But Larkin was already in the bullpen. He ignored the sidelong look from Porter as he opened John Doe’s accordion file, which he’d rubber-banded to Marco Garcia’s, and removed the first piece of evidence that’d not only led to the correct conclusion that the DB in the IKEA bag could be tied to Marco’s murder twenty-three years after the fact, but that both unsolved murders were no longer cold, due to the prompting of the April Fools’ letter.

I HAVE A BETTER MEMENTO FOR YOU

The death portrait of the teenage girl, circa 1985.

Larkin turned it facedown on the desk and set the fax beside it just as Connor loomed over his shoulder. “This handwriting is quite distinct,” he said before his lieutenant could speak. “See how it slants up and down—here and here—with this very consistent shake in certain letters—you’ll see it especially in the curve of the lowercase e’s. It’s identical to that seen on the back of this postmortem photograph.”

“This writer have a stroke or get conked on the head?” Connor grumbled as he studied the two side-by-side.

Larkin winced. The first time he’d held a pen after August 2, 2002—his mother tried to convince him he was right-handed, but he knew, instinctually, she was lying—he couldn’t remember how to write his name. He knew how to spell, hadn’t forgotten the alphabet, but when his physical therapist helped him put pen to paper and asked he write his own name… nothing. It had been the first of many brain-to-body disconnects that’d forced Larkin to relearn a skill, and every time it’d been utterly terrifying.

“It’s neither,” Larkin said before clearing his throat. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth, to slow his accelerating heart rate. “The writer has switched to their nondominant hand, is all—as a means of concealing handwriting that might otherwise be identifiable.” Meeting Connor’s forbidding expression, he said, “The perp—one makes the assumption for it to be this Archie Bunker character—has already established they know of me, have an interest in me.” Larkin pointed to the death portrait and read aloud, “Deliver me to Detective Larkin.”

Connor snatched the fax. He folded it in half, considering, before saying very quietly, “Just because they used a police acronym doesn’t mean they’re in uniform.”

“This is true.” Larkin added, keeping his voice low, “but the April Fools’ letter had insider information—the o’s were created with the Department of Parks and Recreation logo. The media hadn’t been privy to that detail.”

Connor looked down at Larkin.

“This person is also responsible for the killings of these youth in the photographs I keep dredging up. Archie is either someone who knew Harry Regmore during his reign, or someone with access to insider information.”