“How?” Jo didn’t look at him, seeing his shocked reaction from the corners of her mind. She was too focused on the sleeping man.
“Because we’re not the ones pulling the trigger.”
“But we do nothing to stop it.”
“This again?” Wayne groaned. “Like Eslar said, we can’t save everyone, that’s not our job.”
“So then you don’t have issue with this wish?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You’re complacent to sit by and let this wish hit our desks, let the next horrible one, and the next, and the next, without even trying to stop the cycle? If you can stand by that and see us as very different from him, then you haven’t been paying attention.” Jo didn’t even look at him as she spoke; all she could see was the Bone Carver, the serial killer that had begun to shift into a gray area of morality for her. It was starting to feel distinctly as though she had more common ground with a madman than she particularly wanted.
“It’s not our job, and those deaths aren’t our fault. They’re not on our hands, unlike this twisted fu—”
“Every man is guilty of all the good he does not do.” Jo finally tore her eyes away. It was as if the sight of the killer was pulling her down into a dark abyss from which there could be no escape.
“Did you just come up with that?” Wayne asked skeptically, and rightfully so.
“It’s Voltaire.”
“You sure you were a hacker and not a philosopher before this?” Wayne shook his head, sparing one more nasty glance for the Bone Carver before looking solely at Jo. His hands settled on her shoulders, but felt like support more than a weight—a scaffolding that she could rely on when everything else felt so shaken. “Listen, doll, that creature is less than human. And before you say anything, it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s synthetic and everything to do with the fact that he’s a downright monster that kills innocents for sport.
“And just because, by some messed up twist of fate, we’re on the wrong side of this one, that does not make you, or any of us, like him. We just do our best with what’s handed to us and live to fight another day.”
All she could do was nod. The first was small, then bigger, and then affirmed with, “You’re right.” When Wayne cracked a crooked smile for her, she felt her heart lift.
“About time you said so.”
Jo snorted and rolled her eyes. “Sorry, it just feels like everything is falling apart. Nothing is as it should be. Orwhereit should be, for that matter. And I can’t just . . . I can’t sit by any more and let these wishes happen.”
“I hear you. The sooner we can get done with this wish, the better.” He’d clearly misunderstood her final words.
“We should go to the police station,” Jo suggested as she stepped away from his comforting hold and toward the door. “We’re getting nothing from being here but dark thoughts and needless frustration. Maybe we can find something helpful there.”
“Lead on, doll face. The Door seems to listen to you best—so be a bit gentler to it.” Wayne laughed.
Jo held out her hand over the doorknob, and spared one more glance to the man in the bed behind her. She’d done work for horrible people in the past. She’d crafted hacks that she knew would ruin people’s lives, possibly even kill them. But this felt different. It wasn’t like she was loading the gun and handing it off. She was the one to pull the trigger—as Wayne had said.
No, it was even worse than that, because she saw some part of herself in the sleeping form of the lunatic bent on the destruction of life. In him was a reflection of a dark corner somewhere inside herself that Jo hoped the light would never shine on.
“Jo?” Wayne’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.
She turned, but her eyes shifted to the man in the bed. No, not to the man, but to the single eye that was opened a slit. The Bone Carver seemingly stared right at her, unmoving, not even breathing. Jo felt nausea sweep through her.
“Let’s go.” Jo turned hastily, willing the Door to appear before them. Willing it to take them to the local police station. But mostly just willing it to take her anywhere other than that dark room before Wayne could notice they were being watched.
Chapter 6
Palm, Meet Desk
Even knowing exactly how much chaos the Bone Carver seemed to be leaving in his wake, there was nothing that could have prepared them for the madhouse that was the local police station.
All manner of uniformed officers bustled about with files, loose papers spilling in their haste. Sergeants and detectives congregated in briefing rooms with higher-ranking officials from Boston PD and the FBI. They all took turns shouting orders at already frantic peons. Jo could feel their panic like an almost tangible force. Or maybe she just related to it.
For a moment, Wayne and Jo could only move themselves off to a less congested side of the office space and watch. It became obvious quite quickly that a large portion of the department had been assigned the Bone Carver case, and even more officers were being recruited as they watched. It was a mess of information and a riptide of emotional upheaval.
Jo scanned the room, taking in not just the officers and their frantic attempts at righting these wrongs, but the late-night interview being conducted with the police captain as well.
