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With every step, Cassie felt as though iron boots were wrapping around her feet and legs. She tried to pay attention to what David was telling her, but she couldn’t focus on the words. Her thoughts raced, jumping from one half-formed revelation to the next. One minute, she was sure her sister would never speak to her again, and the next, Cassie was wishing Novak had finished the job, so she didn’t have to worry about fixing their relationship.
That last thought made Cassie groan and grab her head. She pulled at her hair and rocked back and forth. She didn’t want that. But Shapiro’s influence was getting stronger and stronger, and the more time she spent in the house, the worse it would get.
David wrapped his arms around her. “Come on, we’re almost there. I need you to tell me what’s in this room.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Cassie could do nothing but repeat those words over and over.
But David wouldn’t let her give up. He grabbed her arm and put it over his shoulder so he could hoist her up and half carry, half drag her down the hallway. When they reached the room, Cassie could barely stand on her own. Sweat matted her hair, and her breathing was shallow and rough.
“Master bedroom,” David said. His voice sounded so far away. “What are we looking for?”
Cassie forced her eyes to scan the room, and even though they were heavy with exhaustion, she could make out a blurry red figure in the corner. He was radiating anger and hatred like flames from a dragon destroying a hamlet.
She managed to lift her arm and point at him before she passed out.
15
Cassie could tell the second David had crossed the threshold and carried her outside. The cool breeze dried the sweat on her brow, and her limbs felt a hundred pounds lighter. She opened her eyes, and the brightness of the sun greeted her kindly. Its heat felt gentle and regenerative, rather than oppressive and lethal.
David set her down on the front stoop and leaned her against the wall. “Do we need to get farther away?”
“No, this is fine.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Cassie watched as David darted inside, presumably to return to the room and see if he could find anything new. The ghost of Robert Shapiro hadn’t affected him, but Cassie still didn’t like the idea of him going in alone. Then again, she wouldn’t be of much help.
She closed her eyes and soaked in the sun until David returned fifteen minutes later.
“I half tore the room apart, but I found something.”
Cassie’s eyes snapped open. “Found what?”
“Letters.” David sat down next to her and held up a thick stack of folded pieces of white semi-translucent paper. “Well, carbon copies of letters. They’re all addressed to Coastal State Prison, and a few of the names match up with some of our victims. Looks like he was writing to them while they were still in prison. This is the evidence we were looking for.”
“Would’ve been useful twenty years ago.”
“Now you sound like me.” David rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I don’t think anyone knew Shapiro existed back then. I think Stockton was telling the truth—he wasn’t on our radar. Were we even looking at the radar? Maybe not. But the past is in the past, right? We have the letters now. Presumably, we can put those souls to rest.”
“Where were the letters?”
“The corner of the room you pointed at before you passed out. I’d searched the room last time we were here and didn’t come up with anything. I thought this was a longshot, but you pulled through once again. I gotta stop doubting you.” He patted her on the shoulder. “He’d slipped them behind a baseboard. I wouldn’t have bothered to pry it off if I wasn’t so sure you were onto something in there.”
“You think the letters will be helpful?”
“Don’t know. I’ll have the team look through them first. Could be all sorts of information in here. If nothing else, it might paint a better picture of what he was thinking. What his motive was.” David looked down at her with an arched eyebrow. “What happened back there?”
Cassie kept her eyes closed. The faintest hint of a headache came on. “He was strong. Angry. Didn’t want us finding those letters. He was a bad man. Maybe not from the beginning, but by the time he died all that was left was pure evil. His aura was a dark, angry red. I could barely even look at him without being overwhelmed. I’ve never felt anything like that before.”
“Well, I don’t suppose you get many ghosts of serial killers knocking at your door.”
“No, I guess not.”
“What about the rest of it?”
“Rest of what?”
“The stuff about your sister.”
