And in the process, she’d fallen in love and made a few new friends along the way.
Funny how life worked out sometimes.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
“That’s correct.Two first-class tickets, direct to Dubai on the next available flight.” Already late evening, Roland sat at his desk in the library speaking with a random travel agent at an agency he’d never used before. To minimize any potential risks, he didn’t dare use his own agent or even his personal assistant.
The fewer people to learn of his impending departure the better.
“Return date?”
“None. Flights will be one way.”
“Okay.” The clack of a keyboard sounded through the speaker. “Unfortunately, all direct flights are sold out for this weekend, but I can get you two first-class seats on the Monday morning Emirates flight. Will that do?”
“Yes. Please proceed.”
“Perfect. Name, date of birth, and passport number for traveler number one please.”
Roland shared the necessary information for both himself and Bryan and provided his Visa number.
“And do you require a hotel, sir? I can get you a better price if you bundle now.”
“No. Just the flights. Thank you.” After careful consideration of several upscale institutions for persons requiring unique care and assistance, Roland had chosen a facility located in the heart of the ultra-modern city and purchased a one-bedroom apartment nearby. The fact the United Arab Emirates had no extradition agreement with the United States weighed heavily in his decision-making.
Roland lived under no illusion as to whether the truth about what went on under the manor’s garage would out. In today’s technologically advanced world, very few people got away with murder. Even the most careful of killers made mistakes, the slightest of oversights landing many of them in his courtroom.
A smart man, Detective Vonn knew how to work the chinks in the LAPD’s law enforcement policies and procedures to his advantage. So far, he’d managed to escape detection while abducting and murdering women of all races, ages, and socio-economic backgrounds from the very streets he patrolled.
A psychopath at birth, Vonn had been disposing of his victims’ bodies long before he completed officer training at the Police Academy. Regardless of the role the Matthews had played in housing the abductees, the murders would have continued unabated.
Was it possible Vonn might have been discovered sooner were it not for the carefully controlled environment provided for by Roland? Perhaps. But not a regret he could afford to dwell on. He needed to get Bryan out of the country and safely placed in the Dubai Institute for Mental Wellness before Vonn located Eve or she came back of her own accord.
“Okay, sir, your tickets have been secured. You’ll receive them electronically at the email you provided. Departure from LAX on Monday at 7:45 a.m. direct to Dubai. Your confirmation number is nxy73e91642wd. Anything else I can assist you with today?”
“No. Thank you kindly.”
“My pleasure, sir. Enjoy your trip and have a good evening.”
“You as well.” Roland disconnected, and energy sapped, he slumped in his leather chair and closed his eyes.
Visions of Eve swam behind his closed lids as happy memories of his adopted daughter assaulted him. The pain of his failure knifed through skin and bone, leaving his breath ragged. He clutched at his chest, and his eyes popped open.
The soft glow of an heirloom Tiffany lamp drew his gaze to the pictures illuminated on the corner of his desk. The heavy pewter frames showcased happier times, and frozen smiles behind smooth glass mocked him.
He picked up the family portrait, taken when the children were in their early teens. Even then, Eve had been a bright jewel, her blue eyes projecting a wisdom and intelligence far beyond her years.
In contrast, Bryan paled by comparison. By the time they had sat for this picture, his paraphilic tendencies had already ruled his young life. From the discovery and official diagnosis of the sexual disorder after he exposed himself multiple times to the live-in housekeeper at the tender age of eight, he’d been a slave to the compulsion that drove him.
Didn’t matter the place, circumstances, or consequences, his urges overrode his reasoning and nothing they tried, cognitive behavioral therapy or assorted medications, improved his condition for long.
He was simply a prisoner of his affliction and oblivious to the harm he wreaked on so many unsuspecting women. Beverly had tried to help him. Lord, she had tried. Even going so far as to be the stand-in for when the urge to expose himself became unbearable. The tactic had worked in Bryan’s younger years and because they no longer kept live-in help, no one became the wiser.
Puberty changed things, however, and when exposing himself no longer quelled his urges, the palm cutting and masturbation had started. It had been Beverly who taught him to hide his condition, and the Matthews’ dirty little secret had stayed buried until her death.
Then the abductions started and the rest…
Well, the rest had escalated far beyond anything Roland ever anticipated.
