Bastian nodded and poured another splash of bourbon. “Yes. Before I executed him.”
“My seventeenth birthday… He was late to meet me for dinner. He’d been away. I thought he was acting weird. God—” I gripped the tablet. “That was the first time he killed, as the Red Ribbon Killer.”
He’d known what I’d been through, and then he’d turned around and done the same thing to others.
Bastian took my hand and squeezed. “We aren’t all one thing. He still cared about you, Lark.”
“Maybe.” I didn’t trust that anymore. I tapped the tablet screen and opened another article. I stiffened and my head jerked up. “Bastian, this says there was a Red Ribbon Killer murderthreemonths ago. In Philadelphia.” I met his gaze. “Ed was already dead.”
He nodded and swirled his drink in his glass. “I know.”
“Was it a copycat?” I scanned the article. A newly married couple had been slaughtered on their wedding night. They had the same brutal injuries as the other murders, and the same red ribbon was found on their bodies. Hope surged for a brilliant second. “Maybe Ed wasn’t really the RRK?”
“Ed confessed, Lark.” Bastian sighed. “He seemed almost relieved to confess.”
I read the details on the new killing. “So, someone tried to cover up their crime by blaming the Red Ribbon Killer?”
“No.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I studied every kill in great detail.” He sipped his drink. “Ed didn’t work alone.”
My chest locked. “He had a partner?”
“It appears so.”
I shot to my feet. Somehow this seemed even worse. “He trusted someone enough tokillwith them. Who?”
“Ed wouldn’t tell me who he was.”
A spark ignited inside me. “He? It’s a man.”
“That’s all I got out of Ed, that his accomplice was male. And most serial killers are. The viciousness of the kills, the ability to overpower multiple victims supports that.”
I felt the feeling inside me grow, swelling like a wave.
Bastian lowered his glass, his gaze locking on my face. “I recognize that look.”
“I’m going to find whoever this fucker is.” I couldn’t confront or kill Ed. But this, I could do. “I’mnotgoing to let him kill again.” I tapped at the photos. “Because we know he will.”
“Well, you’re not going hunting right now. You got stabbed and you need more rest.”
Energy filled me. I had a target to find. “I don’t need much sleep. I?—”
He grabbed my arm. “You’renotleaving. Not while you’re upset, injured, and tired.”
My gaze narrowed. “I’m in perfect control.”
“You’ve had a big emotional upheaval, Lark. It could hit you again at any time.”
“I’mfine.” I wasn’t used to anyone worrying about me or bossing me around.
“You’ll sleep,” he ordered sharply. “And tomorrow morning, we’ll have breakfast, then we’ll see about hunting this killer.”
He spoke like a man used to getting his own way. “You’re not my father, Thorne.”
He shot me a hot look. “I know.”
