“No. No way.” Emma tries to do the rear-sight blurring technique that Bell instructed was best form. “I was thinking about it last night. I want to go see the sister. The twin.”

“She lives just outside Richmond, right? In some kind of private clinic?”

“Yep. I’m going to call her lawyer and ask to visit. I have a feeling Kristin Gutmunsson will have some insight on how to manage her brother.”

“The police might have already exhausted that option. You know what it was like after Huxton.”

“True.” She relaxes her stance and puts the gun down. Her right hand is already aching from tension and pulling the trigger. “But I’ll bet you ten dollars the police never used a teenage interviewer to talk with her.”

Bell squints. “Not just a teenager—a girl. It’s worth a try.”

“It is. All right, now stop being delicate and give me some ammunition.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You ready for it?”

“I’d better be.”

Bell shows her how to load. She puts in the last three bullets herself. Now they don their earmuffs, and Emma picks up her weapon again.

She wants to feel powerful, stronger, shooting the gun—and when she squeezes the trigger gently and her arm jolts back with the kick, she does get a sense of elation. But it lasts only as long as the shot’s echo. When that’s gone, the ever-tightening knot under her ribs is still there.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Around midday on Monday, Emma emerges from Petersburg prison after interviewing Michael Gesak. Sunshine has broken through the clouds, making everything seem bright. It’s the exact opposite of her internal landscape right now. Back in the truck, Bell’s face is stormy as he yanks off his tie and tosses it on the seat.

“Four girls. He didn’t even bury them—”

“Let’s not go over it again.” Emma’s limbs feel heavy as she buckles her seat belt.

They handed in the McMurtry report yesterday, on Sunday morning, and received instructions for the Gesak interview last night. When Emma questioned the utility of keeping up with the interviews, Cooper—still wearing a tie at eight in the evening, his jacket in the crook of his arm—just directed them both to the Gesak summary.

“Simon Gutmunsson might have leads on the Pennsylvania case, but he’s not the only game in town, Miss Lewis. I meant it when I said the offender interviews were important. Hell, I still want the results of the interviews. It’s what I’m paying you for.”

But Gesak was tough, and now Bell stares out the windshield, looking lost. “Jesus. Why are some guys so fucked up?”

“It’s a kind of sickness, I think. Or a defect of the soul.” Emma follows the line of his eyes, but there’s nothing for them to see out there except a few windblown trees on the perimeter of the Petersburg compound. “Cooper said we’re waging a war, and I think to some extent he’s right.”

Bell scrubs a hand through his hair. “I want to contain it. It’s why I’m in training—I want to protect people from it.”