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Walking into Palm Harbor Library, it struck Ella that she’d never worked as part of a threesome in this job.

It had always been her and Ripley, her and Luca, her and her one-time partners.

Now it was her, Ripley and Sarah Webb, and something about it felt uneven.

And there were two officers positioned across the street to keep an eye on the entrance too.

They were the fivesome tasked with catching Michael Brooks in the act, and when it came to surveillance, the more eyeballs, the better. Surveillance was tedium punctuated by microseconds of adrenaline. The worst kind of high.

A woman in a white blouse, skinny jeans and high heels waited on the other side of the automatic doors.

She was not the typical librarian that Ella expected.

She was perhaps in her sixties but hadn’t lost her sense of style.

Ella glanced around and saw an elderly couple browsing the romance section, a young woman with a backpack in the crime section, and two moms with toddlers in a sensory area in the corner.

‘Mrs. Foster?’ Ella asked. ‘We spoke to one of your colleagues an hour ago.’

‘Please, call me Janet.’ The woman extended a hand to the new arrivals.

‘I’m Agent Dark. This is Agent Ripley and Sarah Webb. You’re the manager?’

‘I certainly am. What exactly is this about? My colleague didn’t give me any specifics.’

Ella checked the time on the wall clock. 2:30 PM. They had to be in position early, within thirty minutes. ‘We’re looking for a suspect in a homicide investigation, and we believe he uses the computers here on certain days.’

Janet Foster’s jaw dropped an inch. ‘Oh. Homicide? That’s awful.’

‘Yes it is, and judging by his history, he might be here today. Do you know how many people are in the library right now?’

‘Ten customers, plus three staff members. Are we in danger? Should I evacuate the place?’

‘No. There’s no need to interrupt anyone. All you need to do is stand behind the counter, and if we think there’s any danger, I’ll give you the signal to get everyone out of here. I’ll summon the officers we have outside to help too.’

Janet Foster’s composure, which had seemed surprisingly solid for a librarian facing down two FBI agents, suddenly underwent a noticeable change. Her daily concerns were typically centered on overdue books and printer jams, not homicide.

‘I see. I can do that. Who exactly are we looking for? Can you give me his name?’

Ella glanced towards Ripley, then Sarah. Naming the target out loud felt premature, potentially risky if someone overheard.

‘We’ll get to that. First, we need to get positioned.

This subject has shown a pattern, but patterns can change.

He might be here already.’ She directed her attention pointedly towards Ripley.

‘Mia, can you start with a walk through? Get the layout, look for anyone suspicious, then hang around by the romance section over there.’

‘Romance. Great.’

‘It’s got a good view of the door. Sarah, head to one of the computers and take a seat. Buzz me or Ripley if you see anything.’

Janet said, ‘I’ll get one of the assistants to set you up on the computer.’

Ella watched as the two women moved toward their assigned positions. The decision to separate them wasn’t a tactical coincidence. One wrong comment from Sarah and she’d be eating Ripley’s knuckles. Best to avoid that scenario, given the circumstances.

‘Mrs. Foster,’ Ella said once the others were out of earshot, ‘is there somewhere we can speak privately? I need to check your user records.’

‘Of course. My office is this way.’

Janet led Ella through a maze of shelves toward the back of the library.

Their path took them past the reference section where a man with reading glasses perched on the end of his nose flipped through a massive atlas.

The administrative office sat tucked behind the circulation desk.

Janet unlocked it with a key card and ushered Ella inside.

The room was smaller than Ella expected. Just enough space for a desk, two chairs, and walls lined with filing cabinets. A window looked out onto the staff parking lot.

‘Have a seat,’ Janet said as she sat behind her computer. ‘What exactly are we looking for?’

‘See if you have an active cardholder named Michael Brooks.’ Ella remained standing. The room felt too small for her anxiety, which vibrated at a frequency just below visibility.

Janet’s fingers found the keyboard. ‘Let’s see... Brooks, Michael... Yes, here we are. One Michael Brooks in our system.’

‘Do you have a photo on file?’

‘We take them for all cardholders. Security measure.’ Janet turned the monitor slightly. ‘There he is.’

Ella circled the desk. The monitor displayed a low-quality photo of a man in his early thirties.

Floppy dark hair, clean-shaven, unremarkable features.

He had a pointy nose, but that was about the only identifiable thing he had going for him.

It was the kind of face that could vanish in a crowd of three.

Perfect camouflage for someone who didn’t want to be remembered.

She kept her racing pulse in check, because her unsub was smart, and smart killers didn’t register at public places with their real names. ‘Janet, when people sign up here, do they need to provide ID?’

‘No. They just fill out a form. Then we take a photo for their cards.’

‘So they could just put any name they wanted on their forms?’

‘Yes.’ Janet gestured to the door. ‘Not sure if you noticed, but libraries aren’t exactly thriving. We’re in no position to turn down members, real names or not.’

‘Understood. Does he have an address registered?’

Janet scrolled down the page. ‘No, sorry. Providing addresses is optional.’

‘When did he register?’

‘Last December. According to this, he’s only ever borrowed one book.’

‘Which book?’

‘Whispers in Blood, by Dr. Fredrick Ammar. A forensic psychology book.’

Ella’s breath hitched. Michael Brooks could fabricate his name, but he couldn’t fabricate his face. This had to be him.

‘Okay,’ Ella said decisively. ‘Janet, I need you to print that picture out for me. Now, please. This is the man we might be looking for today.’

‘Of course.’ Janet clicked the print icon. A machine whirred to life somewhere beyond the office door. ‘Although…’

‘Although what?’

‘There’s something odd. You said this man comes in regularly? Uses the computers on specific days?’

‘Every Tuesday and Thursday between four and five.’

Janet tapped a rapid sequence across the keyboard. Her frown deepened as she scrolled through another screen of data. ‘That’s not possible,’ she said.

Ella’s pulse quickened. ‘Why not?’

‘Because according to our system, Michael Brooks hasn’t logged in to our computers for eight months.’