‘Interesting, very interesting …’ Simon is still seated on the bunk. He leans back now against the wall of the cell, fingers pinching at his bottom lip. ‘And you think Emma and Travis Bell may explore this alternative address?’
Kristin considers, nods. ‘Emma would want to. And I think, where Travis is concerned, she can be very persuasive.’
Simon snorts. ‘I’m sure.’ He sighs. ‘But that information doesn’t help with our more immediate problem, I’m afraid.’
‘I know.’ Kristin’s voice is small. She watches her twin’s gaze focus and settle on her. It feels like the wings of a great moth fluttering inside her head. ‘You were right.Nothingyou have done on this case assisted with the execution appeal – and the FBI remain profoundly ungrateful.’
Simon smiles faintly and drops his hand, opens his palms wide. ‘You know my feelings about the bureau, Kristin. With one hand, they giveth, and with the other, they taketh away.’
Kristin feels her face contort with grief – but there’s no time for that. She blots her eyes with her sleeve and composes herself for what’s to come.
Simon’s expression now is so gentle it makes her heart ache. ‘Do you still have doubts about all this, dearest?’
Kristin senses emotion moving inside her, a deep-swirling current. It’s as if she is a mote on a vast, dark sea. Her eye turns inward and she grasps her own forearms, tucking them against her midriff to keep herself balanced.
‘There was a storm last night,’ she says quietly, ‘while Emma and I were having supper. Perhaps you felt the thunder, here in the stones. Emma went walking, so I had the moment entirely to myself. I sat outside the hotel room, smelling the storm, watching the lightning …’
She closes her eyes and remembers the brilliant sizzle and crack of ice-white, the metal scent of ozone on the air. Her twin, her brother, trapped in lightless correctional caves, has not seen a storm in over two years.
She opens her eyes. ‘I have doubts, Simon, but they are not about you.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
‘Nail polish.’ Travis looks at Emma, then back at Westfall’s fax. ‘Same brand and color as Kirke used on the victims.’
‘Westfall said it went to a warehouse space.’ Emma takes the fax from him to see. ‘It’s listed as a receiving warehouse on the shipment order.’
‘That’s gotta be where Kirke is getting it from.’
‘From an order his mom placed eight years ago?’ She examines the paper, rubs the short hair at the back of her neck. ‘Who orders six hundred and fifty bottles of one color of nail polish?’
‘Maybe she clipped coupons?’ Travis shrugs. ‘I don’t know. It’s weird.’
‘His mother.’ Emma chews at a fingernail.
‘What’s that?’
‘I just remembered what Simon said about the College Killer –he’s had some unfortunate experiences with women, most likely with the first woman he ever knew.’ Emma’s leg has started jigging again. Travis doesn’t think she’s realized. ‘Peter Kirke started killing after the death of his mother. It wasn’t only that he got access to means – a car, a house. It’s because that connection was severed.’
Travis frowns, following her thread. ‘You think she kept him in check?’
Emma nods. ‘I think Kirke probably has a really complicated family history. And if we dig further into his life, I’m guessing we’ll find evidence of earlier minor transgressions – trespass, public exposure, peeping Tom behavior – that his mom managed for him.’
‘That would track.’
‘So this nail polish, and the connection to his mother, would have importance for him.’ Emma’s eyes move as she considers. Then she pushes away from the table to stand. ‘Travis, I think we should go to Beechview and look at this warehouse.’
‘What?’ He blinks at her. ‘No. Why would we do that?’
She grabs her vest from the back of her chair, starts pulling it on. ‘To find additional evidence that Kirke used in the murders. To close the loop. There could be a link there. Kirke could work at the warehouse, or someone there might have seen him.’
Travis knows he should rein this in. ‘Yeah, but that’s something the Pittsburgh PD can follow up once Kirke is in custody.’
‘Then let’s save them the trouble.’ Emma is already zipping up her vest.
‘Emma, we can’t.’
‘Look, if it’s just a warehouse with a dozen boxes of nail polish, what does it hurt?’
