Rainey Nights Page 6

  Once again, television and movie portrayals of behavioral analysts were wrong. The BAU did not like to interview serial killers until after incarceration, because they had reason to lie before trial. Dalton had no reason to be anything but honest about his Virginia crimes, now. He was under the mistaken impression that once he was locked up for life, North Carolina would not be interested in spending the money to continue their investigation or hold a trial there. Rainey certainly did nothing to dispel this belief. In total, Dalton admitted to sexually assaulting and murdering eighteen young women over the course of three years and two states. It made Rainey sick to her stomach to feign interest in his long rambling descriptions of his crimes. She interviewed dozens of sadistic criminals and never felt the disgust she did for Dalton Chambers, but they needed to study him. What they learned from him could one day prevent or help solve future crimes. It was her job, but she didn’t have to like it. Today, she especially loathed being there.

  Rainey produced a smile and took a seat at the table. “How are you? Are you eating enough? You look tired.”

  Dalton sneered at the guard in the corner. “These fuckers won’t let me sleep. Rousting my cell in the middle of the night and I haven’t had my hour in the yard in a week.”

  Dalton’s muscular body had actually increased in size since his incarceration, partly due to getting and taking his medication on a regular basis. On the outside he saved his meds and took them in bunches, instead of daily as they were prescribed. The rage brought on by the exploitation of steroids was evident in his crimes. The drugs did not cause his actions. He simply used them as a tool to enforce his already sadistic fury. Now, he had nothing to do but exercise within his cell, where he was locked down for twenty-three hours a day, more if he misbehaved. He was allowed to shower three times a week and was supposed to get one hour in the tiny enclosed exercise yard every day, but that could be withheld if he broke the rules. Dalton had been misbehaving.

  Rainey knew Dalton was approaching that time in a prisoner’s life when the futility of his existence and the permanence of his situation set in. This time was usually accompanied by acting out. With no way to release his anger on his choice of victim, he demonstrated it by being less than a model prisoner. Rainey read the discipline reports during the helicopter ride from Quantico. Since she saw him last, two weeks ago, he had attacked a guard while being led to the shower, thrown feces at the doctor who came to check on him after the guards had to use physical force to remove him from the shower, and exposed himself to the facility nurse charged with administering his synthetic testosterone treatments. Rainey thought the testosterone should have been withheld, but the court ordered it for health reasons produced by his traumatic castration.

  Rainey answered Dalton’s whining with, “I’m sorry. I’ll see what I can do about that.”

  The guard in the corner of the room let out a short laugh.

  Dalton reacted. “See, these assholes are just looking for a chance to fuck with me. One of them told me I killed the warden’s cousin. Is that true? Was one of those girls kin to him, cause if that’s the case, then you guys better get me out of here.”

  The guards were having a joke at Dalton’s expense. Rainey tried not to laugh and instead answered, “No, I don’t think that’s true, but I’ll look into it just to make sure.”

  Danny snickered, drawing Dalton’s attention away from Rainey. He glared at Danny, momentarily showing his true colors. “Fuck you, McNally. You’re lucky I didn’t break your neck the last time you were here.”

  Danny smiled. “And you’re lucky the guards stepped in, because I would have saved the Commonwealth a lot of money keeping you alive for however many years you have left, before one of these other fine upstanding citizens in here shanks your ass.”

  The muscles in Dalton’s neck tensed, his temples began to pulsate, and his right eye twitched. He glanced at the guard with the black box. Rainey knew Dalton was contemplating what he could do to Danny before the voltage took him down. He relaxed back against the chair, after a moment, turning his attention back to Rainey. This was all part of the plan her team had come up with. Danny would get nowhere with his questions, but Rainey, who had gained Dalton’s trust, would. Evidently, he had forgotten his threats to kill her, or more likely, his psychopathic personality was trying to win her over, completing his need to make her a victim of his charm. The angrier he got with Danny, the more he reached out to her. Rainey took her cue.

  “Dalton, don’t make things worse.” She turned to Danny. “Agent McNally, maybe you should step out and compose yourself.”

  Danny made a show of being livid. He pushed his chair back violently and stormed towards the door. The guard on the outside spoke into his radio again and the door opened. Just before leaving, Danny turned back around.

  “We’ve got everything we need from this asshole. Don’t play his games, Rainey.”

  That was just it; they didn’t have all they needed. They had the how and why of his crimes, but they were sure not all of his victims. From the information they had so far, the team decided that Dalton fit the anger excitation rapist’s profile developed in the 1980’s, by some of the original behavioral analysts. Dalton got his sexual gratification from the victim’s suffering. He got off on inflicting excessive physical pain and psychological terror. He used a planned con game to gain his victim’s trust, initially charming and intelligent, only to become hostile and violent once he gained control. Like others who committed similar crimes, he often asked, “Do you like that, bitch,” while using bondage and torture during the prolonged sexual assaults. He was lethal after his initial years of maturation into a full-blown methodical, ritualistic murderer. Escaping this type of rapist was almost impossible. The women who encountered Dalton were doomed from the moment he met them. There were more similarities to the profile and Rainey knew them all.

