“The first thing that lawyer will do is petition to have it moved.”

Andy nodded. “He’ll argue that a jury of his peers from this town will be biased against him.”

“And he’s not wrong about that, is he?” Paz said.

“I have to talk to Kaito about it.”

“Yeah, yeah. And it’s no rush. Just wanted to make the offer.”

“Thanks,” Izabel said.

And Paz left them.

Andy said, “I need to go pick up Hestia. But you better come see us before you move anywhere.”

“We will,” Izabel said.

Now it was just Izabel and Opa standing there. Izabel said, “I guess you’ll want to see me soon?”

“I don’t care when you come in, but I want you to lean on me as much as you need to. A trial is a difficult thing.”

“You coming to the capital, too?”

“No,” Opa said. “But before that. And I know some good people there who I can refer you to.”

“Can we sit?” Izabel said.

They walked over to some chairs. Behind them was another poster. There wasn’t a monster on this one, but a shadowy portal, drawn in the same style. This one had a placard underneath it. It read: Monsters of Our Past, Monsters of Our Present. It had information about the installation, how the posters wouldn’t be framed, how they would be scattered through the town. And it had information about the artist, an accountant, an officer’s wife, who had been drawing since she was little. This was her passion project. Her side project. Maybe her exploration of humanity’s dark side, too, as she felt it. And maybe she was actually processing her feelings, through her art, in a healthy way.

“You look pale, Izabel,” Opa said.

Izabel looked away from the poster. “Am I like him?” she asked.

“Like Patrick? No. And I never thought you were. I never thought you could be the killer.”

“Never?”

“Never,” Opa said.

“You told me to be careful of the moment when you realize you don’t have control.”

“Is that how you feel now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I feel like I have no control or more control than I’d ever dreamed of having. We had a plan and it worked.”

“It did.”

“I want to go work with Paz.”

“But?”

“I don’t know if it’s my ego making that decision.”

Opa smiled at her. “You’re about ten minutes out from an exhilarating interview. Give yourself a break. Give yourself a minute.”

“Do the elevator exercise?” Izabel joked.

“Never a bad idea,” she said.

Izabel rubbed her eyes.

“You should go home,” Opa said. “The adrenaline is going to wear off and you’re going to crash.”

Izabel nodded.