The cabinets were jam-packed with files on every subject imaginable. One entire row that had to be fourteen feet long and five feet high held nothing but math papers. It looked like every math paper Zahn had ever completed in his life.

Cabinet after cabinet after cabinet was crammed with the paper detritus of Zahn’s life, and everything he had ever found odd or interesting or pertinent or relevant. All of it alphabetized or otherwise organized, of course. There was just so much of it. Cabinets of financial records, copies of medical records, articles on the nature of genius and the mysteries of autism and its cousins.

“Can I help?” Nasser asked.

“I’m looking for any kind of a file pertaining to Marissa or Haley Fordham.”

“Okay. I’ll start over here.”

They worked quietly for what seemed like hours. Finally, just when Vince thought his eyes were going to give out in the poor light, he found it. The file was simply marked M. He pulled the folder out of the drawer and studied the document.

“What is it?” Nasser asked, trying to get a look.

Vince closed the folder. “Motive.”

He carried the folder into the hospital with him and went in search of Mendez, finding him in the ICU, staring through the glass wall into Gina Kemmer’s room with Darren Bordain standing beside him.

“How is she?” Vince asked.

“No change. No better. No worse,” Mendez said. “We tracked down her family in Reseda. Her parents are on their way.”

“Good. That might make a difference if she can hear their voices.”

“I wanted to go in and talk to her,” Bordain said.

“Family only,” Mendez said.

“My friends are my family. Gina and Marissa were part of the group.”

“Rules are rules,” Vince said. He locked eyes with Mendez and tipped his head away from Bordain.

They took three steps to the side before Mendez spoke quietly. “Zahn didn’t make it.”

Vince sighed.

“The surgeon said they would get one leak plugged and another would spring. That was a hell of a big knife. Between the damage to the organs, the blood loss and sepsis, he just wasn’t strong enough to pull through.”

“Maybe he’ll find some peace now.”

Vince thought of what Nasser had said: He’s such a fragile soul. It’s like he was never meant for this world, you know.

Maybe he would find more compassion in the next one.

Mendez’s eye finally caught on the manila file folder tucked under Vince’s arm. “What’s that?”

“This?” Vince asked, as if he had forgotten about it. He handed the folder to Mendez. “A little light reading.”

Mendez flipped it open and looked the document over from top to bottom twice, his eyes going wide.

“Ho-ly shit.”

“Yeah.” Vince nodded. “I thought you might say that.”

Chapter 78

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