  What they needed to know were the facts surrounding the first murder, a much younger victim than the others. The BAU was positive he committed the brutal slaying, but could not get him to admit it. Dalton had a good reason not to tell, whether he realized it or not. This murder occurred after his lengthy recovery from his own brutal beating. The crime scene photos showed a thirteen-year-old girl beaten beyond recognition, her body mutilated. Dalton had lost complete control of his anger with her. Even if she couldn’t get him to admit to the murder, Rainey was charged with finding out why that crime changed his behavior. Something about the murder shook him. It was followed by a two-year period where he seemed to have lost his nerve for killing.

  A string of unsolved sexual assaults ensued with no more bodies discovered. The victims reported being attacked from behind, stunned, and then beaten. The perpetrator wore a ski mask and became extremely violent when he could not complete the rape. While Dalton had no testicles, he did have a penis, although it was a bit malformed from the surgeries he had to endure. He could obtain an erection, but with great difficulty. When he began killing again, at age twenty-two, he used a dildo to complete the rapes. These crimes showed a criminal with much more control and the use of extensive planning. He was a mature killer at an earlier age than most serials. Since his injuries kept him from pursuing other distractions, he had nothing to do but fantasize and plan his crimes. He did not work. Instead, he lived off his moderately wealthy parents, who were just thankful he survived his own attack. They encouraged his work with the young Christians he claimed to be trying to save from the dark path of sin and debauchery, happily funding his “mission.”

  Rainey needed to be sure he didn’t actually commit murders during his two years of apparent down time. There were missing young women, but none they could tie specifically to him without his confession. Still, the families of the missing girls wanted answers. So did Rainey. Why did he modify his behavior during the later rape/murders? If he committed the assaults after he killed the first one, why did he start killing his victims? What changed? That was the question she most wanted answered.

  R
ainey knew she might never find out. Besides his unwillingness to talk about it, the fact was, this was her last trip to see Dalton at “The Onion.” They had already spent more time on interviews with him than most of the serial killers in the FBI database. Rainey remembered reading that John Douglas, one of the original Behavioral Analysts, said, “When you tell me we should keep someone like Bundy alive to study, I say, fine, keep him alive six hours longer; that’s all I need. I really don’t think we’re going to get much more beyond that.”

  When their supervisor told them that she and Danny would not be going back after today, Rainey was secretly elated. She’d had enough of Dalton Chambers to last a lifetime, but she couldn’t let him know that. Once Danny was out of the room, she began her final attempt to get some truth out of Dalton about the young girl and any of the other murders he was suspected of committing. If he admitted to the rapes, well, that was just icing on the cake.

  “Dalton, he’s gone now. Just focus on me. Don’t give the guards a reason to hurt you, okay?”

  Dalton took his focus from Danny in the hallway and moved his blue eyes back to Rainey. She watched his face reform from murderous intent to charming. In another life, he could have been a movie actor. He had the looks and the ability to transform into whatever he wanted others to see. Dalton was an actor of sorts, playing out his fantasies, as star and director of his own sick plot.

  Dalton smiled easily. “I don’t know how you work with that guy. You’re much too nice to have to deal with that every day and a whole lot better looking.”

  “Thank you, Dalton. It isn’t easy. He loses his temper so often, I wonder if he should be doing this job.” Rainey knew Danny could hear her through the speaker in the hall.

  Dalton made a show of deep concern. “You should ask to be given a new partner. You shouldn’t have to put up with him.”

  “I’ll do that. He really is a pain in the ass,” Rainey said, chuckling.

  “So, what do you want to talk about today, pretty lady?” Dalton was pouring on the charm, as if they were going to talk about the weather, not the heartless murders and rapes he committed.

  Rainey pretended that she was being forced to ask the questions. “I don’t really want to bring this up, because I know you don’t like to talk about it, but my supervisor insists that I get the answers to some questions. He said that if I didn’t get answers today, he is going to take me off the case.”

  “I don’t want to talk to anyone else. Tell him, I’ll refuse to see them. I requested you from the beginning, remember. The only reason I let McNally come today is because you were with him.”

  “I appreciate that, but I’m afraid it won’t do any good. The Special Agent in charge says there is no reason to send me back here, if I can’t get what he wants.”

  “If I answer just a few of his questions, will they let you come back? You’re the only person who comes to visit that I really want to see.”

  Rainey saw the opening and jumped. “What about your parents? Don’t you enjoy their visits?”

  Dalton displayed his uncanny ability to mimic real human emotion. Psychopaths could feel fear, anger, even sadness in the moment, but not remorse or guilt for what they’ve done or are about to do. He dropped his head, trying to appear ashamed. “I hate to see them. They are so hurt by this. I can’t stand to see my mother cry like that.”

  “You told me your relationship with your parents was good when you were growing up. Don’t let your mistakes ruin that.” Trivializing Dalton’s crimes as mistakes almost made Rainey choke. She tried to move the conversation toward her goal. Rainey lowered her voice and said, softly, “If we could just move on from this confession stage, put it behind you, and start the healing part of your recovery, I think you would feel better.”

