I can practically hear Rivas's attention sharpen through the phone. "What about Dr. Shaw?"
"She's been around recently. Asking questions, showing up at places she shouldn't be. My aunt remembered her from the funeral, said she seemed…wrong somehow. Not like someone who was there to grieve." I inject genuine uncertainty into my voice. "I'm scared, Detective Rivas. What if she's involved somehow? What if the person who killed my father has been watching me all this time?"
The silence stretches long enough that I wonder if I've overplayed my hand. Then Rivas clears his throat, and I can hear the protective instinct I've been counting on engaging.
"Delilah, I want you to listen to me carefully. If you think you're being watched or threatened, I need to know immediately. Can you come to the station tomorrow? I want totake an official statement, and I want to make sure you have proper protection."
"You believe me?" The relief in my voice is only partially performed, because having Rivas take this seriously means my strategy is working.
"I believe that you're scared, and I believe that your observations deserve investigation. After what happened to your father, after what you went through…you've earned the right to have your concerns taken seriously."
Perfect. He's already positioning me as a victim who deserves protection rather than a suspect who deserves scrutiny. Delilah Jenkins is working her magic, transforming a potential threat into an ally.
"Thank you," I whisper, letting him hear the tears I'm not shedding. "I've been so alone with this, so afraid that no one would believe me."
"You're not alone, Delilah. Not anymore. Come in tomorrow at ten a.m., and we'll figure this out together. In the meantime, if anything else happens—if you see Dr. Shaw again, if you notice anyone watching you—you call me immediately. Day or night."
"I will. Detective Rivas? Thank you for still caring about what happened to my father. I know you never stopped trying to find his killer."
"And I never will," he says, voice heavy with the weight of nine years of unresolved guilt. "See you tomorrow, sweetheart. Stay safe."
I end the call and set the phone aside, my hands steady despite the emotional manipulation I've just orchestrated. Kent is watching me with something that might be awe or might be concern.
"How do you feel?" he asks.
"Like I just took control of Shaw's psychological experiment," I say, settling back into his arms. "She's been studying Dr. Lila North's responses to trauma and pressure. But tomorrow, Detective Rivas is going to meet Delilah Jenkins—scared, vulnerable, seeking protection from the very people Shaw has been trying to turn against me."
"And Delilah Jenkins has never been a suspect."
"Delilah Jenkins is a victim. Someone who deserves protection and support, not investigation and surveillance." I trace patterns against Kent's chest, my mind already working through the performance I'll need to give tomorrow. "Shaw won't see this move coming because she's been focused on the wrong identity."
Kent's arms tighten around me. "You're magnificent when you're strategic."
The compliment sends warmth through me, because he understands exactly what I've just accomplished. I've taken Shaw's own methodology—using psychological manipulation to achieve specific outcomes—and turned it against her. Tomorrow I'll walk into that police station and transform myself from suspect into victim, from threat into someone who needs protection.
It's my move in this chess match, and Shaw won't realize what's happened until it's too late to counter.
"Tomorrow I become Delilah Jenkins again," I say, already mentally preparing for the psychological costume I'll need to wear. "And Detective Rivas gets the chance to finally catch the Carver."
Even if the Carver he catches isn't the one he's expecting.
Chapter 28 - Kent
The drive to Metro PD passes in comfortable silence, both of us lost in mental preparation for the performance we're about to give. Lila sits in my passenger seat wearing what I've come to think of as her "professional victim" outfit—a soft cardigan in muted blue over dark jeans, minimal makeup that makes her look younger, more vulnerable. The transformation from Dr. Lila North to Delilah Jenkins is subtle but complete, down to the way she holds her shoulders slightly hunched, protective.
We've already gone over our story three times, but I find myself running through it again as I navigate traffic toward downtown. The partially true version we settled on feels solid enough to withstand scrutiny while protecting the most dangerous details.
"Kent and I met at the café where I worked," Lila had said during our final rehearsal this morning. "My father questioned him about the Carver killings because Kent fit the general witness description. Dad didn't like that I was friendly with someone older, so he went to scare him off. That's how we knew each other—casual acquaintance from work, complicated by my father's overprotectiveness."
It's brilliant because it incorporates documented truth—Harry Jenkins did question me, there are probably records of that interaction, and Delilah did work at that café. But it repositions our connection as an innocent teenage interaction that her father disapproved of, rather than the complex psychological bond that actually developed through our correspondence.
"Nervous?" I ask as we turn onto the street that houses Metro PD headquarters.
"Excited," she corrects, and there's something predatory in her voice that reminds me of the woman who took complete control last night. "I've been waiting nine years for another chance to manipulate Detective Rivas."
The casual admission should probably disturb me more than it does. Instead, it makes heat pool in my chest because this is Lila at her most honest—acknowledging her own capacity for strategic manipulation without shame or self-recrimination. She understands herself clearly enough to weaponize her own trauma history.
We park in the visitor lot, and I can see Lila's transformation complete itself as we walk toward the building. Her stride becomes slightly shorter, less confident. Her expression shifts to something more open, more seeking of protection. By the time we reach the front entrance, she's become Delilah Jenkins so completely that I almost believe the performance myself.
