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I glance at the notebook again, at the names without endings.

“You ever think about giving it to someone?”I ask.“Cops.Journalists.Anybody?”

He looks at me like I just asked if he’d consider franchising.

“What makes you think I don’t?”

My brow knits.“Because it was between your underwear.”

Vance scoffs.“You act like I’m killing them.”

“Aren’t you?”

He almost looks offended.Almost.“I force confessions.Upload them online.That’s it.”

I raise an eyebrow.“And the plumber?”

“My first,” he says.Like he’s talking about an ex.

It hits.Low and quiet.“That explains a lot.”

He shrugs, unapologetic.“So far, so good.And he wasn’tjusta plumber—would have done a lot of damage if given the chance.You saw what was on his phone.”

I know what he’s saying and at some level I evenunderstandit.Or at least I want to.

“I don’t get it.”I narrow my eyes.“You kidnap them, threaten them, ruin their lives—and then what?You just…let them go?”

“Well, yeah.After a rock solid case and a very persuasive death threat.”

“Why not just become a cop?Seems easier.”

“High stress.Low pay.”

“You’re doing it for free.”

He shifts.“Yeah, but this way I don’t have to answer to anyone.No paperwork.No body cam.And no one telling me to 'de-escalate' when the mom's feeding bleach to her toddler.”

I stare at him.

He continues, deadpan.“Plus, they don’t always see it.There’s too much backlog.Too many hours.It’s easy to miss.Heavy stuff, really.And most of them don’t want to admit it, not when a woman looks like a good mother on paper.”

I tilt my head.“And you think you do?”

He doesn’t answer.Just presses the heels of his hands into his eyes like he can push the past out that way.

“You don’t have to save everyone, Vance.Youcan’t.”

He doesn’t look up.

“I know,” he says.“But that doesn’t change anything.”

“Someone should have saved you,” I say.“That’s what this is about.”

“Maybe.”

And there it is.The crack.

The room shifts.