“No.”
The page in question was an obituary for a Portland detective who’d died two years ago.Her father’s case was mentioned.Topju had been a real person, his story, in some places, true.But shecouldn’thave met him outside that diner.
Marcus took the phone away, started typing.
“What are you doing?”
“You’ll see.”
Her head span.She hadn’t met a ghost, she knew that.
Marcus held the phone for her to see the entry for the Department of Corrections website.Gadd was real.The numerous short sentences.The long one, for kidnap and sexual assault.The transfer to a psych facility in Vermont.Her heart was banging.
“Don’t you see what’s happened?”
“What?Whathas happened?”
“Kate, Coxplayedyou.He sent some guy, one of his minions, with some story that was one part truth to three parts bullshit.That diary, journal, whatever you want to call it.It’s a fake.Cox knocked it up to convince you that this was all predicted, prophesied, by the man who killed your father, as another way of convincing you that it’s all been about you from the get-go.”
“But—”
"Okay, so you told me, that diary contained all the references and quotes that have featured in all the killings so far, right?"
“Right.”
“So if it was, genuinely, some spooky book of prophecy, wouldn’t it go beyond that?There are Ten Commandments, right?So why aren’t there Bible quotes for all the killings that are yet to happen?”
“Because—”
“Because it’s just his latest little trick!Who knows, maybe he only pulled it out of the hat because it looked like you were going to be taken off the case, and that the one thing he can’t allow to happen.”
“He wouldn’t have had the time.”
“How do you know?Maybe it was a work in progress and he decided to play it now.Emphasis on the word ‘play’.He’s messing with your mind, like he always does.And just think about the details, Vee!How can anyone hide a freakin’ journal in a Federal cell?This ain’t Papillon!”
Kate let everything settle.She remembered Gabe in the diner.The tragedy is that he’s made you believe you’re special to him — that you’re the main character in his story
Kate let out a long trembling breath.Then she looked out the windshield, her reflection faint in the glass, running through her heart an awkward cocktail of relief, gratitude and, still, of course, lingering doubt.
Seeming to understand that, Marcus also stayed quiet for a long while.Then, eventually, he said, “So what’s the plan now, partner?”
“Same as always,” she said quietly.“Follow the trail.Stay one step behind until I can get ahead.”
“I hate that plan.”
“I know.”
He looked at her, and for a heartbeat, the silence between them felt almost gentle.Then his phone buzzed.He answered, listened, and straightened.“Torres.”
Kate tensed.“What’s she got?”
Marcus’s expression darkened.“Someone just tipped her team off, but they’re going off-shift.Cops raided an empty church on 135th, found nothing.Then a guy nearby said he’d seen some unusual comings and goings from another one.St.Simon and St.Jude.On 138th.”
Kate froze.The name hit like a jolt of cold water.“Say that again.”
“St.Simon and St.Jude.”
Her mouth went dry.“That was name of the church in Portland.Where my father was killed.”
