Throughout high school, Claire spent quite a bit of time with our neighbor, Mrs. Young, who was notorious for her obsession with true crime. Apparently, she passed that on to my sister.
“It was pretty popular,” Ethan continued. “It’s how we met. She needed help researching some of the topics she covered on her show. I used to be a fraud investigator for insurance companies.”
“Sounds thrilling.”
He snorted at the sarcasm in my voice. “Not really. Which was why I was more than eager to help Claire. Do something more exciting than track down an antique piece of jewelry some rich asshole claimed was stolen, only to learn he’d sold it on the black market. For all the money those pricks have, you’d think they’d be able to afford the sense to not make it so easy to catch them committing a crime. But if they were, I’d be out of a job.” He laughed nervously.
“So… This podcast… You said she was working on something for it?”
“I tried to tell her not to. That it wasn’t worth it. But when Claire made up her mind, no one could convince her to back down.”
A nostalgic smile lifted my lips. I knew that all too well. “You’re right about that.” I stared into the distance for a moment, then returned my hardened expression to his. “So what was she working on?”
“It all started about four or five months ago. People often wrote to the show with requests of topics they’d like her to cover. If she got enough of the same one, she’d look into it. While researching one of these requests, she was convinced she found a connection to what happened to Piper, your ex-girlfriend.”
“I know who Piper is,” I barked out.
“Of course you do. I just…”
He glanced at the bat still in my hand. “Do you mind putting that down? I’ve seen what you can do with the right pitch, and it’s kind of freaking me out.”
I hesitated, then relented, leaning the bat against the bench. “One wrong move, and I pick it back up.”
“Not to worry. I want justice for Claire, just like you do.”
Content with his assurance, I nodded, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Tell me about this case she was looking into.”
He shook his head. “Probably one of the creepiest fuckers we ever covered on the show. Not because he was this brutal serial killer who inflicted intense bodily harm on his victims, but because he’d managed to kill each of his victims by proxy.”
“Proxy?” I scrunched my brows, dropping my arms. “What the bloody hell does that mean? He hired someone? Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of being a serial killer? Aren’t they supposed to get off on killing or something?”
“No. He didn’t hire anyone. But every single one of his victims died by taking their own lives.”
My heart plummeted to the pit of my stomach, a chill washing over me as I recalled the story of Lucretia.
“That’s why he’s often considered one of the most depraved killers in recent history. He was able to get inside his victims’ heads to the point they were convinced the only way to escape was—”
“To take their own lives.”
“Exactly. The media dubbed him ‘The Professor’, because he was a highly intelligent college professor with a handful of PhDs to his name. But after researching, learning he’d rape his victims in the hopes of them eventually taking their own lives, your sister came up with a better nickname for him. A more fitting nickname.”
“What’s that?” I asked, pulse increasing, face heating as dread settled low in my stomach.
“‘The Lucretia Killer.’”