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A thought came to me, and I tore out of Brett’s arm. “Wait. Can I see the picture?”
Travis nodded, his gaze locking on mine. “I can bring it out later, but I’m sure it’ll be released at the press announcement. Feds like their presentations. They’ll do a whole show to assure the public that we caught the guy and they’re safe. The families of the victims are all being notified right now as well.”
“But you’ll bring it?” I pressed.
“I’ll bring a copy.”
“Thank you, Travis.” Vicky reached out, touching his arm. “We’ll let Lo and Roger know. The girls have been worried.”
“Maybe we’ll do a Sunday dinner again, after Brett’s game so he can join?” Howard nodded in our direction. “You’re invited, Travis. And Agent Cardiman. She told me at great length how much she liked Vicky’s pecan pie.”
“I’ll let her know.”
He didn’t linger after that, but there was a moment of silence once he was gone.
I didn’t know what to say.
I almost felt bereft. Like I’d been shorted from something.
Brett reached for me, pulling me back into his arms, and at the touch, at his smell and his heat, some of that empty feeling soothed away.
Howard spoke first, a slight laugh hitching out. “Well, damn.” He scratched the back of his head as his robe started to loosen. “That’s—that’s—something, ain’t it? It sure is something, alrighty.”
Vicky snorted, tying it back up and patting his tummy. “I think you could’ve said that better, but I know there’s no going back to sleep after that announcement. Coffee? Brett? An early breakfast before you need to leave for the stadium?”
47
BILLIE
They announced the arrest. Billy Haskell.
That was the name of the Copier Killer, and I noted the irony. His life was quickly uprooted. They found his social media, and suddenly people from his real life were doing interviews left and right. He fit Agent Cardiman’s profile almost perfectly. A computer coder. Time spent in the military. Good looking, but also odd, according to what people were posting on his social media accounts. Caucasian. His father had killed his mother in front of him, and the timing happened when the Midwest Butcher was caught. Three towns away. It’d been a domestic abuse situation, but it didn’t matter. A tragedy occurred in his real life at the same time.
There were too many similarities.
It was him, and I was still in disbelief.
More accounts were found from him that were dedicated to me. I’d only been able to stomach a momentary glimpse of them. There were pictures of me plastered all over those other accounts.
Things didn’t happen like this, where it was wrapped up with a neat little bow. Then again, because they knew me, I’d sentenced two people to death so maybe this one wasn’t actually wrapped up with a pretty bow.
More would come out. It always did.
There was a brief knock on my door at the farm, and I called, “Come in!”
Vicky appeared, carrying a mug in her hand. “Hey-o. How’s it going?”
She was being chipper, had been chipper all week, but she was also cautious. They all had been watching me, waiting for my freakout, but it wasn’t coming. Or it was and I was in denial. I wasn’t sure anymore myself.
I was desensitized to all of it by now.
I’d gotten a new computer with new accounts. My clients transitioned smoothly to the new ways to contact me, easily accepting when I relayed that there’d been a problem with my previous email.
Vicky took in my laptop, sliding into a chair across from me. “Did Travis get back to you about how he found you as Melanie Morning?”
I growled shortly. “No. He never brought over the picture I asked to see either.”
“Oh.” She sat down across from me, sliding my mug over. “I made you a cappuccino. Got that new machine yesterday, and it’s a delight to make these.”
