“I mean it,” Torres said.“You said he’s been up inside your life?Fine.Then we’re going to drag him out of it.This bastard doesn’t get to live rent-free in your head.”
Kate let out a shaky breath.“That’s easier said than done.”
“Maybe,” Torres said.“But I’m good at difficult.”
Kate smiled faintly.“Thanks.Really.”
Torres shrugged, but there was warmth behind the gesture.“Don’t mention it.We all need someone in our corner.Even you big swingin’ dick Bureau types.”
Kate gave a small laugh.“You say the sweetest things.”
“I know,” Torres said.Then, more gently, “You okay to go back out there?”
Kate hesitated, glancing at her reflection one last time.“Give me a minute.”
Torres nodded.“Take as long as you need.I’ll keep Marcus off your back.”
“Appreciate it,” Kate said.
Torres started for the door, then paused.“For what it’s worth, Valentine… your dad sounds like he loved you.Even if he didn’t know how to show it.”
Kate’s eyes met hers in the mirror.“Yeah,” she said softly.“He did.”
Torres gave a small nod, then left.The door swung shut behind her, leaving Kate alone with the hum of the lights and the faint scent of soap.
She stood there for a long time, listening to the sound of her own breathing.
She thought about her father’s hands — the way they’d trembled slightly when he held a nail steady for her to hammer, the smell of sawdust clinging to his shirt.She could still see him on that ladder, squinting up through the leaves, telling her to pass the next plank.She’d believed he could fix anything.
Now, years later, she wondered if he’d somehow seen this coming — not the murders, not the man who haunted her life, but the shape of her future.The way she’d end up chasing monsters, trying to make sense of them.Trying to understand.
She shut off the tap, dried her hands, and looked at herself again.Her reflection looked calmer now, but her eyes were still haunted.
“Green Gables,” she whispered under her breath.The words sounded foreign now, like an incantation that had outlived its meaning.
She turned toward the door, took a breath, and walked out.
CHAPTER SIX
When Kate came out of the precinct bathroom, the light in the bullpen felt different—charged, a sliver brighter, as if someone had ratcheted up the voltage a notch.Marcus was on his feet, one hand cupped around his phone, the other drawing big, impatient circles in the air as though that might drag the signal faster.
“Yeah, yeah, patch it through,” he was saying.“No, not the stills.The scrubbed-up clips.If bandwidth’s a problem, send the subway first.Copy that.Email and the secure share.Thanks, Richie.You’re a saint.”He stabbed the screen to end the call and looked up like a man about to sprint.“They’ve got something.”
Kate stopped, one palm still pressed to the cool painted cinderblock wall.It was like the feeling just before a storm—the pressure drop, the hairs on your arms lifting.She tried to read Marcus’s face and felt the first prong of dread slide under her ribs.
“From the payphone?”she asked.
Marcus shook his head.“There’s a unit with a beautiful view of that particular phone.But the camera hasn’t worked since late 2022.However, wehavegot multiple feeds over a block and a half radius of the bank.TARU pulled everything from commercial cams to some guy’s doorbell that points the wrong way but still catches a slice of the sidewalk.And—” He checked himself, as if not wanting to spill the ending before the act began.“Let’s wait for Torres.”
“I’m here, I’m here,” Torres sang out, jogging from the far side of the room with two mismatched mugs of coffee and her laptop balanced on one hip.“Don’t panic, Romeo, you’re gonna get your movie night.”
She handed Kate a mug.Someone had scuffed a smiley face into the ceramic.When Kate raised it, the heat kissed her palm.It smelled like burnt hazelnut.She wasn’t sure she could swallow anything.
“My contact Richie says five minutes,” Marcus said, already pacing again.He never did well with waiting; with Marcus, impatience was both a fuel and a flaw.“I've viewed it once and asked if they could enhance it.So now they’retranscodingit, whatever the hell that is.”
“It means the tech gods are making it a teensy bit more watchable on your dinosaur of a laptop,” Torres said, dropping into her chair.“Don’t click anything for the next five minutes, big guy.”
She turned a fresh grin on Kate.“You look paler than me in February, Valentine.Well, itisFebruary.Sit.Breathe.We’ll narrate.”
