finally, panting slightly. “I think you’re more dangerous than you let on, rookie.”
My chest grew tight. He was right. He knew.
Dangerous. What a tripwire word. After all, how many people had caught a serial killer at age ten? A truly innocent child wouldn’t even have known what all that blood meant. Wouldn’t have known what he was doing to the children before he killed them. So how had I been so sure? No one had ever hurt me.
With my stomach in a knot, I pushed out of the dark room and sucked in a deep breath of stale office air. I crossed the hallway quickly, not looking back. The soft sound of his footfalls followed me.
“Samantha?” He stood behind me, his breath warm where it ruffled the hair at my temple.
I said nothing.
“Are you upset that I kissed you?”
Still nothing. I couldn’t have spoken. Upset? Yes, I was upset. And I wanted him to kiss me again.
Finally he sighed and asked, “What do you see?”
Only then did I realize where I’d stopped. At the whiteboard with all the core case information pinned up. Maps and lists and one black-and-white grainy photograph.
The man in the photograph looked directly at the camera. He knew where the cameras were located. He also knew the footage quality was poor enough to make it irrelevant. What was he feeling in that moment? Defiance? Or incipient curiosity to know who was hunting him, a restless desire to meet their mechanical gaze?
It felt strange to humanize him, a man who had committed such atrocities, but despite what Hennessey had said about the scope of our jobs, it felt strange to think of him as just another criminal. He wasn’t just another criminal. He was scarier than the rest of them, more powerful. Smarter, too. Yes, I had a healthy dose of respect for this man I reviled. Daddy issues.
“He’s always cold,” I answered without turning.
“How do you know?” A question he had asked before and asked again. People would think I was crazy if I kept pushing this point, and maybe that was why I did it.
“He’s wearing a thick jacket. A hat. I think that’s a scarf tucked into his collar. And look at those heavy boots.”
“Well, maybe it’s cold outside.”
“No. Look at the other people. Jeans and a T-shirt. That girl is wearing flip-flops.” Innocent people with no idea who stood in their midst. “And it was sixty-five degrees at that location on the date and time this still frame was taken. Brisk, but not enough for all those layers.”
Hennessey was silent a moment. Conceding my point, I thought. “Why does it matter?” he asked finally.
I shook my head, finally turning to face him. I had no answer for that. It shouldn’t matter, but it did. Laguardia was one of the most powerful men in existence. He could build empires and topple governments. He was a fucking machine. But he had a flaw, and that made him human. It made him catchable. And I was going to catch him.
CHAPTER FIVE
By the end of the week, my neck was sore, my back was stiff, and my body hummed with a kind of expectant energy. I filled the bathtub with steaming water and threw in a ball of moisturizing bath fizz. The scent of lavender filled the small room, riding on the steam. A thin film of condensation formed on the bathroom mirror, turning my naked body hazy and blurred. I was prettier this way, I thought. Surface only, out of focus. Drunk college guys had certainly thought so, but then they probably said that to any girl.
I stepped into the bath and let the hot water wash away all my tension. I’d never understood the appeal of hooking up, but I’d done it. Anything to be normal, to pretend to be normal. So I’d hit the clubs with some friends and find a random guy to disappoint me twice before morning. Get dressed. Walk away. Forget his name. Had I even asked for it? Whatever. Typical college student. Things were a little trickier as an adult. Now guys wanted to date. They were thinking about commitment, about starting a family.
No,
My chest grew tight. He was right. He knew.
Dangerous. What a tripwire word. After all, how many people had caught a serial killer at age ten? A truly innocent child wouldn’t even have known what all that blood meant. Wouldn’t have known what he was doing to the children before he killed them. So how had I been so sure? No one had ever hurt me.
With my stomach in a knot, I pushed out of the dark room and sucked in a deep breath of stale office air. I crossed the hallway quickly, not looking back. The soft sound of his footfalls followed me.
“Samantha?” He stood behind me, his breath warm where it ruffled the hair at my temple.
I said nothing.
“Are you upset that I kissed you?”
Still nothing. I couldn’t have spoken. Upset? Yes, I was upset. And I wanted him to kiss me again.
Finally he sighed and asked, “What do you see?”
Only then did I realize where I’d stopped. At the whiteboard with all the core case information pinned up. Maps and lists and one black-and-white grainy photograph.
The man in the photograph looked directly at the camera. He knew where the cameras were located. He also knew the footage quality was poor enough to make it irrelevant. What was he feeling in that moment? Defiance? Or incipient curiosity to know who was hunting him, a restless desire to meet their mechanical gaze?
It felt strange to humanize him, a man who had committed such atrocities, but despite what Hennessey had said about the scope of our jobs, it felt strange to think of him as just another criminal. He wasn’t just another criminal. He was scarier than the rest of them, more powerful. Smarter, too. Yes, I had a healthy dose of respect for this man I reviled. Daddy issues.
“He’s always cold,” I answered without turning.
“How do you know?” A question he had asked before and asked again. People would think I was crazy if I kept pushing this point, and maybe that was why I did it.
“He’s wearing a thick jacket. A hat. I think that’s a scarf tucked into his collar. And look at those heavy boots.”
“Well, maybe it’s cold outside.”
“No. Look at the other people. Jeans and a T-shirt. That girl is wearing flip-flops.” Innocent people with no idea who stood in their midst. “And it was sixty-five degrees at that location on the date and time this still frame was taken. Brisk, but not enough for all those layers.”
Hennessey was silent a moment. Conceding my point, I thought. “Why does it matter?” he asked finally.
I shook my head, finally turning to face him. I had no answer for that. It shouldn’t matter, but it did. Laguardia was one of the most powerful men in existence. He could build empires and topple governments. He was a fucking machine. But he had a flaw, and that made him human. It made him catchable. And I was going to catch him.
CHAPTER FIVE
By the end of the week, my neck was sore, my back was stiff, and my body hummed with a kind of expectant energy. I filled the bathtub with steaming water and threw in a ball of moisturizing bath fizz. The scent of lavender filled the small room, riding on the steam. A thin film of condensation formed on the bathroom mirror, turning my naked body hazy and blurred. I was prettier this way, I thought. Surface only, out of focus. Drunk college guys had certainly thought so, but then they probably said that to any girl.
I stepped into the bath and let the hot water wash away all my tension. I’d never understood the appeal of hooking up, but I’d done it. Anything to be normal, to pretend to be normal. So I’d hit the clubs with some friends and find a random guy to disappoint me twice before morning. Get dressed. Walk away. Forget his name. Had I even asked for it? Whatever. Typical college student. Things were a little trickier as an adult. Now guys wanted to date. They were thinking about commitment, about starting a family.
No,
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