“I'm sorry,” he said.“The case is officially closed, but there are still loose ends that bother me.”
“What kind of loose ends?”
Miles hesitated.They'd discussed the San Francisco case several times since his return, but he'd avoided sharing his deeper concerns about the periodic table connection.Elena was a scientist.She understood complex theories and analytical thinking.But she also valued evidence-based conclusions, and his broader theory about coordinated element-based murders was still largely speculative.It reeked of conspiracy and an overactive imagination, trying to make solid shapes out of nothing more than shadows.
“Diana Hartwell had access to detailed financial information about all her victims,” he said finally.“Bank records, investment portfolios, private business dealings.Information that a museum curator shouldn't have been able to obtain on her own.”
“So you think someone else was helping her?”
“Maybe.Or maybe she was part of something larger.”Miles pushed pasta around his plate without eating it.“The sophistication of her methods, the symbolic use of gold, the careful target selection.It all suggests coordination by someone with a broader vision.”
Elena was quiet for a moment.When she spoke, her voice was careful.“But the case is closed, right?Diana Hartwell is dead, and there haven't been any similar murders since her arrest.”
“Not in San Francisco.But if I'm right about the periodic table connection, there could be other people in other cities following the same pattern.”
“Miles.”Elena reached across the table and took his hand.“You solved the case.You saved someone's life.That has to be enough.”
Her touch was warm and reassuring, but Miles felt a familiar restlessness building in his chest.The urge to retreat to his home office and review his files.To search for new connections between the cases he'd been tracking for three years.To prove that Diana Hartwell was just one piece of a much larger puzzle.
“You're right,” he said, squeezing her hand.“I'm sorry.The wedding planning should be our priority right now.I… I’m really very sorry, Elena.”
They finished dinner while discussing flowers and music selections.It was much easier to focus on it all after Elena called out his distraction, and he was actually able to talk it out with her.Elena had found a string quartet that could play during the ceremony.The venue coordinator wanted to schedule a final walk-through.Invitations needed to be ordered soon if they wanted them printed in time.It was all perfectly normal and sweet… making plans for a future together.Shared decisions about their life.Miles participated enthusiastically, making suggestions and offering opinions about details that would matter on their wedding day.
But underneath the normal conversation, his mind kept returning to the unanswered questions from San Francisco.Diana Hartwell's financial records.Her sophisticated knowledge of gold processing.The philosophical framework that had driven her to commit elaborate murders.
After dinner, they watched a movie together on the couch.Elena curled against his side while he stroked her hair.It should have been soothing, but Miles still found himself thinking about crime scene photographs and periodic table patterns.He was ashamed of it and knew he was taking this tender moment for granted, but he simply couldn’t help it.
At 10:30, Elena kissed him goodnight and headed upstairs to bed.She had an early meeting with her research team the next morning.Miles said he'd be up soon, but he remained on the couch long after her footsteps faded down the hallway.He sat mostly motionless as the house settled into quiet around him.Outside, streetlights cast pools of yellow light on the empty sidewalk.A normal suburban night, in a normal neighborhood, where normal people slept peacefully in their beds.
Miles stood up and walked to the window overlooking their small backyard.Elena had planted a garden the previous spring.Tomatoes and herbs that they'd used in countless dinners together.Evidence of the life they were building.The future they were planning.But he could feel the pull of his home office down the hall.The filing cabinets full of case materials.The periodic table poster marked with colored pins.Three years of research that he'd never fully shared with his colleagues.He’d only shown small glimpses, not the full picture… mainly because he was slightly ashamed of the obsession that came with it.
Diana Hartwell was dead.The San Francisco case was closed.His life had returned to its comfortable routine of laboratory analysis and wedding planning.He should be grateful for the normalcy.Content with having solved one piece of a larger puzzle.
Instead, he found himself fighting the urge to spend another sleepless night searching for connections he might have missed.Patterns that could lead him to the next element-based murder before it happened.
The smart thing would be to go upstairs.Kiss Elena goodnight.Get a full night's sleep and forget about killers who might or might not exist.
But as Miles stood at the window, he knew that the periodic table murders wouldn't let him go that easily.Somewhere out there, someone was planning the next sequence.He was sure of it.And despite his promises to Elena, despite his comfortable life, he feared he was the only person who understood enough to stop them.
CHAPTER TWO
Margaret Davis pulled into the empty parking lot of Roosevelt Elementary School at 6:45 in the morning.The building sat quiet and still against the gray Washington, D.C., sky.No yellow buses lined the circular drive.No children's voices echoed from the playground.There was only the peaceful silence that came before another day of organized chaos began.
She gathered her coffee and briefcase from the passenger seat.The morning air carried a chill that promised winter was coming.Margaret pulled her coat tighter as she walked toward the main entrance.She felt that as the principal, she ought to be the first one there, every morning.
The school had been her professional home for twelve years.She knew every corner of the building.Every quirk of the heating system.Every door that stuck in humid weather.Roosevelt Elementary served eight hundred students from kindergarten through fifth grade, and Margaret took pride in maintaining a safe and nurturing environment for all of them.
She unlocked the main entrance and stepped into the lobby.The familiar smells of floor wax and disinfectant greeted her.Bulletin boards displayed student artwork and announcements about upcoming events.The trophy case near the office showcased academic achievements and sports awards from years past.Margaret walked down the main hallway toward her office.Motion sensors triggered the overhead lights as she passed.The building felt cavernous when empty, but there was a peculiar peace to it.Classroom doors stood closed and locked.Student lockers lined the walls like silent sentinels.Everything was exactly as it should be at this hour.
She reached her office and set down her briefcase.The day's schedule was packed with meetings.A conference call with the district superintendent at eight.Parent conferences throughout the morning.A curriculum review session after lunch.But first, she wanted to walk through the building and check on preparations for the upcoming parent-teacher conferences.Some of those parents could beveryfinnicky when it came to the appearance and cleanliness of the building.
Margaret left her office and began her routine morning rounds.The cafeteria staff would arrive in half an hour to begin preparing breakfast for the early kids.The custodial crew had finished their overnight cleaning and left everything spotless.Teachers would start filtering in around seven-thirty to prepare their classrooms for another day.
She walked past the library, the music room, the computer lab.Everything looked normal.The building felt secure and ready for students.As she turned down the hallway that housed the kindergarten and first-grade classrooms, she noticed something odd.A faint smell hung in the air.Sweet but chemical.Not the usual scents of cleaning products or children's art supplies.Something different that made her nose wrinkle slightly.Potpourri maybe?Had one of the teachers perhaps sprayed something in their room before leaving the day before?
Margaret paused and sniffed again.The smell was definitely there, though not overpowering.It seemed to be coming from somewhere down the hall.She walked slowly, trying to identify the source.
The kindergarten wing housed six classrooms, each decorated with bright colors and child-friendly displays.Mrs.Patterson's room showcased a unit on community helpers.Mr.Wilkins's door was covered with paper leaves for a fall project.Miss Porter had created a reading corner visible through her window.
