The Wentletrap.
The Lightning Man.
The Calico Killer.
Jingle Shells …
He paused. The Lightning Man. A lightning whelk reference. But more than that. He remembered now. It was about a mad bomber. Very technical. Alden had been impressed by the detail.
He pushed Conched Out back onto the shelf, touched the spines between, counting back down to The Lightning Man. He opened the book to the title page and its lavish scrawl.
Craig, your expertise never ceases to amaze me. This was the book you were born to write with me. I’m glad you left the FBI bomb school.
You belong with me!
All my love, Enolia
So much to unpack. Did Craig actually do some of her writing? And how much did he belong with her?
More to the point—what the hell did she mean by the FBI school? And why did Craig lie about working on this book?
Alden feared he already knew the answer. He just didn’t want to know. Not when he stood in the man’s freaking lair. He eased the book about the bomber back onto the shelf and turned around.
Craig stood there by the worktable looking at him, eerily casual, holding a Walther PPK in one hand. Not quite aimed at Alden. But close.
Alden froze while trying to project a casual interest, as if a lethal weapon hadn’t just entered the chat. “James Bond fan?”
Craig looked down at the handgun and back at Alden. “Bond started out with a .38 Colt Police Positive before he picked up the Walther. I like this better.”
“Fine if you maintain it well. Unless it’s just a collectible.” Please let it be a collectible.
“Oh, I visit the range regularly. It’s in perfect shape.” Craig paused, searching Alden’s face. “You’re a fan of hers, aren’t you?”
Alden nodded.
“Know all her books, then?”
“Very well. Interesting inscription in The Lightning Man. I thought you said you started helping her with The Calico Killer.”
“Must’ve gotten confused. So many books. So many years together.”
Alden hesitated. He wasn’t sure how he was going to get out of this. But he’d like to know the truth, either way. “It was hard to watch her cozy up to Wayne, wasn’t it?”
“Hard?” Craig’s laugh was bitter. “She threw herself away on that slimy little man, when I was her muse. That’s what she used to call me. Yeah, it was hard to watch. Especially when she threw her money at him, too.”
“So you decided to do something about it.”
Craig shrugged, the gun carelessly flopping around with the movement. “He was bad news. And lithium batteries explode all the time. I just thought I’d help it along.”
“But the vape pen wasn’t fast enough for you. Or as sure. So you rigged up his car to blow.”
Craig’s eyebrows rose, and he smiled. “I wish I could’ve seen him explode, either way. I’ve been told I enjoy that sort of thing a little too much.”
Alden took a guess. “FBI school?”
“You know about that?” Craig had obviously forgotten the particulars of Enolia’s message to him in the book. Though he’d seen Alden looking at the titles, putting it all together. He must’ve guessed his goose was cooked.
And I’ve confirmed it, Alden thought. Why didn’t I just play dumb and walk out of here?
