It's perfect misdirection—acknowledging our previous contact while positioning my presence as a protective concern rather than a suspicious involvement. Rivas nods, his attention shifting back to Lila as the primary focus of this meeting.
"Delilah, why don't you tell me what's been concerning you?"
Lila takes a shaky breath, leaning forward slightly in her chair. "Detective, I've been following the news about these murders. The ones they're calling copycat killings. And the details…they match what I remember from that night. The way the bodies are positioned, the surgical precision, the time spent at each scene."
"What makes you think they're connected to your father's case specifically?"
"The methodology is identical," she says, letting genuine knowledge inform her response. "Whoever is doing this understands my father's killer's methods perfectly. Too perfectly for it to be a coincidence."
Rivas makes notes, his expression growing more serious. "Have you noticed anything else? Any unusual contact, anyone watching you, anything that might suggest you're being targeted?"
This is where Lila's performance becomes crucial, where she has to plant suspicion about Shaw without seeming like she's manipulating the conversation.
"There's been someone," she says quietly, glancing at me and Nate as if seeking permission to continue. "A psychologist who was involved in the original investigation. Dr. Evelyn Shaw."
I watch Rivas's pen stop moving across his notepad. "What about Dr. Shaw?"
"She's been…around recently. Asking questions, showing up at places she shouldn't be. My aunt remembered her from my father's funeral, said she seemed wrong somehow. Not like someone who was there to grieve."
"Wrong, how?"
Lila's hands twist together in her lap, the picture of someone forcing herself to voice fears that sound paranoid even to her. "She was watching the other mourners instead of mourning herself. Taking notes, maybe. My aunt said she had this clinical detachment that felt inappropriate for a funeral."
"And she's been in contact with you recently?"
"Not directly. But she's appeared at crime scenes, at professional conferences, asking about my work with violentoffenders. Always with some professional excuse, but…." Lila lets her voice trail off, allowing Rivas to fill in the implications.
"But you feel like you're being studied," he finishes.
"Exactly." Relief floods Lila's voice, the sound of someone finally being understood. "Detective, I'm scared. What if the person who killed my father has been watching me all this time? What if these new murders are connected to me somehow?"
The question hangs in the air, loaded with possibilities that make Rivas lean forward with sharpened attention. Because this is what he's been waiting for—a connection, a thread that might finally lead to solving the case that's haunted him for nine years.
"Delilah, I want you to know that we're going to take this seriously," he says, his voice carrying the import of professional commitment. "I'm going to look into Dr. Shaw's recent activities, and I want you to call me immediately if you have any further contact with her."
"Thank you," Lila whispers, genuine gratitude mixing with performance. "I've been so afraid that no one would believe me."
"I believe you," Rivas says firmly. "And I promise you, we're going to figure out what's happening."
Nate chooses that moment to lean forward slightly, injecting himself into the conversation with the kind of smooth authority that commands attention.
"Detective, if I may," he says, "Ms. Jenkins has been through tremendous trauma, both as a child and now with these current events. What kind of protection can the department provide while you investigate these concerns?"
It's exactly the right question, framed in exactly the right way. Not demanding special treatment, but highlightingthe vulnerability of someone who deserves protection while acknowledging the department's responsibility to provide it.
"We can increase patrols in your neighborhood," Rivas tells Lila. "I want you to have my direct number, and I'll make sure the responding officers know to prioritize any calls from you. In the meantime, is there somewhere safe you can stay? Family, friends?"
"She's welcome to stay with me," I say, the offer sounding like protective concern rather than strategic positioning. "I have secure locks, good sight lines, and I'm familiar with personal security protocols from my construction background."
Nate nods approvingly. "That's generous of you, Kent. Ms. Jenkins, that would put you close to people who care about your safety."
I catch the way Lila's eyes flick between us, processing the smooth coordination of our responses. She's recognizing that this is how Nate operates—managing situations through careful orchestration of social dynamics, making suggestions that sound like natural conclusions rather than manipulative guidance.
"That might be good," she agrees softly. "I've been nervous about staying alone."
"Excellent," Rivas says, making another note. "Mr. Shepherd, I assume you're still at the same address we have on file?"
"Same trailer, same park," I confirm. "Nothing fancy, but it's private and secure."
