Page 23 of Branded Souls (Ember Hollow Romance #3)

Skye

I had thirty minutes.

It wasn’t enough time to do justice to an interview that very well could be a defining moment in my career. But it was more than I could’ve ever imagined.

Interviews with alleged serial killers didn’t usually happen like this.

They didn’t get approved virtually overnight.

Graham had been right. The prosecutor was on board and had pulled some strings to get me into the regional detention center.

I think they hoped to get him saying something incriminating they could use at trial.

Within forty-eight hours of learning that the Shadow Stalker wanted to speak with me, I was sitting alone in a freezing room, staring at a row of plexiglass booths.

There were six total in this white-painted cinderblock room. Only one was occupied. Mine.

Fox had come with me for the three-hour drive. Ember Hollow didn’t have a jail close enough that could handle someone as potentially dangerous as the man I was about to meet. But Fox hadn’t been allowed in this room with me.

The Shadow Stalker specifically requested that I come alone to speak with him. No cameras. No backup. Just me, an approved recording device, and my questions.

To say Fox hated that was an understatement. He fought me for two full days. He’d argued. Glared. Shut down. Then argued again.

I knew it was coming from a good place. And part of me—a part that I had hidden very deep down inside myself—liked that he wanted to fight for my safety. That he seemed to really care.

But I still wouldn’t budge, not even for him.

This was more than a story to me now. This was more than another interview for the documentary.

This was personal.

Not only did this man terrorize my hometown for decades, but there was also Jane Doe, who was potentially my mother.

Maybe my father had killed her. Maybe the Shadow Stalker had nothing to do with it. But all of it circled around him, and if there was even the smallest chance he could give me something—anything—I had to take it.

A loud, grating buzz made me jump in the plastic chair. On the other side of the plexiglass, a door swung open. My stomach dropped, but I pulled my shoulders back. I had to be brave. Professional. Focused.

The monster stepped through the doorway, his arms and feet shackled with chains that rattled with each movement.

His dark stare instantly met mine. A chill crawled down my spine as something more than dread wrapped around my heart. I was looking into the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. Someone who took life without remorse.

I felt the presence of evil as he took a seat on the opposite side of the glass. Two guards flanked him, and they stayed there.

He was older than I’d realized. I’d known he was in his fifties, but he’d aged even from the time of his arrest. His salt-and-pepper hair looked more silver. His face was thinner, gaunt. Detainment did not suit the once wealthy man.

Technically, he was still a wealthy man. Which was another reason why I was so surprised that he’d want to talk to me. He had some of the best lawyers money could buy. I was sure they’d advised against this.

The Shadow Stalker tilted his head to the side.

It took every ounce of self-restraint not to flinch away from him. I waited a beat, to see whether he would talk first. I gripped the note cards I’d made to keep me on track with my questions.

“You seem nervous,” he mused, his deep voice drifting through the speaker on my side of the glass.

I shook my head. “Not nervous at all.”

There was a glint in his eye. A flash of a smile that had me wanting to squirm in my seat.

“I’d beg to differ.” When I didn’t react to that, he continued, “I’ve heard you’re working quite closely with my lovely Emersyn.” He leaned forward, the chains at his wrists rattling as he placed his hands on the counter between us.

A blink was the only indication of surprise I let him have. I had no idea how he knew that Emersyn and I were working together. It was probably the same person who informed him of my documentary. But if he had brought me here to talk about her, he would be very disappointed.

“When you hear the name the Shadow Stalker in the news, what goes through your mind?” I asked the first question written on my note cards. Something that could be innocuous. An easy question to break the ice.

He lifted his chin slightly, looking at me from down his nose. “Nothing,” he finally said.

“Nothing?” Out of all the things he could have said, I hadn’t expected that. “Can you explain?”

He sat up straighter, shrugged a shoulder like this was a casual conversation between friends. “It’s a name the media invented to make sense of something they didn’t understand. It’s easier for people to sleep at night when evil has a name…and a face.”

“Are you that face?” I asked, not a hint of waver or fear.

I could do this.

His brows shot up. “What do you think?”

My heart rate escalated, and I wasn’t entirely sure why. The look on his face seemed both calculating and vacant. Emotionless, but cunning.

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” I replied. “I’m interested in what you have to say.”

“I have no intention of playing their boogeyman.” He glanced down at my hands holding the note cards. “Next question.”

I flipped to the next card, not because I needed it, but to give myself a second to breathe.

“If the media got it wrong,” I lifted my gaze back to him, “what story should they have told? ”

His handcuffs clinked on the dirty white laminate as he steepled his fingers. “I’m not a monster.”

I let the silence stretch for a beat. “Some people think that you are.”

“Because monsters make headlines. They make money. But the truth?” He tilted his head.

“The truth is messy. It doesn’t sell. It doesn’t scare people in the same satisfying way.

” He paused, eyes narrowing. “But you already know that, don’t you?

You’re in the business of packaging trauma.

Editing it for consumption and making it… enticing.”

I bit back a defense as his words landed hard. “Tell me the truth then.” I kept my voice even and unbothered. “What really happened?”

A slow, sharp smile crept into his face. “I won’t confess to something I didn’t do.” He shook his head. “Skye, I’m not the villain in this story. But the second someone points a finger, all the world wants is blood.”

“You’re saying you were wrongly accused?”

