She was her own person. Always had been. Figured that out really early when her parents put her out to con people. Cute little blonde girl couldn’t be a pickpocket. Cute little blonde girl couldn’t be faking that injury. Cute little blonde girl could cry on cue.

She had hated herself for a long time for going along with all the stupid scams and cons. And when she put an end to it—when she finally stood up for herself—she vowed she would never be used again. By anyone. By her parents. By her boss. By any man she chose to sleep with. She didn’t need anyone to do it for her. And fuck everyone who tried to use, manipulate, maim or kill those around her. They would pay.

“Forgive me, Kara,” Matt said. “Please forgive me.”

He sounded sincere. He looked like he actually felt bad for what he’d done, but she didn’t want his pity.

“Nothing to forgive,” she said. “You’re a fed. You believe other feds. It is what it is.”

“I didn’t believe or disbelieve him. I listened, then I asked you.”

She tried to calm down. She usually did much better at keeping her anger under control. “Look, Matt, I’m happy to have this case. You know that—I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. I wouldn’t be helping you if I didn’t want to help. This psycho needs to be stopped, and if I can protect my friend Brian from getting a knife to his gut, I’ll do it, no question. But this time next week you’ll be back wherever it is you’re from, and I’ll be back in LA battling to save my case or working my next one. Maybe one day our cases will collide and if you’re unattached and I’m unattached I would be happy to share your bed again. But I’m not naive, and neither are you.”

“And that’s it?”

“It is for now.” She pointed to the clock over the fireplace. “One minute to midnight. Showtime.”

41

Tuesday, March 9
Spokane
6:00 a.m.

Matt didn’t sleep much when he got back to the hotel—he crashed around three in the morning and woke up just after five, but immediately he was thinking that they needed to catch Glen Hamilton today and started running through a variety of scenarios on how to do it.

Matt’s team—and most importantly Catherine—believed that he was the Triple Killer, but they had nothing more than a theory—which meant they had no warrant. They couldn’t run his credit, they couldn’t look at his bank statements, they couldn’t grab his phone records. The AUSA said if they could prove that the John Doe in Bozeman was Hamilton’s father, Zachary, they might be able to get a limited warrant for Glen Hamilton’s travel, phone, and credit statements. If Matt’s team could prove that Hamilton was in the same cities at the same time as the Triple Killer, the warrant could be expanded. They’d called his phone through a secure, private line. No answer. The voice mail was automated. Matt hadn’t left a message.