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Patricia’s jaw fell further. “I heard about them today, but… me?”
“Possibly,” Ella said. “Do you know anyone who’s recently been enquiring about your medical condition? Could be someone new, could be someone you’ve known for a long time. He would have asked you questions obsessively. His interest would have peaked in recent weeks.”
Ella realized she was overloading the woman with information but time was of the essence.
The woman stuttered a little. “No one. Nobody talks about my condition. Everybody is nice about it. Why?”
“It’s possibly he’s targeting you because of that. I’m sorry to be so blunt.”
Patricia pushed her short hair off her face and said, “Well, I don’t know what to say. I’m going to be safe, right? Someone is going to stay with me.”
Ripley said, “Yes, absolutely. And if you don’t mind we’ll conduct a more formal interview with you at a more appropriate time. We just had to get in here quickly to confirm your safety.”
Ella began to pace around the room, unsure where to go next. There was no killer here, but if Patricia was the target, she certainly knew the man that was potentially targeting her. But before that, she had to unearth some details about the woman’s life. If shewasn’tthe target, this was all a futile effort.
“Patricia, would we be okay asking some personal questions?”
The woman shuffled around the sofa, each twitch apparently stinging her. “How personal?”
Ella wondered best how to phrase it without going too far. “Our perpetrator is targeting people going through hardships. Aside from your skin condition, how is everything else?”
“Tough,” Patricia said. “Lots of pills and creams needed, but I’m surviving. Still got plenty of life left in me.”
Ella and Ripley exchanged an identical look. A bittersweet revelation. If Patricia Edwards wasn’t going through immense suffering, she wouldn’t be the target.
“Good to hear it,” Ella said. She clocked a gold cross above Patricia’s fireplace. “You’re religious?”
“Until the day he comes for me,” Patricia said.
“Any connection to Saint Paul’s Church?”
“Yes, actually. I go to mass there once a week, and I used to visit the Sanctuary Class.”
Ella hadn’t heard of that one yet. “Sanctuary Class?”
“Uh huh. Just a place to discuss mental health, really. Depressed, anxious people. Some had physical problems.”
Ella felt an avenue opening up. “Did anyone there take an obsessive interest in your condition? Who lead the class?”
“No one in particular. The priest who led it was Father Alden. Strange fellow, but nice enough.”
Dammit,Ella thought to herself, concealing a quick pang of frustration. A pile of bricks in the shape of Alden’s one-eyed face blocked off this new avenue, forcing a sudden reroute.
Ella took herself to the other side of the living room, shrouded in darkness, looked out the patio window at a lengthy garden illuminated by solar lights. She breathed deeply, composing herself, telling her this wasn’t a dead end like the others. She had faith that the psychological profile was accurate because nothing was out of place, nothing contrasted against the evidence. And just because the killer hadn’t arrived tonight, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t arrive another night, or even in a few hours. Twice he’d struck in the dead of night, once in the afternoon. He had no discernible pattern. He struck whenever was most opportune. For a woman who lived alone, that was a huge window.
She gazed at the impeccable lawn and the soft silvery glow that mimicked the night sky. Her thoughts turned to the other potential targets, hopefully safe by now under the watchful eye of police officers, then back to the woman sitting behind her. Ella heard Ripley talking in the background about something.
“Dark,” Ripley said. “The others are safe. No signs of anything suspicious.”
Ella nodded, not wanting to go too deeply into things for fear of unsettling their new friend any further. These people were alive and that was good enough for her, at least for the time being.
She went back to star gazing, lawn gazing. She clenched her eyelids tightly, straining for ideas on how to proceed. Should she check on the other victims herself? Maybe quiz Patricia in an attempt to find this culprit? Or wait out the night here in case of any invading murderers? What if there were other people with similar conditions that hadn’t showed up in their search? After all, they’d only spoken to the admin workers at the local centers and they could easily have missed something.
When Ella opened her eyes, she had to blink a few times to clear the mental fog. She viewed the magnificent garden again, but her eye was drawn to something that hadn’t been there before. Something swayed in the silver light. A bush? An animal?
“Patricia, you live alone?” Ella asked, eyes locked on the garden.
“Yes I do.”
