“As a student of Gene’s, did he ever give signs of being nuts?”

“I’m sure you’ll ask Julie the same question. She’ll say she never noticed a thing. Hard to believe, but I assure you she’ll be telling the truth. But there were a few times that struck me as odd, especially when I was alone with Gene and he was describing to me the underlying symbolism of certain villains in literature. For example, when he talked of the Medusa in Greek mythology, he saw the creature as a master manipulator. To him the capacity to transform a foe into stone represented the ability to dominate another’s will.”

“So?” she said.

“The interpretation was insightful, but that’s not what bothered me. It was Gene’s admiration of the Medusa. If he could have been a character in mythology, he told me he would have chosen that creature.” Michael paused. “That’s just one example. He almost always related to the villain more than the hero.”

“I have a background in literature as well. That’s not unusual.”

Michael stared at her. “How many people identify with a monster with crawling snakes for hair?”

“Point taken. What else struck you as odd?”

“The last year we were together he was always taking off. He would never say where he was going. But there’s no mystery there.” He sighed. “To tell you the truth I didn’t mind when he left.”

“Because you could be alone with Julie?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know anything about his childhood?”

“Julie might. He never spoke about it to me.”

“Where did he get his acid?” Kelly asked.

“He’s resourceful. Maybe he manufactured it himself.”

“Any idea where he might have put the bodies?”

Michael gestured to a lush vegetable garden that ran alongside the property. The lot was over fifty acres—they had plenty of privacy. “Julie says Gene loved to come out here and take care of his tomatoes and carrots and broccoli. He was out here at all hours of the day and night. Maybe he buried the bodies here. It’s a sobering thought.” He pointed to the slices of tomato waiting on a nearby table. “We get most of our vegetables from the garden.”

“I doubt he would have been so obvious,” she replied, knowing the FBI had thoroughly examined Banks’s garden.

“Are you going to visit him while you’re here?” he asked.

“I might.”

“You have nerve.”

“Have you seen him since last February?”

“No. Don’t want to either.”

“Has Julie?” Kelly asked.

“No. She hasn’t even spoken to him.”

Julie appeared a minute later, her son Robert by her side. She had gained weight since the last time they had met—which suited her. Her face was still pale, though, and she continued to wear her hair long and straight down her back.