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The corners of St. Ivany’s lips tipped up. “Ever the linguist. What does that tell you about them?”
“They were raised in the southern part of the United States, born sometime in the eighties, and went to school at an Ivy league university,” Raisa said.
St. Ivany’s eyes flew to hers. “Really?”
“No,” Raisa said on a laugh. “I’m fucking with you, sorry.”
St. Ivany made a face at her, but relaxed into the chair.
“It doesn’t tell me much except it feels like a show,” Raisa said. “Or like an afterthought. They didn’t feel any emotion behind it. They just wanted it to look like they were trying to scare me away.”
“Why?” St. Ivany asked, seemingly all she could muster.
Raisa thought back to her conversation with Roan, about the fact that he, like Delaney, had contact with at least two of the victims before their deaths. “His heart wasn’t in it.”
St. Ivany straightened again. “His?”
“Their,” Raisa corrected, too late. She decided to just fill St. Ivany in. She didn’t fully trust the woman, but they were in this boat together right now.
“I talked to a man named Roan Carmichael,” she said, and St. Ivany startled.
“He’s the guy who met with Emily for coffee not long before she died,” St. Ivany said, now watching her with a new intensity. “He said he was a friend of the family passing through.”
“Nope,” Raisa said. “He knows her through the true crime community. She wanted to interview him as the brother of one of Isabel’s victims.”
“Well, Christ,” St. Ivany said. “I should have held him.”
“He was also Isabel’s last visitor,” she said, and St. Ivany almost stood at that. Raisa held up a hand. “He says someone faked his identity.”
“Not easy, but not impossible,” St. Ivany said. “I’ll get a warrant for any security footage from the prison. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
They hadn’t so far, but maybe the tides would change. “Yeah.”
“Should we prioritize him over finding Delaney?” St. Ivany asked.
Where Raisa wasn’t sure if Roan fit into this investigation, she was now sure Delaney would. “No, we need to figure out the missing pieces. I’m pretty sure she has at least a few of them.”
St. Ivany nodded, and then studied Raisa silently.
“What?”
“What if she killed all these people?” St. Ivany asked. “What if she’s involved? Would you be able to arrest her?”
“Gleefully,” Raisa lied through her teeth. It was what she wanted to be able to believe. She just didn’t anymore.
St. Ivany shot her a dubious look.
“Okay, maybe not gleefully,” Raisa admitted. “What are you still doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be trying to sleep?”
“Did you see pictures of Emily Logan’s crime scene?” St. Ivany asked, in a seeming non sequitur.
Raisa shook her head.
“Yeah, I don’t want to ever see something like that again.”
It took Raisa a second to realize that St. Ivany wasguardingher.
“You might not think much of linguists, but Iaman FBI agent,” Raisa reminded her, though she didn’t feel as annoyed as she might have.