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“What the hell?”
“There’s something else.” Edwards produced a photograph, which he laid on Decker’s desk. “This was written on the wall of one of the classrooms—”
Decker stared down at it. “Jesus Christ!”
“I mean, it might not mean anything. It’s not an uncommon—”
“Call Atkins,” he said.
“She’s on leave.”
“Not any more she fucking isn’t.”
Edwards nodded and exited. Decker picked the photograph up and studied it again.
Four words, scrawled in blood:
BARBARA—PRAY FOR MERCY
For Mum. Love you.
