But what she understood now—in the car, his arm squeezing her, the town quiet and sterile, the far trees the only swaying, moving things in sight—what she understood was that she didn’t know what it was that, for him, constituted her being hurt. Because she’d been hurt plenty of times, and he’d never done much.

She thought he’d have to find her dead somewhere to raise that kind of response in him, from him, in order for him to become the person that she always knew he could be.

    Chapter Nineteen

After dropping Kaito off at work, Izabel did go to the mall. She filled the script for Niravam that Opa had written her, and with the new pills in her bag, Izabel went to the privacy pods. There was Sasha behind his desk. And there was Patrick again in the waiting room. Both of them were the approximate size and height of the killer. She wanted to take one of the pills, but she didn’t know if she’d fall asleep or not be able to get herself home. She sat down as calmly as she could.

Patrick seemed to light up at the sight of her. “How’ve you been?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. And maybe she said it a little coldly because she was tense, alone in a room with two men, two men who fit the description.

Patrick couldn’t hide his response to that coldness—he looked disappointed.

So she added, more warmly, “How about you?”

“Good,” he said. “I guess you didn’t get approved for travel either.” But something in the way he said it sounded rehearsed.

“It’s a long story,” she said.

But he didn’t ask for the story. He said, “Need some time again today?”

“I do,” she said. “And you’re working again?”

“Yes,” he said. He tapped his briefcase with his foot.

And then Sasha called her name.

“Me?” she asked, thinking he’d call Patrick first, and looking back at him.

Sasha nodded.

“It’s fine,” Patrick said.

So Izabel went back, and in the pod, she began to write.

Dear Killer,

Here are the things I’ve imagined I will do to you once we catch you: I will stand over your body and laugh. I will raise one bent leg onto your body like you are a land I have discovered. I will pee on you. I will kick you until you are dead. I will choke you until you are dead. I will punch your face, but not until you are dead, and I will watch how your face swells.

She shredded it.

Dear Killer,

Here are the things I couldn’t do to you even though I hate you: I could not have you open your mouth and rest your top teeth on a hard surface and then stomp on your head so that your teeth break.

And maybe that’s it.