“It’s not that,” he said. “This is pretty compelling. But it’s my job to be unconvinced until I’m convinced.”

“You are preaching to the choir,” she said. “I know this man better than just about anyone. He’s got more lives than a cat. So I’m not inclined to accept this completely until I get official verification. If I had my way, they’d stitch the chunks back together so I could get confirmation that way.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath on that,” Murph said, in what Jessie interpreted as an attempt at humor.

“Maybe not,” she agreed, smiling grimly. “I guess when your whole life is spent worrying that the boogeyman is going to get you, it’s kind of hard to accept that he’s no longer a threat. It’s almost as if that’s his final, sick way of messing with me—making me doubt he’s gone even when he’s in little pieces.”

“Burn him,” Toomey said.

“What?’ Jessie asked, equally surprised that the guy was speaking and by what he said.

“Have him cremated. Watch his bones burn. It’s what they did with plague victims in the Middle Ages to remove all trace of the infection. Burn out the psychological infection by watching him turn to ash.”

“Wow, Toomey,” she marveled. “You are a seriously dark guy.”

“You should hang out with him around Halloween,” Murph deadpanned. “He’s a blast.”

“I’ll bet.”

“One good thing,” Murph noted. “If this turns out to be legit, we’re down to one guy hunting you. That’s a fifty percent reduction in serial killer threats.”

“You’re really going for the ‘glass half full’ take, aren’t you?” Jessie said.

“I take my wins where I can get them.”

“Fair enough,” she said, then transitioned awkwardly to the other issue foremost in her mind. “As long as we’re here, you mind if I visit Hernandez? I haven’t had a chance to check in on him since the whole stabbing thing.”

Murph looked briefly like he might balk, then seemed to change his mind.

“I’ll have Collica and Emerson clear the floor. Then we can head up.”

As he spoke into his comm, Jessie looked back at the carcass-strewn courtyard. Part of her felt guilty that the sight filled her with no sense of loss.

But only a small part.

*

“Who are you?”

From his hospital bed, Detective Ryan Hernandez was feigning a look of confusion.

“Very funny,” Jessie said as she entered the room. Murph and Toomey had graciously agreed to wait outside.

“I mean, you kind of look like a gal I partnered with from time to time,” he continued, keeping an impressively straight face. “But I haven’t seen her in like, forever, so you can’t be her.”

Jessie didn’t reply, waiting to see if she would have to put up with more ribbing. She deserved it. Even if visiting him had been a risk, the remorse she felt at not doing it ate at her.

She looked him over. He still had the same close-cropped dark hair and warm brown eyes she knew so well. But his face was covered in stubble, which she almost never saw. And in the hospital gown, even his well-muscled six-foot, two-hundred-pound frame looked frail. His skin was unusually sallow and he looked worn out.