Page 22 of Line of Sight (Second Sight #4)

The Fairmont Copley Plaza Hotel, Boston, MA

SEAN WELCOMED Dan and Gary into his office and closed the door.

He went over to his desk and picked up the phone.

“Sally? No calls for the next ten minutes or so, okay? Thanks.” He replaced the handset, then pointed to a cardboard box in the corner of his office. “That’s all the books I could find.”

Dan picked it up. “Wow, this weighs a ton.” He placed it on the desk and opened it. The topmost book stopped him in his tracks.

He glanced at Gary. “Well, what do you know about that?”

Gary joined him and peered into the box.

The book was The Silence of the Lambs .

“I wonder if the others are in there too,” he murmured.

Sean frowned. “What others?”

Dan removed the books and laid them on the desk. Sure enough, a couple of the titles Riley had mentioned were among them.

Not all of them, however.

“ The Bone Collector isn’t in here,” Dan mused. “When was the book released?”

Gary was on his phone in a heartbeat. “The book came out in ’97, the movie in ’99. That explains that. Brad was already dead by that time.”

Dan studied the paperbacks. “I’ll tell you what else isn’t in here. American Psycho .”

“Will one of you tell me what you’re talking about?” Sean asked with a note of frustration.

“We have a theory that apart from Brad, all the crime-scene photos from the cold cases we’re looking at resemble scenes from thrillers,” Dan told him.

Sean stared at him. “Are you saying the killer copies murders from books?”

“With one important difference,” Gary remarked. “Whatever the weapon—ax, steam, stiletto—that isn’t what kills them. We think he’d already done that with drugs. Everything else is just… window dressing.”

“That sounds like one sick, crazy son of a bitch. And we were at college with him?”

“If the killer is a him,” Gary said. “We’ve got no evidence either way at this point. My instincts say he’s male, but that’s because serial killers tend to be male.”

Dan picked up a copy of Strangers on a Train , and a shiver traveled through him.

Gary was at his side before he could draw breath. “What do you sense?”

“Some strong emotion. Revulsion? Fear? It… it’s not clear.” He opened the book and peered inside. “What does this mean?”

On the back of the cover was written:

No.

No.

No.

No SMC

Sean stared at it. “I have no idea. Do you think it’s important?”

Dan huffed. “To quote you, I have no idea.” Except that wasn’t quite true. “Well, maybe the germ of an idea,” he confessed. “You said he joined a club at college to discuss books.”

“That’s right. The Mystery/Thriller club. He asked me if I wanted to join too, but it wasn’t my thing. Besides, I didn’t think it was good to be in each other’s pockets all the time. I wasn’t going to ask him to come rowing or swimming with me, now, was I?”

Gary tapped the book with his finger. “The students we mentioned—Greg Collins, Amy Walsh, Jason Kelly, Jennifer Sullivan—they were in the same club?”

“I think so.” Sean gave them an inquiring glance. “Have I helped?”

Dan gave him a warm smile. “I think you might have done.”

Sean said nothing, but the glow of satisfaction that clung to him said plenty.

“You know who else was in that club, don’t you?” Gary said suddenly.

Dan shivered. Oh yes.

“The killer.” He scanned the book covers. “And now I’m wondering if anyone ever kept a record of who attended it.”

“Want me to ask around?” Sean made a note. “Not that I’d hold out much hope after all these years, but you never know.”

Dan glanced at Gary. “Your call. If we do get a list, it’ll mean more names to investigate.”

Gary didn’t hesitate. “Yes, please, Sean. Right now we need all the help we can get.”