Page 34 of Line of Sight

I removed my phone from my pocket and glanced at it with a frown. “Damn. I have an important call to make. I’ll be right back.”

“Shall I tell Sean you’ll be back? I’m sorry but I didn’t catch your name.”

That’s because I never gave it, you dumb bitch.

I left before I called her that to her face. I didn’t want her remembering me that way. In fact, I didn’t want her remembering me at all.

I walked out of the hotel and headed for my car, my mind slipping into overdrive.

What could Sean tell them? Did Brad tell him anything before he died?

Probably not. I’d have heard about it by now. Or maybe he did, and it hadn’t made sense to Sean at the time.

But now Porter had been added to the equation, and maybehecould make sense of it. Whateveritwas.

It took me a moment to realize this discovery had brought me what I’d sought.

A new thrill.

Maybe even a new game.

And the name of this game was….

Watch Sean Nichols.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Tuesday, December 11, 2018

Evening

“WHAT AREyou reading?”

Dan glanced up from his book. “Strangers on a Train.”

Gary brought the cups over and placed them on the coffee table. “And are you reading it to get a sense of Brad or of the killer?”

“This isn’t Brad’s copy. I hit the bookstore on the way home while you were shopping at the store.” He smiled. “Actually? I’m reading because I’ve never read it before.” Gary flopped onto the couch next to him, and Dan leaned against him. “I like her style, I must admit. The way she depicts Bruno…. You know from the moment you meet him that there’s something about this guy that doesn’t add up.” He marked his page with a bookmark and closed it.

Gary pointed to the pile of books on the table. “Are those next?”

Dan had bought copies ofThe Silence of the Lambs,The Bone Collector,SWF Seeks Same, andAmerican Psycho. “Yeah. Not my usual taste in books, but this is research, right?” He sighed. “I keep thinking about what Brad wrote in that book. I don’t know what SMC means, but Idoknow he found it repellent. I also have an idea why.”

“Go on.”

Dan tried to frame his feelings into some coherent pattern.

“Brad loved reading. He loved mysteries and thrillers. Now, we know our killer used murder scenes from thrillers for… Isuppose inspiration is the closest I can get to it. So maybe Brad saw Scott’s murder for what it was—a murder lifted from the pages of one of his favorite genres—and this unsettled him. No,offendedhim. That someone could take something he loved to read and twist it into this appalling act.” Dan reached for his cup. “Maybe there’s more to it than that. Maybe the motive for the killing appalled him too.” He held up his hand. “I know, there are no apparent motives, but you’re a detective. Does thisfeellike a set of random murders? People killed for no reason whatsoever?”

Gary didn’t say anything for a moment. Dan liked that about his partner. He didn’t say the first thing that came into his head—hethoughtabout it, ruminated on it, before committing to words out loud.

“No, it doesn’t,” Gary said at last. “For him to come up with these scenarios? That took time. Research. Surveillance, even. And for Barry to choose those four names means there has to be something that connects them to the victims. Maybe you’re right. Maybe Brad knew why the killer was doing this, and it reviled him.”

“One thing I don’t understand. Scott McCarthy died January thirteenth, 1995. Brad was unsettled from February onwards. He died April sixteenth, three months after Scott’s murder. If Brad knew it was murder—let’s say he discovered it in February—why didn’t he report it to the police?”

“I don’t know. There had to be a reason. Brad wasn’t the kind of person who’d help conceal a murderer. Iknowhe wasn’t.” Gary’s voice rang out, and Dan could hear the notes of both conviction and frustration.

Dan put his cup down and grasped Gary’s hand. “We may never know why. That’s one secret Brad took with him to his grave.”