She pulls away from him.
He seems to weigh up the right words. “With the scrapbook, the sudden interest in these cases, is it just something you’re doing to try and handle your own feelings of guilt?”
She inhales sharply, turns away.
“Misplacedguilt.” He pulls her back by the shoulder, and she dodges his kiss. “You know what I meant.”
“If they’re linked, people need to know,” she argues. “It could be the same killer. There could be someone dangerous out there.”
“No, they don’t need to know,” Roger replies sternly. “It’ll cause unnecessary panic.”
“Is panic really unnecessary when women are being killed?”
“They’re not linked, Beverley.”
“Roger…”
“The methods of killing are totally different,” he argues. “And that Jane Doe, Herrera—she’s Hispanic. They don’t even have the same skin color. But you know whoisHispanic? The Kings.”
“Different skin color doesn’t mean—”
“It’s a nice story, Bev, but women go missing all the time. Women get killed.”
“And that’s okay with you?”
“That’s a cheap shot.”
She pulls her dressing gown tighter around her and smooths down her hair. He will never take her seriously, just like everybody else. She will always be just the woman who was married to Henry Lightfoot, the wife who didn’t know what her husband was doing.
“Beverley”—he moves his palm to her cheek—“I wish I could stop asshole husbands and boyfriends from killing their wives and their girlfriends. I really do.”
“Isn’t it literally your job to try to stop that?”
Roger exhales frustratedly, moves away from her and stubs out his cigarette.
“What if, even if the chances are slim, the casesarelinked?” she asks. “What if this is a mass killer? He could do it again.”
He shakes his head. “Cornwell’s plowing a lot of money into surveilling the Kings. New audio technology. Covert officers. It’s his project, okay? He’s being hot on this. And these guys? They are not good guys, Bev. People like you shouldn’t be trying—”
“People like me?” She raises an eyebrow. “Women?”
Roger rolls his eyes. “No, Bev. Civilians.”
She huffs.
“It gets in our way and, more importantly, it can be dangerous.” He reaches for her. “If you’d seen the things I’ve seen, if you knew what people were really capable of—”
She shoots him a glance and he pauses.
“I just want you to be safe.”
She softens a little. She believes him. She knows he would do anything to protect her. She also knows that, deep down, that’s one reason she was so drawn to him in the first place.
“I’m not talking about hanging around in dark alleys,” she counters, “but surely we can find a link between these victims.”
“It’s not that easy…”
“We won’t know until we try.”
