This last week has been a bitter disappointment, truth be told. An opening move in any game should be as bold as the master’s. I’m afraid that each one of these offerings, all six of them, were merely false starts. Oh, their screams were music to my soul, and I made sure each of them said your name several times. I would never, truly never, forget to include you, my friend. Yet I am sure you are as disappointed as I. This week should’ve held more meaning for both of us. But, as you know, plans were made to be altered. I hope to find more meaning with originals rather than inelegant copies. I shall see you soon.

Your friend,
Henry

PS On first glance, the game can only be played according to the limitations on each piece, unless you’re the master of the game.

Angus needed to throw up. He swallowed, keeping his expression as stoic as possible. Finally, proof that he’d been right. He should feel vindicated, but all he felt was exhausted. The bastard was alive and Angus had known it the entire time. “Well. I guess this answers all questions.” He shoved the copy back to Tate.

Detective Buckle snorted. “Right. My guess is that you wrote this to throw us off. Or maybe there are two personalities in that alcoholic head of yours? It’d be a damn good defense tactic.”

“Excuse me?” Angus said, focusing on the woman.

She smiled. “Yeah. Hotshot FBI agent takes down a monster, can’t live with the dead haunting him, and reinvents the monster with a second personality. Is that what happened? Is that your defense?” She leaned toward him again, bringing the oddest scent of lilies. “Come on, Force. Tell us what happened.”

Scott pushed away from the table. “This interview is finished. Do not harass my client again.” He waited until Angus stood and then preceded him out the door.

Angus’s head swam as he strode out of the building, ignoring the stares of other cops. “What do you think?”

“My opinion?” Scott asked, walking gracefully down the steps to the sidewalk. “They’re going to arrest you within the week.”

Nari dressed in a navy-blue skirt suit for her first day with her new team. Her shoes were Louboutin, her shirt Gucci, and her attitude one of confidence as she strode into the new office. Three men had gathered around the table right inside the door, and Vaughn looked up from a series of maps. “You came. I thought you were leaving town.”

“No.” She didn’t offer an explanation.

“Well.” Vaughn stood while the other three men just stared. “In order to be on this team, you can’t be hanging out with suspected serial killers. Is that understood?”