrey Dahmer kept skulls. Anatoly Onoprienko took his victim's underwear. Bit kinky, that one, if you ask me. Charles Albright took eyes. It's very common. We like to look back at them and remember how the moment felt. I would have thought you'd have done your research and know all about trophies."

"You're lying," Lou said.

"Am I?" Another shrug. "If you say so."

Kendrick let out a breath. "He's too calm. Too guarded. I can't get anything."

"Fuck!" The epithet from Baros was uncharacteristic, but I shared the sentiment wholeheartedly. A nugget of an idea came to me and I turned it over in my head, hoping to find an alternative. When none presented itself, I gave in to the inevitability of it. Flynn had reverted to the amiable bartender, the man used to dealing with difficult situations without letting them get to him. Granted, you wouldn't find many bartenders who talked about killing as easily as he did. But when it came down to it, the only time I'd seen him rattled was when he'd been attacking me. "I'm going to go in there," I stated. "I need an earpiece so Kendrick can communicate with me."

Griffin's head whipped my way, his eyes blazing. "Absolutely no fucking way! I don't you want you anywhere near him."

I'd wondered if news of our relationship had reached Baros' ears. His lack of reaction at Griffin's proprietary attitude said it had. No doubt we'd be having words about it later, where I'd have to choose whether to lie and pretend it was a recent thing, or confess to not having told him about our past when I should have done. Something to look forward to. "I should have gotten the truth out of him before. He alluded to the demon. He would have said more if I'd pushed him on it."

Griffin gave a sardonic laugh. "What? When he was trying to kill you? Don't be ridiculous, Ben. You were too busy trying to stay alive to interrogate him."

"True." I stood taller, pushing my shoulders back and making it look like going into that room with the man who'd tried to kill me and almost succeeded wouldn't be the hardest thing I'd ever done. Kendrick knew, though. I could see by his expression. No doubt he'd plucked the thoughts right out of my head. "But this time, I will interrogate him."

Baros had stayed silent, scrutinizing me without giving away what he was thinking. Griffin was still shaking his head when Baros finally spoke. "You don't have to do this."

"I do. I need an end to it. And I need it today. Maybe then I can take medical leave. "

Baros nodded slowly before getting on the radio. "This is DCS Baros. I need an earpiece brought to observation room one, and I need it yesterday."

It arrived in under a minute, the detective constable tasked with delivering it out of breath. "I need to be alone in there," I said as I jammed the earpiece in my right ear and Kendrick did the same with its twin. "Just me and him."

Griffin swore under his breath, my fiancé still no happier about my decision. "No."

Despite us not being alone, I grabbed hold of his hands and forced him to look at me. "There will be people outside the door." I looked to Baros and waited for his nod of agreement. "All I have to do is shout and they'll come running."

Griffin shook his head. "I don't like it."

"I know. And if the roles were reversed, I wouldn't either."

Griffin brightened. "That's what we should do. I should go in there. I can tell him what a piece of shit he is and how much I enjoyed tasering him."

It was my turn to shake my head. "It wouldn't work. He's too clever." I hated admitting that, but that didn't stop it from being true. "He'd smell a rat a mile off. Whereas if I go in there, I'm just another detective wanting to ask him questions. Well, not just another detective given our history, but you get the idea." I let go of his hands and stepped back.

"If he touches you, I'll kill him," Griffin said.

I laughed. "Not the best place to be making threats like that, but I appreciate the sentiment."

It took a few minutes to get our ducks in a row, Lou and Emma asked to vacate the room, and Kendrick and I making sure the equipment did the job it needed to and we could hear each other. Finally, I stood outside the interview room with nothing left to do but push the door open and walk in.

"If he goes for you, just shout," Graham Price, one of the DCs tasked with waiting outside the room, reminded me. "We'll be there in seconds." He lifted a taser similar to the one Flynn had already become intimately acquainted with. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to give him 1500 volts."

I nodded and then stepped inside. Flynn's bored expression disappeared as he glanced up, a smile lighting up his handsome face. "Well, well, well, look who it is." He touched his own head where my bandage was. "Head still sore, is it?" He lowered his gaze. "What about the fingers? Any of them dropped off? If so, I'll have them." He laughed at his own joke.

I took the seat opposite him without saying a word. For a moment as I stared into his eyes, I was back on that bed with him holding me down, and knowing there was no chance of escape, that my head wound had incapacitated me just like he'd intended. It had never been a fair fight, and he'd made sure of it. I swallowed and pulled myself together, refusing to give in to the fear lurking beneath the surface. We'd been alone before, but we weren't alone now. Not really. There were men in the next room and men just outside the door.

He was just another killer who'd used underhand tactics to get the jump on me.

Besides, if I carried on being scared, Griffin would probably say to hell with what I wanted and burst in here to rescue me for the second time this week. With that in mind, I sat up straighter and held his gaze, refusing to be the first to blink.

He looked momentarily surprised before narrowing his eyes. "You're wasting your time. I'm only going to say the same to you as I did to Tweedledum and Tweedledee. You can make up as many stories as you like about demons, but that doesn't make them true."

I laughed. "Oh, I made them up, did I? You said no such thing?"

