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Raisa stared at her, knowing when she’d hit a brick wall. Whatever was going on with Kate and Conrad, she wasn’t going to sway Kate to abandon the course.
“There’s no way we can get through ... what? Two-hundred-forty-some hours of footage,” Raisa said in a Hail Mary. “Give me a scrap. The tits connection has to count for something.”
Kate laughed. “Being funny counts for something.” She paused. “Okay. I’m guessing you don’t watch a ton of true-crime shit.”
Raisa gave her a dry look. “I live it.”
“Right, well, sometimes when you’reliving it, you forget the obvious tenets that we mere mortals know as gospel.” Kate studied Raisa’s face, as if expecting her to intuit what she meant. When Raisa didn’t,Kate continued with exaggerated patience, “The first victim always matters.”
“Right.” Raisa had even written the woman’s name down when she’d been familiarizing herself with the facts of the case, sitting in her car outside Kilkenny’s house. But they weren’t hunting the Alphabet Man. They were hunting his impostor.
And apart from the letters matching his idiolect, they had hard evidence that it had been Nathaniel Conrad who had killed Sidney Stewart.
This wouldn’t help them find their second author.
“It doesn’t matter who Conrad’s first victim was,” Raisa said.
“Really? Are you sure about that?” Kate asked. “Because our two killers seem pretty intertwined.”
“You could just actually tell me,” Raisa said.
“If you don’t figure it out—which I’m guessing you won’t—I’ll tell you once I no longer have to worry about pissing Conrad off,” Kate said.
Raisa shook her head. “You have to give me something.”
“I don’t have to do anything,” Kate said, sliding back into annoyed. But she crossed her arms and thought for a second. “You know where Conrad’s first victim worked, right?”
“Yeah, she was a gas station attendant,” Raisa said. “Up near Dallas.”
“But not quite in Dallas, right?”
Raisa hadn’t exactly memorized the location. She’d have to trust Kate on that one. “Okay.”
“So why was he in that area?” When Raisa stared at her blankly, Kate made a frustrated sound. “You’re smarter than that brain trust upstairs, but that’s a low bar, darling.”
“I’ve been on this case for twenty-four hours, tops,” Raisa said. She wasn’t actually sure that timeline was accurate, but the point was valid.
“Okay, well”—Kate shrugged—“if you can figure out why that’s important, you might actually get yourself on the right track.” And thenshe turned and slid behind the wheel of her car. She revved the engine until Raisa stepped back, and then tore out of the parking lot.
If Conrad had been stopping at a gas station outside Dallas—back when he’d lived there—he’d been headed somewhere out of town.
Raisa pulled out her phone and texted Kilkenny.
Where was Conrad driving to when he stopped for gas? For the first victim.
The typing bubbles appeared immediately.Not to, from.
Raisa rolled her eyes.Okay, where was he driving from?
Nothing popped up for a few moments, but Raisa guessed that was more because she’d surprised him with the question than because he didn’t know the answer.
He had been interviewing for a job.
Raisa closed her eyes. She didn’t need to ask where, but his next text answered it anyway.
In Houston.
Then he’d driven back to Dallas and murdered his first victim along the way.