“So you’re not really the defender of kids and dogs.”
“Nope.” Russo wrinkled his nose. “What’s in it for me? That’s what I always ask myself. The Canceled Killer is a little bit too much of a righteous prick, if you ask me.” Russo leaned forward across the table. “You know I’m right, kid. You know in your gut,I’m right. I’m not a saint—” I scoffed at that. “But I’m no serial killer.”
“Who is it then?”
“No idea,” he said. “The real killer is like a ghost. Some of the guys in the precinct really think he’s former CIA or KGB, someone who knows how to get in and out without leaving a trace.”
I’d heard that theory before. But how many former spies did we have running around? Not many.
“If you’re not the killer, then why drug me? Why kidnap Jude and Mateo? Why not just head to Canada and disappear?”
Russo cocked his head. “Look, I’m a romantic. Sometimes, love blinds a man to reason.” He flashed me a very creepy smile.
“So why the flight to Canada?”
“You were supposed to be with me. That bitch in Chicago was going to press charges, so we needed to get out of Dodge. Do you know what they do to cops in jail?”
“I think you’re about to find out,” I said.
Russo frowned.
“I’m not the Canceled Killer,” he reiterated. “I saw the real killer. At Gordon’s Custard, I got a fleeting glance in my rearview mirror. I think he was wearing a life vest. Probably owns a boat. Maybe even got away on one.” Russo shrugged.
“Why are you telling me all this?” I nodded to the two-way glass. “You know they’re all listening.”
“Yeah, I know.” Russo studied me with steely blue eyes. “But the real killer is still out there. I wasn’t lying when I said he sent a message to the precinct. He’ll still be coming for you.”
Was Russo telling the truth or was he just toying with me? I mulled over every word back at Koi, sitting in the big armchair by the fireplace in the sitting room near the check-in desk.
“You believe Russo?” Jude asked me, handing me a cup of hot cider he’d warmed up in the kitchen. I’d told him everything on the ride back.
“I don’t know,” I admitted, taking a sip of the sweet, cinnamon-topped goodness.
“Why kidnap me, then? Or Spider-Man?”
“To hear Russo tell it, he was just insanely jealous and wanted me all to himself.”
“I mean, I get it,” Jude said. “You are perfect, so of course he’d be in love with you.” Jude sank into the armchair opposite mine. “But… what if he’s just using you? Manipulating you?”
“He might be.” I felt a twinge of pain in my leg and tried to shift my position to ease it. “He also says the killer is still on the loose and still has beef with me,” I added as I worked to get comfortable.
“That sounds terrifying.”
“Agent Issa said he’s probably just trying to get under my skin.”
“Probably is.”
I took another sip of hot cider. “There’s something I’m missing, though. Something that’s right under my nose.” I could feel it. My stomach rumbled loud enough for us to hear.
“Hungry?” asked Jude. “I can warm up some of Tammy’s hot dish.”
“Everything is better with cheese and potatoes,” I said. I tried to get up, but Jude stood, holding up his one good hand.
“Let me get it for you,” he offered.
“Aw, isn’t that sweet?” Mom said as she slowly descended the stairs. “I told you he was a keeper.”
I watched from the sitting room as Jude disappeared into the kitchen.
