“Fast track the toxicology,” I told him. “I want to know what, how much, when it would have to have been administered.” Was this from before Mallory’s message or after? Had Masters alwaysbeen doomed to this particular death or had he been another kind of message?
Mallory’s jaw tightened. Just once.
I stepped in front of her again—not to block the body, but the implications.
“That’s enough,” I said quietly.
She nodded. No argument. No pushback.
We left the same way we came—quiet, covered, unnoticed.
As we crossed back through the line, she leaned closer and said under her breath, “Thank you.”
I didn’t answer. Because if I did, I might have said something I couldn’t take back.
On the drive back, she stared out the window. Didn’t take notes. Didn’t ask questions. Just processed.
I told myself I’d done the right thing. Given her context without exposure. Knowledge without access. Trust without recklessness.
I told myself that as the SUV took a long, alternate route around then we traded for another vehicle that I drove with Mallory in the passenger seat. We didn’t discuss anything even when I pulled into the safe house drive and straight into the garage.
Before I even left the car, I dismissed the agent inside because I was back. They reported no activity and that Miss McBryan had slept the whole time I was out. Leaving that, I motioned her out of the car only after the outer door of the garage was closed.
Once we were inside, she stripped off the hat and the jacket to hand to me. Her eyes were full of questions and her expression was tense. We’d spent several hours at the scene despite how swift it had seemed, but she didn’t just disappear to her room.
“You’re not going to sleep,” I said.
“No.”
“Instead, you’re going to replay every detail.”
She shrugged. “He’s never used poison before.”
“I know, it’s possible this is a copycat, taking advantage of the case…”
The skeptical look she wore matched my own read on the situation. “The method bothers me because this feels like a correction for a correction.”
I hesitated. “Explain.”
“It’s been my supposition that he’s been punishing people for their fraudulent acts. For their own crimes. Justice seeking. It’s punishment and sentence.”
“Agreed.” That had been my read.
“Poison doesn’t fit the methodology he’s used. But usually, it’s been… more brutal.” She almost grimaced on the last. He’d removed all the fingers on the right hand of one of the accountants he’d slain and left them next to the body.
“He’s also not used the same method to deliver the kill with each death.” That was something that had helped us keep the presence of a serial quiet.
Or had until Mallory linked the victimology.
“Just because he hasn’t used it, doesn’t mean it’s out of character.”
Another skeptical look.
“Mallory, he kills. That’s what he does. The only thing poison tells us right now is that he is creative and working to keep us off balance. Once we have a full background on Masters, the type of poison and when it was administered, we’ll know more.”
“But why switch to poison? That feels… pointed.” She folded her arms, and looked far less defensive this time and more focused.
That gave me pause. Rather than hash this out in the hall, I motioned her toward the kitchen. Food had been delivered forlunch, but since I left orders for them to not disturb her, the food waited on the counter.
