Page 57 of He Sees You

Dad reaches across the table, takes my hand. His palm is callused, familiar. The hand that taught me to ride a bike, that checked for monsters under my bed. Now it hunts a monster whom I’ve been in bed with. "Celeste, you're scaring me. You sound like you're defending this killer."

"I'm just saying maybe it's not as black and white as you think."

He pulls back, studying me with cop eyes now, not father eyes. "Do you know something? Has someone approached you? Threatened you?"

Yes. Kissed me. Killed for me. Promised to keep killing for me.

"No, Dad. I'm just tired of everyone acting like all victims are innocent. Sometimes the people who die bring it on themselves."

"Christ, your books really are affecting you." He scrubs his face. "Speaking of people acting strange, Jake called in sick today. Asked to be removed from your protection detail."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Said he needed some time to deal with personal issues. Wouldn't elaborate." Dad frowns. "He seemed off yesterday too. Jumpy. Kept asking questions about the Lockwood property."

"Cain Lockwood?"

Dad's expression darkens. "Stay away from him, Celeste. I can't prove it yet, but he's involved in this somehow. The skulls, the violence, the way he just appeared in town around the time the killings started?—"

"He's lived here for years."

"Five years. And you know when the first suspicious death was? Four and a half years ago. Ruled accidental at the time, but now I'm not so sure."

"Who was it?"

"Local dealer. Mark Webb. Found at the bottom of Black Mountain ravine. Could have been a fall, but the bones were... arranged. Posed. We just didn't see the pattern then."

Mark Webb. I remember him vaguely from high school.

Used to sell to kids, particularly liked getting freshman girls high at parties. Another predator removed.

"There were others too," Dad continues, lost in his theory now. "Deaths we ruled accidental or natural. A coach who died in a hunting accident—arrow through the throat, but his bow was found strung wrong. A landlord who fell down stairs, broke his neck. All could be accidents, but..."

"But what?"

"But they all had histories. Sealed records, dismissed complaints, rumors. The coach had been accused of inappropriate conduct with students but never charged. The landlord had multiple harassment complaints from female tenants. And they all happened after Lockwood came back to town."

My coffee is cold, but I drink it anyway, needing something to do with my hands.

Cain has been cleaning house for years, removing threats before they could fully manifest.

He's been making this town safer while my father chased shadows.

"I have to go," Dad says, standing.

His legs shake slightly—exhaustion or age, or both. "Need to coordinate with state police. They're sending a unit to assist. This is getting too big for just us." He pauses, looks down at me. "Lock your doors, Celeste. Windows too. And if Lockwood approaches you?—"

"Call you immediately," I lie.

"Good girl."

After he leaves, I sit there, staring at my coffee.

My father is hunting the man I kissed last night.

The man who saved me from at least two predators.

The man whose sister is my editor and friend.