"I didn't. Perhaps it was the bang to the head that had you imagining it."

"Perhaps. Anyway, I'm not here to talk about the case."

"You're not?" More surprise. I wasn't buying him being as composed as he was pretending to be. "What are you here to talk about, then?"

I rested my elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Griffin." I let the name hang there for a few seconds. "I wanted to share our good news with you."

"Good news?"

There was no mistaking the way his jaw tightened. So he really did have feelings for Griff. It hadn't just been another layer of bullshit. "We're engaged," I said, "and planning on getting married soon. We don't see any point in waiting." Let Baros make of that what he would.

Flynn lifted his chin, his blue eyes frosting over. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not. He asked me to marry him and I said yes. That afternoon, actually, just before you conned me into thinking he was in danger."

Flynn sat back in his seat and regarded me coolly. "Why are you telling me this?"

I allowed myself a smile, one far more genuine than I'd have believed myself capable of before entering the room. "I just wanted you to know that you really didn't win, that we're stronger than ever."

Kendrick, who'd been silent up to this point, suddenly spoke in my ear. "Keep going… it's working. I'm starting to hear his thoughts."

"He told me you were crap in bed," I outright lied. "That even if I hadn't come back into his life, that he wouldn't have looked at you as anything other than convenient."

Flynn stood, his shoulders tight, and his face contorted with rage. I dropped my gaze to his crotch disparagingly as I remained seated. "He said you had a small dick as well." I had to admit that as unprofessional as it might be, I was enjoying myself. There'd been a few criminals over the years that I would have loved nothing more than to go to town on, but it would have detonated my career if I had. This, though… This was for a purpose.

"He never said that."

My smile this time erred on the side of patronizing. "Oh, come on. You know Griff has a more abrasive side, so why be surprised at him using it against you? You didn't really think the two of you were going to be love's young dream, did you? I figured all that crap you spouted about being a shoulder for him to cry on was showboating for my benefit. You know, just to make what you thought were my last moments more difficult."

"I…"

Flynn was red in the face now. If I carried on goading him, he'd jump across the table and attack me. Again. I did what Kendrick had instructed me to do, immediately changing tack. "Tell me about this demon you were trying to summon? What did you want it to do?"

"I told you," Flynn said, his teeth gritted, "there is no demon except for the one in your imagination. "

"Gezgomar," Kendrick said in my ear. "I got the name as clear as day."

It was the same name Professor Rafferty Hart had provided, proving he'd been on the right track.

"Gezgomar, right?" I said. "The demon of death."

Something flickered across Flynn's face as he sank back into his chair. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Who's Janessa?"

A muscle twitched in his cheek. "I don't know that name."

"That's funny," I said. "Because Aaron said you talked about her at length. You remember Aaron, right? You should do. He was your last victim. Your last ever seeing as you'll be locked up for the rest of your life."

"His sister," Kendrick said. "She died."

"I'm sorry she died. Was it recent?"

Flynn shoved his chair back from the table violently, his gaze darting around the room as if he expected to find something hiding in the corner. "How do you know that?"

I ignored his question. "Who masterminded this thing? Because I don't think it was you. I think you're doing it for someone else. You told Aaron that as well, right? You mentioned a woman. What woman?"

"There is no woman," Flynn said disdainfully. "Just me."

"His mother," Kendrick said. "And he has a lot of mixed-up feelings about her."

I pinned Flynn with a look. "Tell me about your mother? You don't get on, right? Why would you kill people for her if you don't get on?"

Flynn shook his head. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Baros says we need a name," Kendrick said, "and that you need to keep him talking until we have it."

Yeah, Baros would say that. Did he really think I wouldn't do that, anyway? That he cared more than I did? I'd lived and breathed this case for weeks. I'd nearly died for it. I was getting it out of Flynn if I had to turn him upside down and shake it out of him. "What did she do, your mother? Did she not spend enough time with you as a child? Did she send you to bed without any supper? Murder your favorite teddy bear?"

"Leave my mother out of this."

Not likely. "So was it just you, your mother, and Janessa? Or was there a Daddy Psycho as well?"

"I want to take a break." Flynn lifted his gaze to the one-way mirror. "I'm entitled to breaks and you haven't given me one for a while."

"He's hiding it," Kendrick said. "It's right there, but I can't quite get to it."

I said a silent prayer that those stationed outside the door hadn't gotten bored and wandered away. And I also apologized to my mother for the words about to come out of my mouth. I leaned forward and clicked my fingers. "I've got it. You and your mother had a sexual relationship, right? Did she fuck you before or after puberty?"

Even though I'd known it was coming, there was no avoiding the lunge across the table. Flynn's added weight had my chair crashing backwards, both of us going down with it. He straddled me again, his hands wrapped around my throat, the whole thing so familiar that I almost laughed. At least, we'd skipped the part with the baseball bat.

He squeezed, and I had a few seconds to ponder how quickly strangulation could occur before he was being dragged off me, the rush of oxygen back into my lungs leaving me feeling light-headed.

When Kendrick's voice came over the earpiece, I was panting too hard to make out what he said. "Say again," I said, my voice hoarse.

"Abigail O'Reilly," he said. "That's the name of Flynn's mother."