Jethro typed in a couple of commands. “‘The night grows tired, the energy unleashed upon this moment in time that cannot last. A vision of the abyss, drawing me in, only her face halting the time that must occur in the game of the gods.’”

“What the hell does that mean?” Wolfe grumbled.

Jethro dug his fingers into the back of his neck. “It’s a passage from a set of ramblings by a patient in the Canterbury Mental Hospital in the early nineteen hundreds. His name was Morgan Trowcrow, he was in his early thirties, and he’d murdered his mother before going on to kill seven more women who looked like her.”

“So, his mom stopped the time that had to occur? Until he killed her?” Raider asked.

Jethro lifted a shoulder. “He wrote the passage several years after being admitted, and supposedly he was in love with one of the nurses, who he tried to kill several times. There were notes in a doctor’s journal that the nurse might be the woman to whom he referred, and it’s possible she symbolized the institution that kept him from killing.” He looked at Angus. “Or not. Who knows?”

Malcolm leaned against the counter, stress lines by the sides of his mouth. “How the hell does this help us catch this wacko? I say we just hunt him down and end him.”

Wolfe nodded. “I like that plan.”

“So do I,” Angus mused. “Brigid? Any luck with facial rec and CCTVs around town?”

“No. I haven’t spotted him once,” Brigid said. “He’s good at hiding, and he manages to blend in when he needs to. I’ll keep looking, though.”

Dana reached for a homemade bagel from the tray on the coffee table. “I’ve been trying to track down financial records but haven’t found anything. Lassiter obviously had a lot of money stashed away or he wouldn’t have been able to survive these last few years. So far, nothing. He really is smart.”

Angus nodded. “Madness and genius are often flip sides of the same coin.” He focused on Raider. “Any news on who has been trying to kill me?”

Malcolm stepped forward. “We’ve narrowed it down to a couple of the cult members we busted a year ago; we can’t find one of them. He disappeared off the grid when he was released from prison, so we’re calling in more favors to locate him. He’s our best bet right now.”

“Sounds good,” Angus said. “Is there any connection between him and the guy who shot my lawyer?”

“Not yet,” Brigid answered. “I haven’t found anything. Also, the dead guy who bombed your cabin? There’s nothing in our records, and HDD has reached out to Interpol, but nothing so far. I’ll keep on it.”