“The main event,” Julia said.
“Do you know a woman named Lana Ortega?” Novak asked.
“No, should I?” Carson asked.
“Where were you on Tuesday night?”
“I was in California at a convention. I travel to promote the site, which brings in new customers both here and especially online. Keeping both my passions afloat takes work. Again, why are you here?”
“I think your site might have inspired someone to resurrect the Hangman,” Julia remarked.
Carson held up his hands. “I don’t like the direction this is headed.”
“What direction is that, Vic?” Novak asked.
His eyes narrowed. “I read the news and listen to the scanners. A woman was found in the warehouse district. Was she strung up?” His eyes glistened with interest.
“Does the idea of that excite you?” Novak asked.
“It’s strictly business for me, Detective,” Carson said. “If a new Hangman case emerges, it will be a boon to my business. And before you ask, none of my subscribers mentioned the killing to me. Besides, the bulk of my patrons simply have a fascination with death. They’re harmless.”
“Do you have a list of these followers?” Julia asked.
“You have a warrant?” Carson replied.
“You sell rope out front?” Julia fired back.
“Sure. It’s a novelty item. All of it can be bought in any hardware store.” He studied Julia. “I’ve watched news footage of your old man. Intense like you. Reminded me of a wound spring. I guess not a huge surprise when he shot himself. Is this discussion now your effort to clear his name? There are still plenty of people who thought he was the Hangman.”
“You have theories about the Hangman that you wrote about on your blog?” Novak asked.
“Sure. Who doesn’t?”
“Enlighten me,” Novak said.
Carson shrugged. “Any profiler will tell you the Hangman killings were more than murder. The killings were a statement, a form of art. He likes to be noticed. My guess is if this body you found is displayed like the others, he’s feeling irrelevant. Forgotten.”
“Irrelevant?” Julia asked.
“For whatever reason, he stopped killing, but with the silver anniversary approaching and people like me ginning up interest, he discovers he wants to be noticed again. Tuesday night would have been Halloween, and Jim Vargas died on November 1.”
“You sound like you know him pretty well,” Julia said.
“Hard not to seeing as I’ve crawled in his head enough times.”
Julia’s expression didn’t change. “How did you get hold of the video footage shot at the original crime scenes?”
Novak watched Carson closely, and the subtle tightening of the man’s left hand and the micro shift in his gaze told Novak that Julia had struck gold.
Carson smiled. “Footage was sent to me. Like manna from heaven. I couldn’t pass on it. Which one of you pulled it off my site?”
“Who sent it to you?” Novak asked.
“A fan. I received a CD in the mail. Old-school, but effective. And I can put it back up.”
“So you still have the CD?” Novak asked. “I’d like to see it.”
“Again, I need you to get a warrant.”
“I’ll get one,” Novak said.
“Until you do, you both need to leave. I have work to do.”
“I’m asking you to not upload the video again,” Novak said.
“Freedom of speech,” Carson said.
“When I came in here,” Julia said carefully, “it was strictly a fact-finding mission. But it’s growing more personal for you by the second. If I find out you’re hiding the identity of the killer, I’ll charge you as an accessory to murder.”
“Is that a threat?” Carson asked.
“Nope,” she said, smiling. “It’s a statement of fact.”
He folded his arms. “And you two can count on one thing.”
“What’s that?” Julia asked.
“He’s going to kill again.”
“Why do you say that?” Novak asked.
“One death of a woman nobody cared about falls out of the news quickly. Two deaths, a little harder to ignore, and three—well, that’s a pattern no one can overlook.”
Julia was quiet during the drive back to her place. Seeing Carson’s callous infatuation with death shouldn’t have troubled her so deeply, but it did. Lately she was all raw nerves. When Novak suggested he drive her home and she retrieve her car from the station in the morning, she’d agreed.
When Novak parked, she reached for the door handle. “Keep me updated.”
He turned toward her but made no move to stop her. “I’m an open book.”
A smile formed on her lips. “Written in what ancient language?”
White teeth flashed in the dark. “Pot calling the kettle black, Julia.”
“No arguments here. Maybe keeping our personal secrets is best.”
“Why do you say that?” His tone turned low, deep, serious.
“The truth has a way of spoiling things, so I tend to avoid it.”
“There’s no hope without truth. It’s ugly, but it’s better to know.”
She shook her head as she shifted her gaze to a point in the distance. A part of her wanted to talk to him. Confess her fears. Bare her scars. But that part was overruled by too many well-seasoned barriers. “Be careful what you ask for.”
This time he laid a hand on her shoulder. “What truth are you hiding, Julia?”
For a second, she was quiet as she absorbed the heat of his touch. Here, alone with him, she thought maybe she could be more herself. Not be so on guard. But as she lowered the veil, she caught herself. “Nothing too interesting.”
He was taking her in. “You’re interesting to me.”
She arched a brow. “That’s because you want to get laid again.”
He didn’t break contact. “Guilty as charged.”
She liked his touch. It was steady. Nonthreatening. Gentle. “If you promise not to talk about feelings, you can come up.”
He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. When she leaned into the kiss, his hand went to her waist. “Let’s go upstairs.”
He’d made no promises about the long term. Neither had she. But that was good. Better that way. “Right.”
He shut off the ignition and followed her up the back staircase to her apartment. Desire tingled in her as she tossed her keys aside and turned to face him. He didn’t rush toward her, though she sensed a simmering heat that hinted at how much he wanted her.
She dropped her purse to the floor and shrugged off her jacket. “I’m not made of china, Novak.”
He closed the distance between them and cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her again. There was nothing angry or punishing about his touch. He wanted her to want this. She threaded her fingers through his hair and pressed her breasts to his chest.
“This is all I’ve been able to think about since the last time,” he said.
“One-track mind.”