Dead Even Part 12

"Unger mentioned that you and Channing had corresponded at one time," Miranda said.

"I was about to get to that, yes. Actually, it was a bit one-sided at first." He paused as Regan came into the room with a tray. "Do you need help with that?"

"No, thanks." She set the tray on the table that stood between the chair in which he sat and the sofa. She proceeded to pour tea and pa.s.s out cups.

"Yes, I received my first letter from Channing about six or seven years ago. Right after the publication of The Killer Next Door. The Killer Next Door."

"I remember that book," Will told him as Regan handed him an ice-filled gla.s.s and a bottle of spring water. He thanked her and continued. "It followed the careers of several serial killers who had committed most of their murders right under the noses of their unsuspecting neighbors."

"Yes." Landry nodded. "People always seem to have this idea that serial murderers are evil-looking men whose very appearance gives them away. The truth is, there is no type; there is no look. It can be-and often is-the boy next door."

"In every case-at least, in every case you wrote about in that book-when the arrests were made, the neighbors all said, 'But he was such a nice young man. . . .' "

"Exactly the point of the book," Landry told him.

"Why did Channing write to you?" Miranda asked.

"Because he'd read the book. He said that at first he'd picked it up because he thought perhaps there was some connection, some psychic nonsense-my middle name happens to be Channing-that our having the same name was a sign that he should read the book. Later I realized he probably meant, his being a serial killer, and my studying, writing about them."

"He told you he was a killer?" Miranda's eyebrows rose.

"No, no. It wasn't difficult to figure out over time, though. Of course, by the time I figured it out, he'd disappeared." Landry stirred his tea absently. "The first letter, he took me to task, telling me where I'd gotten it all wrong."

"Where you'd gotten what all wrong?"

"I delved quite deeply into the backgrounds of the four men I'd written about, which, of course, one would have to do if one was looking to explain such violent, aberrant behavior. All of these men were from terribly abusive homes, and had all either run away from home or had been shoved out of the nests by the time they were in their early teens. I stressed environment as the determining factor in making them what they had become."

"And Channing disagreed?" Will asked.

"Channing believed you were born bad and stayed bad. That environment played no part," Landry explained.

"He must have been in denial." Miranda set her cup on the saucer. "You'd think that coming from his background-where his own mother had traded him, as a very young child, for drugs-he'd know d.a.m.ned well what part environment played."

"Ah, but he never mentioned any of that to me. He spoke of his parents as exemplary folks, loving, kind. Perfect parents," Landry said.

"Those would have been his foster parents," Miranda told him. "They knew of his background and made every effort to help him overcome it. They were, by all accounts, wonderful people. But by the time he'd gotten to them, he'd been irreparably broken."

"Of course, I didn't know that at the time." Landry nodded. "It certainly explains a lot. He was very adamant that I did not know what I was talking about and insisted that I should write another book and admit I was wrong."

"How many times did he write to you?" Will asked.

"Several times, but he stopped writing when I started asking him questions about how he knew so much about the criminal mind. I invited him here to chat, offered to give him an opportunity to explain his point of view, but I never heard from him again. After a time, I just chalked him up as a crazy and forgot about him," Landry said. "Then, a few months ago, I read about his long life of crime, and I looked up the letters-"

"You still have the letters?" Miranda appeared surprised.

"Yes. I don't know why I kept them, frankly. Must have subconsciously suspected I'd hear of him again."

"May we see them?" Will asked.

"Certainly. They're in my office." He started to get up, and Regan stopped him.

"I'll get them, Dad. I know exactly where they are." She turned to Miranda and Will and said, "I've reviewed them several times over the past few weeks, ironically, in preparation for a new book."

"R. J. Landry," Will said. "You've cowritten several books with your father."

"Yes." Regan nodded and appeared to be pleased by the recognition. "I'll be right back with the letters."

"She's the real brains." Landry tilted his head in his daughter's direction. "Much better writer, much cleaner insights. Sharper instincts . . ."

Regan rolled her eyes and laughed as she left the room.

"Now, tell me, what exactly are you looking for in Channing's letters?" Josh Landry ran a hand through his thick white hair. "I mean, the man is dead, and I can a.s.sure you he never mentioned a thing about having killed anyone. I would, of course, have gone straight to the police had he done so."

"We're sure you would have, Mr. Landry, but the truth is, we're not investigating an old murder. We're trying to prevent a future one," Miranda told him. "Let me explain . . ."

She proceeded to tell him about the unholy trio who had put into play a game that required each man to kill three people who had, in some way, been a thorn in the side of one of the others.

"Hmmmm." Landry stroked his chin, his eyes bright as he contemplated the scenario. "So you think this last fellow, this Lowell, is going to kill three people named by Channing. Interesting."

Regan came back into the room carrying a red file, which she handed over to Miranda.

"Most of the letters are here," Regan told her. "There are several others we're still looking for. I think a few might have been misplaced when Dad hired a new secretary. She moved some files around, and there are some things still missing. But these will give you a start."

"Thank you." Miranda opened the folder.

"This Lowell . . . you say he's not the killer type?" Landry directed the question to Will.

"We certainly didn't think so. At least, not until Al Unger was murdered," Will replied. "Even our profiler believed that Lowell wouldn't play it out."

"Wait a minute. What did I miss?" Regan asked. "Who is Lowell?"

"Archer Lowell," Miranda said, and repeated the connection of Lowell to Channing.

"Three killers?" Regan's eyebrows raised, and she glanced at her father. "There's a story for you."

"Indeed. I admit to being intrigued by what Agent Cahill has shared with us. Now, back to this Lowell fellow. You were saying that your profiler thought he wasn't the killer type. Most people are repelled by the notion of killing, you know. Most normal people, anyway."