That smile fell. A cold mask slipped over his face.

“I didn’t kill anyone.” He leaned forward again, and I resisted the urge to jerk back.

“You talk to me because I’m locked up in here.

But the real monsters?” He lifted his hands, chains chiming as he tapped a finger once against the plexiglass. “They’re out there. With you.”

A cold weight settled in my stomach. I couldn’t tell whether he was threatening me or warning me. The likely answer was that he was just trying to scare me.

A guard barked a warning, and he pulled back from the glass, but his attention never wavered from me.

My grip tightened on the note cards, and I willed my fingers not to tremble. He wanted a reaction, that was clear. I couldn’t give him one. I couldn’t indulge in whatever the hell this man was trying to do. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t take the bait .

“Why do you think people are so eager to believe you did it?”

His expression darkened. He didn’t quite look angry…more annoyed. Frustrated. “People are sheep. They follow where they are led. It’s easy.”

“So you think people are unintelligent? That they can’t think for themselves?”

His lips lifted into something more like a sneer than a smile.

“I think people are prey animals. They do what they think is safe. They follow the herd so they won’t be singled out.

They don’t want to be seen.” Something like excitement sparked in his eyes.

“Like you, for example. You don’t like being seen, do you? ”

My brow knitted with confusion. I didn’t want to engage in any tangents, but I also wanted to understand.

“I make a living showing my face to hundreds of thousands of people. I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of being seen.” My tone was matter-of-fact, trying to not let my emotions slip in.

“But that’s not the same, is it?” he murmured. “You show them what you want them to see. A polished version. Edited. Scripted. That’s not being seen, Skye. That’s being in control.”

It felt as though he’d punched me through the glass. The truth in his statement was like hitting a tuning fork on a raw nerve. My fingers curled tighter around the cards, the paper bending under the pressure.

“Why did you ask for this interview?” I said, thankful that my voice didn’t quiver.

His gaze felt like it was burrowing right into me. Dissecting me, layer by layer. I wouldn’t react, but inside I was squirming.

He opened his mouth, sliding his tongue quickly over his teeth in a way that had my skin crawling. “Maybe I wanted to see a pretty face for once. ”

Bile burned the back of my throat. “I’m a little old for your taste, aren’t I?” I took the jab before I could stop myself. “You’re more into the college-aged girls, right?”

Tension stiffened his shoulders. His lips pressed into a tight line.

When he spoke, his voice was lower and clipped.

“You think you have me all figured out, right? I’m the predator.

The bad guy. The subject of your little documentary.

” He gave a soft, bitter laugh. “I just feel bad for the victims.”

I didn’t know he was capable of feeling anything. “Do you?”

He nodded. “Oh, yes. If you think about it, they’ll never get justice, will they?” His brows rose. “Either the state convicts an innocent man, or I’m exonerated. The families will never get answers they have been looking for and…” He looked away.

I waited. I didn’t flinch. I almost didn’t breathe. “And what?” I prodded.

His gaze slid back to mine, dead and cold as steel. “And who’s to say there aren’t more of them out there? Ones who’ve never been found. No names. No faces. Just people who seemed to disappear into the void, never to be heard about again.”

My entire body went still—except my heart. It raged against my ribs, making them ache. My mouth went dry as I looked down at my cards, trying to orient myself and get away from that dark stare that seemed to see too much.

Again, it felt like he knew something he shouldn’t. A sheen of sweat broke out on my skin and I prayed he didn’t notice.

Focus .

My note cards were useless. I could barely even comprehend the words I had written down. He’d brought us here, and now I had to take advantage of it.

When I finally forced myself to look back up at him, some of the deadness had left his eyes. There was a flicker of curiosity there.

“Do you think there’s a lot of those?” I asked, my voice thick and slightly hoarse. I internally winced. “Victims who have never been found?”

He lifted one shoulder. “I wouldn’t know, would I?”

I clenched my jaw. “Hypothetically, if there was a woman who had been found in rural Ohio near a known dumping ground for a serial killer… Say she was slightly older than the usual victims and killed earlier than said serial killer’s known active date…

do you think she was a victim of his? Or merely a coincidence? ”

His eyes widened a fraction. For the first time, he shifted his weight on the metal chair, rolling his neck from one shoulder to the other. “Hypothetically…” he said quietly. “What would this woman have looked like?”

I didn’t want to, but reluctantly I described my mother.

He pulled in a deep breath through his nose. “Well, it sounds like she looked a lot like you…” His expression flashed. “Which means she must’ve been a pretty little thing. I could see why she would’ve been targeted by—a monster.”

My stomach clenched, and I was glad I hadn’t eaten anything yet today because I might’ve puked it up.

Before I could reply, he laughed. “But unfortunately, I wouldn’t know how to help you with your—hypothetical.” He arched a knowing brow. “Because I’m not a killer.”

My hands went numb as the guards announced that time was up.

I shook my head, dazed. “No. It can’t be time yet.”

But the guards were already getting him to his feet.

He smiled wider than ever before. “Perhaps we can talk again, pretty Skye.” He winked.

My lip wobbled as tears burned. I couldn’t let him win, but I couldn’t keep myself together. I wanted to say something, to ask one more question, but the officers had already turned him around. The next thing I knew, they ushered him out of the same metal door he had come through.

And then he was gone.