Page 62 of Obsession in Death

“Not when it’s important.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She started for the door. “It’ll probably be tonight. The next. I’m not going to be able to stop it.”

“You’re not responsible, Eve.”

“No. A couple of airboards weren’t responsible for two kids getting sliced up on their way home from the boarding park. But they were a motive. This isn’t any different. Get the driver,” she added, and left.

She wanted to be out in the field, doing something active. Intimidating somebody, maybe kicking some ass. Instead she closed herself in her office again with her board, her notes, and the coffee Mira thought she’d already had too much of.

While she thought of the killer, the killer thought of her.

•••

I finally have an hour to myself. I’ve watched Eve’s media conference three times. She looked so good, sounded so tough. She really gave those asshole reporters the business! It’s just amazing the way she can cut them down without raising her voice. I’ve never been able to do that, never been able to put anybody in their place. Someone always puts me in what they wanted to be my place.

Until now.

But why did she say it was inaccurate? Why didn’t she answer that question truthfully, tell everyone I’d written to her? I’d killed on her behalf, and she wouldn’t give me credit.

That’s really upsetting. It hurts my feelings. Can’t she see that?

I thought this would be the time—just the right time—for her to talk about me, a little. Really, all she had to say was yes, there were messages left for me at the scene.

She didn’t have to give the content, just the acknowledgment, the feeling. I kept looking for some signal from her. Something. Anything.

There were a couple times I felt she was looking right at me, like she was trying to say something just to me. I’ll watch again, maybe I missed it. Maybe I’m letting myself get upset over nothing.

When she said she’d do her job? Maybe that was it. Like a warning to me she’d have to come after me. There’s no question of that, it’s who she is, it’s what makes her the amazing person she is. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been so careful. No one will be able to say she didn’t do all she could do, more than anyone else could do.

Could she have been telling me to keep being careful? I hope that was it. I have to believe that was it.

If it is, it’s almost like we’ve talked, at last. One day we will, in person. Just the two of us. We’ll have some wine. We’ll open the bottle I bought especially—the same kind she was drinking in that picture I found of her, the one taken when she went to Italy.

With him.

She won’t need him once we’re finally able to be together, work together. We’ll talk and talk and talk, about everything, share everything.

She won’t need anyone but me. I hope she’s starting to understand that now. I have to show her so she understands.

I know I have to wait, I know there’s more work to be done first, but I hope it’s soon.

Maybe after tonight. Maybe after one more. I’m really looking forward to this one—doing it for her, and for myself. It’s like discovering I have an innate talent for playing the violin or painting watercolors.

I have an innate talent for execution.

There will be one fewer disrespectful asshole in the world after tonight. As Eve would say, he can bite me.

But the dead don’t bite.

•••

She spent a long time studying both messages. Key words: JUSTICE, RESPECT, FRIENDS. Words most repeated—or emphasized in the lab rat’s analysis—in the longer, second message: RESPECT, DISRESPECT, SOCIETY, FRIEND, JUSTICE.

She’d look for repetition and emphasis on those words when she ran the correspondence. If the killer had a message, these words made up an important part of it.

He’d have used them before.

She took another look at Mason. Despite the alibi, he had a connection to the cops. But with or without the alibi, she admitted, he just didn’t fit. Not only didn’t fit her own instincts, but didn’t fit the profile.