I turned to the board and wrote:
CAUSE OF DEATH
TIME OF DEATH
DISCOVERY
AUTOPSY
TOXICOLOGY
IDENTIFICATION
CHAIN OF CUSTODY
“What do we have?” I asked.
“Press releases. Statements from local law enforcement. Brewster’s briefings.”
“Which means we have their conclusions.” Something I’d recognized in all that verbal sparring with Brewster. He knew a lot more than he was willing to share.
“Not the work behind them.” Flint blew out a long breath. “We verified what we could, but we had to go through channels.”
No investigator ever revealed everything they knew. Because what we knew, we reported on.
I drew a line beneath the list. “We’ve been investigating the serial killer and the pattern of deaths.”
With care, I wrote down the last names of all the victims. At this point, I had them memorized. “We reported on the vitals, the key data, and some of who they were survived by, but we didn’t dig much deeper than that.”
I hadn’t dug much deeper. Not once I had the scent. I’d been right—but I’d also let it distract me.
“I think it's time we investigate the victims.”
Flint crossed the room without answering. He took the marker from my hand and, beneath the list of names, wrote two words in block capitals.
WHY THEM?
I frowned. “That's what we've been asking.”
“No.” He capped the marker. “We've been asking what they did wrong.”
Chapter
Nine
FLINT
“Guilt explains why the Auditor might punish them,” I said. “It doesn’t explain why these specific people were available to be punished.”
Mallory looked at me.
She was standing barefoot in the middle of my living room, wearing my old Carter News T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants cinched so tightly at the waist it showed off her figure despite the t-shirt that hung nearly to her knees. One sleeve kept sliding toward her elbow every time she lifted the marker.
The effect should have been ridiculous.
It wasn’t.
No, it was far too enchanting. And that was inconvenient. I pointed at the board before my attention could become any less professional.