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Jack grunted. "I don't see--"
"No, but I'll bet Dee does."
As she said that, I realized what she was getting at and spit out the word she wanted. "Vigilantism."
Jack shook his head. "After, what, ten years? Longer for Lee."
I hated pursuing this, but it was an angle that needed to be considered. "If that's what this is, vigilantism would likely be an excuse. Someone who's justifying his actions by choosing people one could argue escaped justice."
"Is that common?" Evelyn said. "Vigilantes as common killers looking for justification?"
I met her gaze straight on. "It's one explanation. Sometimes you'll find people ganging together to protect a neighborhood, calling themselves vigilantes, when all they really want is an excuse to bust some heads. It's a more likely explanation than 'pure' vigilantism--someone with...an overdeveloped sense of justice."
"Doesn't make sense," Jack said. "Hitmen kill. Don't need an excuse."
"Isn't money an excuse?" Evelyn said. "What if we're talking about a hitman who got to liking it, then needed to find another reason to keep doing it when no one was paying?"
"There may have also been a precipitating event," I found myself saying. "If someone close to him was recently the victim of a crime, and went unpunished, that may have set him off."
"Would it?" Evelyn's eyes turned my way.
I locked gazes with her. "Yes, it's one factor."
"Still not buying this," Jack said. "Two out of six. What're you telling me? The other four killed someone? If this guy found them--"
"Then it must be a matter of public record, which rules out more arrests because I haven't uncovered any. But there are a lot of ways for someone to be responsible for a death." She paused. "Something someone did. Something he failed to do."
I could hear my heart thumping, each breath getting harder to take. Was she mocking me?
I focused so hard pain exploded behind my eyes, but I lifted my head to fix her with my calmest, most guileless stare...only she wasn't looking at me. Her gaze was fixed on Jack.
A look passed between them, but I caught only a glimpse of it before Jack shrugged, face blank once more.
"Maybe," he said. "Only way to find out? Check it out."
Jack followed through on his skepticism by heading off to bed. He had another long day coming and little sleep from the night before. If we wanted to research this angle, we could do it without him.
That meant I was left alone with Evelyn. I could have followed Jack, made the same excuse. But if Evelyn had anything to say to me, better to hear it now, and clarify where I stood with this new "partner."
She sat down at her computer and started flipping through sites, waiting just long enough to ensure Jack wasn't changing his mind. Then she turned to me.
"I offended you," she said. "With that vigilante angle."
I settled back in my seat, notepad on my knee. "I don't offend easily." I smiled to underscore my point. "But, yes, I can get a little prickly about the word. Chalk it up to my cop side. 'Vigilante' means some yahoo trying to do our job--implying that we can't handle it--and usually getting in our way."
"But the underlying concept is a person who takes justice into his own hands. Which I think you're familiar with?"
I considered my next words carefully, aware of the weight of her gaze on me. I could sing the "I'm only in it for the money" song. But take my past, put it together with my current line of work, and even Jack had known, from the start, why I was in this. That's why he'd never suggested I branch out, try anything more lucrative. Knocking off a couple of wiseguys a year? Sure. Killing someone's wife to convey a message? Never. Not even if that one job would equal years of work for the Tomassinis.
So I only looked at Evelyn and said, "Does that bother you?"
"Not a bit, as long as I'm not in danger of being murdered in my bed. I can't say I understand it, but it does have its advantages."
"Advantages?"
"Drive. Passion. Sometimes, in this job, it can be more important than keeping your cool. And certainly more interesting." She turned back to her computer. "Now, let's see what we can find."
I spent the next two hours with Evelyn as she cruised the information highway, letting me tag along at the far end of the towing rope. Evelyn bobbed between the two levels of the Internet, searching the mainstream Web and its underground tendrils. When she pulled a particularly clever maneuver, she'd pull in my towline and let me see what she was doing, but when it came to the nuts-and-bolts of surfing the underbelly, she'd block her keystrokes or shift in front of the monitor, all the while promising to show me this part "another time." In other words, she wowed me with fancy footwork, but held back on the basic steps, like a dance teacher offering a free lesson to encourage a prospective student to shell out for the full course.
