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The hour was growing late and the air inside the ship was growing chilly. But the goosebumps on Maddock’s flesh had nothing to do with the cold. He was staring into the face of a murderer.
“You admit that you killed Megan Keane? That surprises me,” Maddock said.
“Yes, I killed her.” Shipman swallowed hard. “I suppose I murdered her, in fact. But not in the way you think.”
“What I think is that you spent too much time delving into the minds of serial killers and the allure finally became too great to resist.”
“No,” Shipman groaned.
“Was it an academic thing? Wanted to see if you could get away with it, like your father did? Or was it just a hunger?”
“That’s not it at all.”
“Maybe just a little trickle-down Critzer?” Bones asked. “A chip off the old axe murderer.” He looked at Maddock. “That last one wasn’t funny, was it?”
“Few of them are, Bones.”
“Listen to me.” Shipman waved with the pistol. “You’ve got it all wrong.” He looked around the dark cabin. “I cared only about the treasure. I did my research, pored over that damned journal, scoured the mountains and the desert. Common sense told me to give up, but I kept on searching. Finally, I found it! The lost ship of the desert.” For the first time, he actually smiled. “Imagine my surprise at what I discovered when I got here.”
“What was that?” Maddock thought he already knew.
“It was like something out of a horror film. The mummified remains of young women were hanging from those.” He waved his gun in the direction of the shackles. “Their bodies showed evidence of the most gruesome sort of torture. And there was a chest containing instruments of torture. No treasure, no priceless artifacts. Only a house of horrors.”
“You knew what your father was,” Maddock said.
Shipman shook his head. “I knew he had tried to hurt my mother and that she considered him an erratic man with the potential to snap at any moment. Once I learned about his family of origin, I knew we had dodged a bullet. But I never dreamed of the depths of his depravity until that moment.”
“Why didn’t you report it to the police?” Maddock asked.
“Easy,” Bones said. “He wanted to keep the ship a secret until he was sure there was no treasure to be found.”
“That’s it exactly,” Shipman agreed. “That and shame, disbelief, not wanting my name associated with his. It might have been great publicity, or it could have ruined my career. I didn’t feel I could take the risk. I frantically searched the ship but found nothing. I rushed home, positively devastated. When I finally calmed down, I took a second look at some of my father’s files. Pieces began to fall into place.”
“Like what?” Bones asked.
“Pawn shop receipts for old Spanish coins and artifacts. He must have found them inside the ship.” For a moment, the gleam of gold fever shone in Shipman’s eyes, but then his gloom returned. “The worst was the collection of newspaper clippings about missing and murdered women, including the Black Dahlia. I recognized a couple of the women as those hanging in the ship. It didn’t take long to begin drawing lines from each victim to my father. Nothing I could prove, but the conclusion was obvious. He really was a serial killer. It was then I truly began to worry about whether or not I might have inherited certain family traits. That was when I scheduled a session with Megan’s mother. I was terribly worried, but trying to hide it. I suppose I didn’t do a good job of it because I later learned that she came away from our session feeling unsettled.” An expression of regret passed across his face.
“I waited a week before I returned to the ship. I took a shovel so I could bury the remains of my father’s victims. If someone else were to also find the ship, better an empty one than a crime scene. Each would bring its own sort of unwanted attention, but only one could lead to my undoing. What I didn’t know was Megan Keane had suspicions of her own about me, and my visit to her mother only confirmed them in her mind. She fancied herself a future investigative reporter and decided to apprentice the craft by stalking me. On the day I came to the ship, she followed me. She caught up just as I was burying the first body.”
“And she thought you were burying one of your own victims,” Bones said.
Shipman nodded. “I don’t know how but she crept right up behind me. I heard two shutter clicks, someone snapping photographs. I turned around and there was Megan. She said she’d always known I was a creep and now everyone would know.” Silent tears trailed down Shipman’s cheeks. “But all I could think about was the ship and the treasure. I couldn’t have the world knowing I found it. I hit her with the shovel.”
Now he began to sob. Bones glanced at Maddock, a question in his eyes. Maddock mouthed ‘not yet.’ Shipman still had his finger on the trigger.
“I just hit her. Didn’t even think about it. But I suppose my heart wasn’t in it. She acted like she hardly felt it. Just turned and ran. I chased her and, in her panic, she tried to climb the cliff wall. I begged her to come back. Said we could work something out. But she wouldn’t listen.”
“Then what happened?” Bones asked.
“She fell. Died on impact. Suddenly, my idea of burying the bodies beside the ship seemed foolish. If it were ever discovered, all the area around it would be excavated. So, I did what I had to do. One by one, I hid their bodies in the caverns.” Tears now dripped from his cheeks.
Maddock couldn’t manage any sympathy. Gold fever was common among treasure hunters, but it was no excuse for murder.
“You need to come clean,” Maddock said. “Killing us won’t stop this. Like we told you. We’ve shared our knowledge and suspicions with too many people. When you locked us in the caverns, we found Megan’s necklace and turned it in to the police. You can’t stop this.”
Shipman nodded sadly. “You’re right in more ways than you know.” With a sudden movement, he thrust the pistol into his own mouth.
“No!” Maddock and Bones shouted in unison, but neither man could move fast enough.
The pistol boomed and Shipman slumped to the deck.