  She saw his eyes measuring her. He whined, “If I tell you everything, you won’t come back. You would have no reason to come see me.”

  Rainey laughed faintly. “Oh Dalton, we will be studying you for years.” Which wasn’t a lie. They would study him, but they had nearly everything they needed and wouldn’t need to interview him anymore. She continued, “People will always want to come see you and ask questions. You’re one of the youngest, most successful serial murderers we’ve ever encountered. People want to know what turned such a nice boy into a killer. There will be thousands of words written about you. You are special.”

  This puffed Dalton’s ego sufficiently. “I would like to help in any way I can. If studying me helps prevent this from happening, at least I will have done some good. I don’t know why I turned out this way. I think my brain is wired differently than normal people.”

  “No question about that,” Rainey thought silently. Dalton didn’t give a rat’s ass about helping anyone. He was in it for what he could get out of it personally. She kept her feelings covered by saying, “I know, deep inside you are truly remorseful. You wouldn’t have helped us this much if you weren’t. I hope that we can help you come to terms with what triggered the change in you, so we can help you move on.”

  If Dalton truly loved anything, it was talking about himself. He responded, eagerly, “I’ve been thinking about that. My dad made me help slaughter cows at the ranch. Do you think that had anything to do with it?”

  Cattle ranchers slaughter cows every day and don’t turn out to be serial killers. Rainey knew Dalton was looking for an excuse to blame his behavior on someone else. She ignored his question with her own.

  “Did it excite you sexually when you participated in the slaughter?”

  “No, that’s sick. I didn’t like it. Too much blood.”

  Dalton was lying, again. Rainey interviewed his parents and siblings after his arrest. They reported that Dalton asked to participate at a very early age. He always got excited during slaughter time. He was extremely happy and agreeable afterwards.

  “But Dalton, your murders were bloody. Why do you think the blood didn’t bother you then?”

  Rainey watched as Dalton began to reminisce about his crimes. He visibly became more relaxed, sliding down in the chair, getting comfortable. He looked beyond Rainey, acquiring a glazed over quality to his eyes. Rainey knew he was reliving some young woman’s death, reveling in it, becoming sexually excited as he did. She had no choice but to let him.

  After a moment, Dalton began to speak. “When you chop off the head, the heart still beats for a while. It’s just a muscle. Without the brain, it has no idea that it’s supposed to be dead. The blood pumps out of the neck in spurts, like the body’s gettin’ off, you know. It settles down to oozing in just a minute or two.”

  Rainey didn’t react. He was trying to get her to show fear or horror, his favorite emotions from a woman, but that would turn the game they played. He would then focus all his energy on terrifying her and be less likely to tell her anything of value that she and her team didn’t already know.

  In the same tone she would use in a casual conversation, Rainey asked, “Did you do anything with the blood? Your mother told me she found you with blood smeared on your face and hands after a slaughter. You told her it was something you saw on TV, some ancient ceremony to thank God for his gift of the beef. That wasn’t true, was it?”

  Instead of being upset that Rainey knew this about him, Dalton smiled. “She came up after I had put my clothes back on. I was twelve. I had been running naked in the pasture, covered in blood from head to toe.” He laughed at the memory and then continued, “I was walking to the river to wash off my body when she found me. I had to make something up. She’s so religious, if I told her it was in the glory of God, she would have let me cut her head off.”

  Rainey carefully worded her response. “So, what you said earlier about there being too much blood, that wasn’t true either. Come on, Dalton. I thought we were beyond your lying to me. I want to help you, remember?” Rainey paused, and then began again. “You were the All-American kid, with the idyllic life. Tell me when it changed. When did you know you were different, special?”

&nb
sp; Rainey was leading him to the first murder. Dalton no more wanted help than he wanted to be in prison. If he could, he would leave today and begin killing tomorrow. A true psychopath, when asked if he would like to be cured, would say, “Cured from what?” Dalton didn’t think there was anything wrong with him. He couldn’t care less about the victims or Rainey. They were all the same, just things that crossed his path. Remorse was a foreign concept to Dalton. His ego, however, was inflated. He believed himself to be smarter than anyone he met. He believed he was steering the conversation he was having at the moment. Rainey let him think that and fed his ego, keeping him off balance enough to show her his real thoughts.

  Dalton took the bait. “I knew early that I was smart, around nine or ten, I think. I found out pretty young that I could talk my way out of stuff. People are really stupid, you know. Like my mom, I could tell her anything and she believed me. Dad wasn’t so easy to get around, but then mom would convince him he was wrong. I kept my secrets to myself, so no one ever suspected me.”

  “Your secrets, like why you covered yourself in blood?”

  Dalton was distracted by his own thoughts and answered without thinking. “I did that with the girls, too.”

  This was new information. Rainey took advantage of Dalton’s willingness to talk about it. “So this part of your ritual came to you early, before you actually started killing the women you raped?”