“I don’t need to. I’m going to put this folder down right here. Take it. See the files. Read the proof I assembled. Conduct your own research—I don’t expect you to execute a killer on a stranger’s say-so. Draw your own conclusions. Then see the proof with your own eyes. I mentioned a third girl. He goes to visit her body every Friday. He can’t help himself. That file shows where to find her. Go there, wait for him, confront him, and end his miserable life. If you do that, the Hunt will come.”

Todd got as far as the parking lot. Then he sat me on the hood of the car and dangled a toy, whispering to me, “It’s okay, it’s okay. We’ll go home. Mommy will be there and everything will be fine. Just…”

I whimpered, picking up on his anxiety.

His gaze swiveled to the park. A long pause. Then, with a kiss on my forehead, he scooped me up, strode back, and grabbed the folder.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

That whirlwind hit again, memories whipping past. Then I was walking through a forest. It was night, and I had a flashlight in my pocket, but I didn’t take it out. I could see well enough, even if it was only a quarter moon above. I could always see fine, and even when the clouds hid that moon, my feet instinctively stayed on the path.

A rustle sounded as I pulled something from my pocket, unwrapping it and popping it into my mouth. A mint, despite the fact my mouth already tasted of mint. My stomach twisted, and I chewed as I walked, knowing I should let the candy last, but I needed something to do, something to focus on. Swallow the mint. Unwrap another.

I remembered when I’d first gone to see Todd, making my way through a whole pack of spearmint gum, one stick after another, both to give me something to do and to calm my queasy stomach. This felt the same, anxiety making my stomach churn, breath coming hard.

“Stupid. Fucking stupid. I shouldn’t be here.”

I muttered the words, but the voice I heard was Todd’s.

I should be at home, with Pam and Eden. No, I should be out with Pam. It’s date night.

I’d had to make an excuse, and I’d seen the worry on Pam’s face.

“If you want to go out for a drink with the guys, you can just tell me that,” she’d said.

“No, course not. It’s work.”

She’d been quiet for a moment. Then, “You’re happy, right?”

“What? Sure. Of course.”

“I know it’s tough on you, working two jobs, worrying about Eden, the medical bills, the mortgage. I worry…”