"According to the reports I've heard, Lowell was definitely repelled by the photographs of Giordano's victims," Miranda told him as she skimmed the contents of the file.

"Then I suppose it needs to be determined what could have coerced this young man to kill," Landry noted. "If in fact he did kill Albert Unger. You're certain there was no fourth player?"

"As far as we know, there are only the three involved."

"Hmmm. Certainly a lot to think about. A real puzzle to be solved." Landry looked pleased at the prospect.

"Mr. Landry-" Miranda looked up from the letter she was reading "-Channing says in this letter, 'You need to tell it the way it is. You set it straight, or someday I will set you straight. I hate people like you who think you know, when you don't know. You talk about these things like they are truth, but you do not know the truth. You are getting rich telling lies. My mother always said that liars are found out. Maybe someone should find you out and show you the truth. Maybe someday I will. . . .' "

Miranda held the letter up. "Does that sound like a threat to you?"

"Not really." Landry shrugged. "Besides, Channing is dead and . . ." He paused for a moment, then said, "Oh. I see. You're wondering if maybe mine was one of the three names?"

"The thought is crossing my mind."

"What an intriguing idea. Me, a victim."

Regan looked up sharply.

"Dad, I don't think you should be so cavalier. If this man was part of this killing club, and there's reason to believe that you might have been singled out-"

Landry waved a hand as if to dismiss her. "Those letters were written six or seven years ago. I'd be surprised if Channing even remembered writing them," Landry told her. "And I'd be surprised if this was all that important to him even when he wrote them."

"It's been thirty years since Unger killed Channing's mother," Regan reminded him. "And Unger's now dead."

"True, but that's entirely different. According to the news reports I read, Channing watched from a closet as Unger murdered his mother. He was eight years old at the time. Of course he would harbor a long-term resentment."

"Not for the reason you might think," Will said. "He told our profiler he hated Unger for killing his mother because he, Channing, had wanted to kill her himself."

"Oh." Landry mulled over this information. "That might put just a slightly different spin on things."

"Mr. Landry, we're trying to locate people who we think might have angered Channing at some point in his life. It sounds from those letters that your books set him off."

"Well, then, supposing you're right, Agent Fletcher. What do you suggest we do about it?" Landry's daughter's eyes clouded with worry.

"I think the first thing we need to do is get your local police involved," Miranda said. "And we need to a.s.sess your security here."

"I a.s.sure you my security system is top of the line. I have all faith in it." Landry smiled and added, "As for the local police, well, let's just say I have more faith in my alarm system, and we'll leave it at that."

"There's always private security, Dad. You can always hire someone."

Landry made a face. "I think you're getting a bit carried away, honey."

"And I think you're being a little too c.o.c.ky about the possibility of your name being on a hit list. It isn't a game, Dad."

"Oh, but apparently that's exactly what it is." Landry appeared unfazed.

"Any other red flags in those letters?" Will asked Miranda.

"No. It's interesting, though, that he wrote at least one of them right around the time I interviewed him about the Ohio murders." Miranda pa.s.sed the file on to Will.

"The Ohio murders?" Landry turned his attention from his daughter to Miranda.

"About six years ago, there was a series of murders in southern Ohio. Several suspects were picked up. Channing was one of them. I interviewed him, couldn't get a thing from him, so we had to let him go. But at the time, he just gave me the feeling that . . ." Her voice trailed off.

"That he was involved?" Landry completed the thought for her.

"Yes. But it was my first case, and I didn't know at the time if I just had unusually good instincts, or if I was seeing things that weren't there because I wanted to crack the case. I just hadn't learned to trust myself then."

"These are the cases that were recently linked to Channing through DNA, the ones I read about in the paper?" Landry asked.

"Yes," Miranda said.

"So your instincts were right on, after all." Landry leaned over and patted her arm.

"Fat lot of good it did us." Miranda shook her head. "After he was interviewed, he disappeared."

"So you scared him off," Landry noted. "You could possibly have saved the lives of several unsuspecting women."

"Only to put others in jeopardy," Miranda replied. "We now know that later that same year he killed four women in Kentucky, and several other women in other locales. There are probably more. We're still piecing his movements together."

"Well, then, it appears you may have stymied him at a critical time. Stopped his forward motion, so to speak. I doubt he'd have been too happy with you at the time." Joshua Landry leaned forward, his arms resting on his thighs. "As a matter of fact, I imagine it would have made him quite angry. Aren't you just a bit worried, Agent Cahill?"

"Worried about what?" Miranda frowned.

"Worried that perhaps your name is on that list as well."

CHAPTER NINE.

"So what did you think of him?" Will asked as he settled into the front seat of Miranda's car.

"Landry? I liked him," she replied. "I liked him a lot. The daughter, too. She seems pretty sharp, don't you think?"

"Sharper than the old man, in some respects. But I liked him. I hope we're wrong." He hesitated for a moment. "I hope he's wrong."

"About what?"

"About Channing being p.i.s.sed at you."

"I doubt Channing ever gave me another thought once he'd left that interview room. I can't think of one good reason why he would."

"Well, as Landry pointed out, you did stop his forward motion."

"You think it made a difference to him? He just moved on and started over." She turned on the ignition and backed the car out of its spot near the barn. "Now, Joshua Landry, he's a different story. You read those letters. Landry really had old Curtis p.i.s.sed off."

"You think he's taking this seriously?"

"Not as seriously as Regan is."

"That was my impression, too."

"He did seem almost amused by the prospect of a killer coming after him, didn't he?" She shook her head. "Writers. Every one I've ever met has been just a little off, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah. But I feel better knowing that the local police will be keeping an eye on things."