Page 99 of The Grave Artist

“Hm. All the careful advance planning means he forces himself to wait until the right moment when everything is lined up before he acts out.”

“Exactly.” Heron gave her an appreciative nod. “The temper part? He didn’t need to stab Frank—or me, if I was the intended target. But we pissed him off and a part of him, a small part, couldn’t let that go.”

“His resources?”

“It’s not expensive to travel to Europe—everybody does nowadays. But to travel on your own terms—keeping a low profile? Flying where you want, when you want? That takes money. Now, hardly anybody’sindependently wealthy, so he has to work. And self-employed? I’m thinking that because he feels he’s above other people. He’s special. Therefore, he feels free to take their lives. Anyone that arrogant wouldn’t work for someone else. That would be beneath him.”

“And the regular workouts?” she asked. “Are you basing his physical fitness on the vague description we got from the witnesses in the cemetery?”

“Partly. I believe this is his calling. Like anyone else, he’s got to train for his profession. Judging by the crime scene pictures at the Hollywood Crest Inn, the groom was knocked out and then thrown over the guardrail to fall from the cliff. The victim was a large man. It took strength for that.”

She was impressed. “Nice deductions, Sherlock.”

Heron finished his sandwich. “But even if I’m right, Watson, it only helps if we have a suspect.”

True. It was like having a DNA sample from a crime scene. If the sequence wasn’t in the CODIS database, it didn’t do any good without an individual to compare it to.

Her phone hummed. She glanced at the caller ID, hoping it wasn’t Reynolds checking up on them.

But it wasn’t.

She tapped the screen. “Go ahead, Mouse. You’re on speaker. I’m with Heron.”

Her voice was taut with strain. “Can you believe it? What Reynolds did to SSA Williamson?”

The answer was yes, Carmen absolutely could believe it. “You tried to give us fair warning.”

Recalling her assistant running along the corridor as they were about to enter Williamson’s office.

“I’ve called him three, four times. But he’s not picking up.” She added, muttering darkly, “I wonder if Reynolds turned his phone into digital oatmeal. Anyway, I’ve got news. And I’ve got you guys on speaker too.” A pause. Then: “Go ahead, Declan.”

Carmen and Heron had to share a smile at this.

The computer voice said, “I have discovered the identity of the individual you have designated Ms. POI.”

“Excellent,” Carmen said. “Go on.”

Declan continued, “First, I have a question. You’ll notice that I don’talwaysuse the contractions we talked about earlier. Would you like me to use more or fewer?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Heron said bluntly. “Don’t focus on punctuation.”

“Jake, while contractions are formed by theuseof punctuation, notably apostrophes, they are not themselves punctuation but rather—”

“Declan, stop generating. And give us the identity of Ms. POI.”

“Yes, Jake. Of all the individuals driving white Toyota Camrys in Southern California and western Arizona, there is only one individual who bears any relationship to the case involving the suspect known as the Honeymoon Killer that I could determine. Her name is Lauren Brock. And she’s the sister of the victim killed at the Hollywood Crest Inn on Saturday.”

Chapter 48

Waiting.

Selina Sanchez was not good at waiting.

This was one of the reasons she did the floor routine in gymnastics. It was ninety seconds of nonstop motion.

She was back at Ryan Hall’s, after a shower and a change of clothes at her apartment. And she’d made the trip without seeing a single black SUV or other tail. In fact, the only people she’d seen near here were a couple, in the deserted construction site across the street from her apartment. The woman wore a body-hugging sweater, black miniskirt, tights and high heels. Selina was only in the area temporarily, working a summer job in a nearby research lab, and had taken the apartment because it was cheap, convenient ... and available. The woman’s outfit made her wonder if she’d ended up in the red-light district. Did they even have them in Fullerton?

Ryan had texted not long before and reported that Paquito’s was open but Nando the bartender had not come in yet.