“Someone as dangerous as Valentine had to pretend to be normal.” Byron had spent a good portion of his life hiding in plain sight. While he didn’t go the quiet, unassuming, Clark Kent route, his aww shucks charm, small business owner shtick, and sex appeal were also camouflage. “What did you two do together?”
“I didn’t fuck him if that’s what you’re drivin’ at.”
“Not at all.” Byron had no right to judge anyone on their sexual proclivities. “We’re just tryin’ to get a sense of what happened.”
“Oh.” She crumbled under the weight of his stare. Juliet wrapped her arms around herself as though she were freezing to death. “I try to tell myself, at least he didn’t take my virginity from me too.”
“Because intercourse isn’t what arouses him.” Jane’s lips flattened.
Her swallow was audible. “No, he likes other things.”
“Pain, control. I didn’t know what he was capable of.” Jane shivered.
“And now you do?” Juliet asked Jane.
“It’s come to my attention.”
Byron shot her a warning look. She was this close to divulging too much.
“Has it?” She smirked. “Well, since you wanna know, allow me to give you an eye-witness account. You need to learn even more about your client. We used to play these games. At the time, I didn’t think anythin’ of it, but I see it in a different light now.”
“What kind of games?” Byron was almost afraid to ask.
“Weird stuff. We’d float face down in the lake together, holding our breath—like two bodies.”
Jane gasped.
“After we drifted for a while, he’d pull me onto dry land. He liked how cold my skin was, how blue. And he’d get horny as fuck, but we didn’t ever finish it.”
Disgustin’. The only way Valentine could get it up was to simulate drowning someone. Byron wanted to take this asshole out. The dickhead didn’t deserve a trial. He’d earned a shallow grave and a couple of bullets. If only Jane would give him the green light.
“Together, I mean. He took matters into his own hands.”
“Did Valentine have a crush on Betsy? Did he play any games with her?” Jane asked.
“Well, she was a blonde on the swim team. What the fuck do you think? Of course, he panted after her.”
“Why does he have a fixation with blondes?” Jane asked, smooth as silk.
Jane didn’t take Juliet’s aggression personally. Byron figured she’d probably dealt with clients and witnesses who’d lashed out all the time.
“The woman his daddy was fuckin’ on the side was a blonde. Might have somethin’ to do with it.”
Byron was grateful Jane didn’t resemble the rest of Valentine’s victims. “Which is why you colored your hair.” It wasn’t a question, and Byron couldn’t say he blamed her.
“Yeah, the last thing on earth I wanna be is a motherfuckin’ blonde.”
“What happened to his parents? And his brother, for that matter? I tried to contact them numerous times for character witness statements, but they never responded to my requests. According to their passport records, none of them had returned to the United States since they left, which is also strange.”
Juliet shrugged. “I heard rumors— the family moved to Europe to get away from the notoriety or, more likely, to get away from Oscar. I didn’t pay much attention because I was busy tryin’ to forget about him.” She bit her lower lip. “After…it happened, everythin’ fell into place.”
“Tell us, please.” Byron hoped she was in more of a sharing mood now.
For a long time, she sat there, not acknowledging the question, but she started to speak.
“Fine, if you want to know so bad, I’ll tell you. One night, when his parents were out and the house was quiet, Oscar invited me over. But we didn’t watch a movie or study. Oscar had gotten into his dad’s bourbon and he’d been lookin’ at porn, but it wasn’t Playboy stuff, it was twisted. I remember this one picture. It was a woman and her nipples had been pierced with a nail.” She shuddered. “What the fuck is that?”
Jane was solemn. “Please tell us the rest.”
“This time, he wasn’t respectful. He attacked me.” Her tone was cool and clipped. “Oscar slashed my wrists with his pocket knife.” She unsnapped the leather wristbands and rubbed the faded scars.
“Let me see.” Before she could protest, he gripped a wrist. The scar tissue was thick, leaving raised lines on her flesh. “Damn, those must’ve been deep.”