With his free hand, Larkin grabbed the evidence bags containing the Polaroids and Andrew’s death mask. “Is CSU still at Ricky’s apartment.”

“Oh yeah. You saw it—crawled around in it, actually. They’ll be there all damn night.”

Larkin reached into his suit coat, retrieved the photos Jessica had supplied him with before the shooting, then stood. He cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder while shrugging the coat off and draping it over the back of his chair. “Have they found masks or more Polaroids.”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Keep on them.”

“Hang on,” Bosman said. “What for? Ricky confessed, didn’t he? About your cold case?”

“Yes, but he’s lying.”

“He… is?”

Larkin sat again. He placed the Polaroid victims to the far left, the mask to the right, then evenly spaced Jessica’s mementos in the middle. “Killers like this, they go through a phase of trial and error, figuring out what they like, what works, etcetera. I’m particularly curious if Polaroids continued to be taken, or if that step was phased out in favor of just the death mask construction as they became more nuanced.”

“Suppose CSU doesn’t find any,” Bosman answered. “Doesn’t mean, what were you saying earlier, they were gifts to Ricky? Doesn’t mean anything. Maybe LISK—”

“It’s not LISK.”

“I’m joking.”

“A misspoken joke leads to rumors.”

“Christ.”

“But yes, you are correct,” Larkin continued. “Perhaps the perpetrator kept the rest of the photographs to himself. Or he stopped taking a secondary trophy once he grew more confident in his artistic skills. I can’t say yet—there’s not enough information. But I need confirmation as to whether or not Ricky has more Polaroids.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll follow up. And the masks?”

“I’m ninety-nine percent certain he has none.”

“That one percent?”

“I try not to be overly confident.”

Bosman was laughing again.

“Those masks are important. Under no circumstance would the killer part with them. By proving they’re not in Ricky’s possession, we’re heading in the right direction of discrediting his claim.”

“This is some serial killer bullshit,” Bosman said, but quiet, like he didn’t want his voice to carry.

“Yes.”

Bosman swore.

“Keep that between us.” Larkin provided Bosman with his cell number, asked again to be brought up to date as soon as possible, and hung up.