“As a teenager, she researched our father at the local library. According to her, she determined he’d collected one hundred and fifty-three scraps of skin simply by reading articles in the local papers. No reason the Rose Killer couldn’t go through the same effort—I’d tried a basic Google search but only cursory. According to my sister, the information is out there; you just have to be willing to dig for it. Furthermore, since the Rose Killer is obviously emulating our father, it makes sense he’d include some sort of grand gesture, say, removing precisely one hundred and fifty-three slivers of skin, as an homage to the master. Shana claims she didn’t know that he was doing such a thing. She merely anticipated it. Possessing, after all, a unique insight into the criminal mind.”

“You can say that again,” D.D. muttered.

“Thing is, she also went on to say the killer would’ve looked me up, too. The daughter of Harry Day, who also happens to suffer a unique genetic condition. My very presence calls to him. Meaning he’d be driven to visit my office, even enter my home, possibly under the guise of a deliveryman—”

“What?” D.D. interjected sharply.

“I called my condo building after leaving Shana and asked them if anyone had been inside my unit in the past few months. Mr. Daniels wanted to know if I meant in addition to the worker from the gas company. Apparently, four weeks ago, a uniformed gas company employee showed up, claiming there’d been complaint of a possible leak on my floor. Of course they let the worker inside my condo. Given the risk, Mr. Daniels didn’t enter my unit but stayed outside in the hall . . . He claimed the person didn’t stay inside my home too long, but then again, couldn’t tell me with any specificity how long ‘not too long’ constituted. I called the gas company right afterward. They have no record of receiving such a call or sending someone to my unit.”

“But Mr. Daniels saw the person?” Phil asked immediately. “He can give us a description? Such as we’re definitely looking for a male suspect?”

Adeline paused.

“Oh no,” Phil murmured, already seeing the answer on her face.

“It turns out,” she began.

“Oh no.”

“Upon further examination, Mr. Daniels isn’t exactly sure who he saw. The gas company worker was wearing a hat, pressed low, while carrying a clipboard held high. In fact, he’s not even sure he saw the person’s face.”

“So gas company worker could be a gal or a guy?” D.D. asked, confused.