He glanced back at Lia.
“Why does everyone keep looking at me?” she snapped. “I found the package. I didn’t send it. If the DNA on the hair doesn’t come back as a match, maybe you should think about asking Cassie some questions.”
“Me?” I asked incredulously.
“You wanted in on this case,” Lia retorted. “And now the killer contacts you out of the blue? How lucky for you.”
I couldn’t tell if Lia believed what she was saying or not. It didn’t matter, because Briggs had already turned his diamond-hard gaze on me.
“Cassie didn’t do this.”
I hadn’t even realized that Dean was in the room until he spoke. Clearly, neither had the agents. Briggs actually jumped.
“Cassie’s not the type to play games.” Dean’s voice brooked no doubt. “The entire reason she wanted to work on this case is that she thinks it has something to do with her mother’s murder. Why would she risk diverting manpower and resources away from the real investigation when she knows the killer is escalating? If this is a prank, it’s a prank that’s going to get someone killed.”
The knot in my chest loosened. I looked at Dean, and suddenly, I could breathe.
“Dean’s right.” Locke’s voice sounded exactly like mine when I was working my way through a puzzle. “If Cassie wanted in on this case, she’d just find a way to keep working it on her own.”
I tried very hard not to look conspicuous—because that was exactly what I’d been trying to do.
“Cassie, did you or did you not drop this case when I told you to?” Briggs took a step forward, invading my personal space. “Have you done anything that might have drawn the killer’s attention?”
I shook my head—no to both questions. Briggs’s hand fell back to his side. He clenched his jaw again. For the second time, Dean intervened.
“All Cassie did was give a copy of the case file to me.”
Every pair of eyes in the room turned to Dean. Normally, he stood and walked like someone who wanted to disappear into the woodwork, but today, his shoulders were back, his jaw set.
“I read the file. I profiled it. And I think Cassie’s right.” Dean leveled his gaze at Agent Briggs. “These women are stand-ins, and I think there’s a very real chance that the person they’re standing in for is Cassie’s mother.”
“You’ve never even seen the Lorelai Hobbes case file,” Briggs shot back. My mother’s name hit me like a punch to the stomach.
“I’ve seen Cassie’s mother’s picture,” Dean argued. “I’ve seen the human hair that someone just sent to Cassie as a gift.”
Briggs listened to every word Dean had to say, an intense look of concentration on his face. “You’re not authorized to work this case,” he said finally.
Dean shrugged. “I know.”
“You are not going to be working this case.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to pretend that we never had this conversation.”
“Liar,” Lia coughed.
Briggs was not amused. “You may leave the room, Lia.”
Lia clasped her hands together. “Oh, Mother, may I?”
Dean made a choking sound. I wasn’t entirely certain, but he might have been swallowing a laugh.
“Now, Lia.”
After a long moment and a glare aimed at the room as a whole, Lia twirled on her toes and stalked out of the room. Once he was sure Lia was gone, Agent Briggs turned to Agent Locke. “Do you think this case is related to the Lorelai Hobbes case?”
I didn’t flinch when he said my mother’s name a second time. I concentrated on the fact that Lia was correct: Briggs had no intention of forgetting what Dean had told him.
I think Cassie’s right.
“I don’t know that it matters whether the two cases are related or not,” Locke answered finally. “Cassie’s hair is red. She’s a bit younger than the other victims, but otherwise, she fits the profile of this killer’s victims, and more importantly, our UNSUB is escalating. If you assume the last victim’s hair was dyed as a message, that means this guy is playing with us. And if he’s playing with us, there’s a sizable chance that he’s watching us.” Agent Locke rubbed the back of her hand wearily over her brow. “If he’s watching us, he could have followed us here, and if he followed us here, he could have seen Cassie.”
Briggs’s phone rang before he could reply. By the time he hung up, I already knew what the next words out of his mouth were going to be.
“We’ve got another body.”
YOU
You watch the FBI agents scurrying around the crime scene like ants. This particular corpse is not your best work. You killed her last night, and already, her screams have faded from your ears. Her face is still recognizable—more or less.
You used scissors this time instead of your knife.
But that’s not the point. Not this time. This time, the point is that the gift you sent sweet little Cassandra Hobbes was the real thing.
The pathetic little slut lying lifeless on the pavement is just a piece of the plan. You abandoned her body at dawn, knowing that it wouldn’t be discovered immediately. You’d hoped—prayed, even—that Cassie would be there when the agents got the call.
Did you scream when you opened the box, Cassie? Did you think about me? Am I the thought that keeps you up at night? There’s so much you want to ask her.
So much you want to tell her.
The rest of the world will never understand. The FBI will never know the inner workings of your brain.
They’ll never know how close you are.
But Cassie—she’s going to know everything. The two of you are connected. Cassie is her mother’s daughter—and that’s as close as you’re ever going to get.
CHAPTER 28
Two days later, the hair from the black box came back as a match for the UNSUB’s latest victim.
“I’ll accept gifts in lieu of an apology,” Lia told Agent Locke. “Any time now is fine.”
Locke didn’t reply. The three of us—along with Briggs, Michael, and Dean—were in Briggs’s study. Sloane was nowhere to be seen.
You sent me a piece of hair. I couldn’t keep from talking to the killer in my head, couldn’t keep from thinking about the present and what it meant that the UNSUB had sent it to me. Was she screaming when you cut it off? Did you use the scissors to cut her afterward? Was it ever even about her? Or was it about me? About my mother?