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She continues, “By all accounts, you appear responsible. Your current patients have nothing but positive things to say about you, and Zinnea has relayed how much you do for everyone in your family. So, I won’t apologize for my feelings about you when we met, but I look forward to learning how wrong I may be. The picture unfolding of your life is one of a woman surrounding herself with people needing healing.”

If she expected me to be appreciative, she doesn’t seem the least bit irritated when I’m silent watching Zin deliver the key back to her. There’s a slight tug to my arm as Zinnea takes my hand and propels me forward.

“I’ll see you soon, Zinnea. Good work today,” Dr. Almari says with a quirk of a smile.

Wiping away the scatter of tears that fell listening to Dr. Almari, Zin and I find Harrison waiting by the door for us. “Too many people around not to escort you to your vehicle,” he says to me.

“Seems a little overboard,” I mutter. Looking down at Zin, she appears lighter after coming out of the release room. She certainly has plenty to scream about, too. “Do you have any news?”

I know I don’t need to ask, because clearly if Harrison, Bristow, Matt, Keir, or any of the law enforcement officers hear or find anything, I’ll be told. I just feel all too idle when I want to be actively looking for my son.

“No unfortunately. Not about Wes, but Matt made some progress on the copycat killings.” Harrison holds open Zinnea’s door before walking around the front of the car to grab mine.

Aren’t they related?

“I thought they were both…I thought they were connected?” Harrison lets go of the door, assuming I can manage climbing into my own car and shutting the door behind me unassisted. I close it before getting in, though, wanting to speak out of Zin’s earshot. “What happened?” The squeezing sensation in my chest is making me feel choked. I don’t want to hear there’s been another death.

“One of Matt’s agents developed a timeline and created a short list of suspects based on vital information the perpetrator would have.” He’s leaving something out; I’ve known Steve long enough to discern he’s going to have me draw the conclusion.

“And?”

“I’ll let Matt tell you.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

No right answer

Matt

“WheredidHuttongo?”I’ve asked everyone else, but Eden may be the only person he confided in.

She hangs her head, voice strained. “He didn’t tell me where he was going. He’s looking for Wes.”

I guessed as much.

The fear I had yesterday is either he or Eden is the ultimate goal for the Realists. They’re using Weston to lure them in. It has to be a trap. Why else would they take him?

An hour ago, it all turned upside down.

Now, I’m looking at it all differently.

One of the special agents working on the copycat killings had a short list of suspects…people who are alive, aware of certain details the public wouldn’t know, and are currently not serving time in prison. There are only three people that fit. If we aren’t missing another element of these crimes, then our suspects are: me, Agent Donna Schieve…and Hutton.

It’s not me, obviously, Donna is retired and living in Iceland last I knew, and Hutton…

Could he, or would he, ever do this?

I vehemently denied it being possible, until I remember he was groomed to be a super soldier his whole life; he is arguably the most intelligent person I’ve ever met, and the most secretive. The agent calling had explained each murder coincides with Hutton being out of town on business. He was also here the morning Wes went missing, and he trusts his dad…Would Hutton hide him somewhere as a “game” and return to him later?

Staging all this…

Could the mind-fucking he had cause him to act out this way? He was built for destruction; he says it all the time. What if it’s caused him to become a cold-blooded killer?

It just doesn’t sound right. I’ve lived with him for years and, even if he keeps to himself, I don’t see him being capable.

I’m missing something.

Eden is distraught. We’re all losing any shred of hope, because too much time has passed. I needed to walk away earlier when Harrison and Bristow went through the timeline again, dry heaving behind the barn until I thought I would collapse. My heart clenched in my chest. It didn’t help noticing the picture Weston drew of Petunia that he stuck to tack nail on the side of the barn.