To Catch a Killer(88)

Victor dismisses my comment. “Give her a break; she doesn’t have the same stomach for this that we do.”

“I guess that’s true,” I say.

“Plus, she now has to live through the story of your mother’s murder all over again.”

I flop back against my pillow. I hadn’t thought about that. Finding my mother’s killer will make us all notorious again. There’s a lot I haven’t had a chance to think through yet.

“And by the way.” Victor’s look becomes stern. “Journey fessed up about the tie in the van and how it linked the bio teacher to your mother’s murder. You held back evidence from me.”

Oops. “Sorry, I just thought—”

“I don’t care what you thought, that’s not how we do things,” he says. “It doesn’t matter if we’re a family or a forensic team. We never hold back evidence. Is that clear?”

I cringe. “Yes, sir. Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Victor pats my hand. “Anything else?”

“Yes. Why did all of my evidence point to Chief Culson?”

“Trust me, I wanted to clear that up, too. Because of his…” Victor struggles for the right word. “… affection for Rachel, Chuck personally followed up on every piece of evidence. He did actually go to Journey’s house and inspect the spot where the van rammed the wall. He went to the tow yard and physically inspected the van, too. He was doing this for Rachel, and he was doing it for you, too. This is probably how his fingerprints wound up inside the van, but here’s the lesson about evidence. At any crime scene, you will find a lot of it. It’s our job to figure out…”

I finish the statement “… what’s crime and what’s scene.” Victor includes that line in every one of his books.

“Keep it up and you’ll become my star apprentice,” he says with a proud smile.

It’s tricky to pull off in a hospital bed, but I manage a little celebratory flailing-arms dance. It’s not every day I get a compliment like this.

“One last question.” I stall. “About Principal Roberts … he isn’t really…?”

“Your father?” Victor shakes his head. “No. I know it was creepy and it led him to commit very bad deeds. But I think he really wanted it to be true. He wanted to hold an important place in your life, and that says a great deal about what an amazing young woman you are.”

Victor’s right. It is confusing and creepy. Mr. Roberts had a place in my life. He was my constant. “How did he get my nail file?”

“We think he must’ve grabbed it out of your locker.”

“Oh right. The infamous locker checks,” I say.

“We have him on security video going into Journey’s locker and stealing his phone.”

“What a creep. Why would he do all of that to me?” I sit up.

Victor gives my wrist a squeeze and buries my hand between both of his. “Your mother was special, Erin. A lot of men were in love with her. But obsession is a strange beast. I honestly believe Carl became obsessed with the notion that you and your mother were his family. Sarah didn’t share that notion and her rejection pushed him over the edge.”

I have to look away or I’m going to completely fall apart.

“I know these are just words, but you can’t blame yourself. None of us knew. Not even Rachel. She’s blaming herself, too.”

I pull my hands from the sheet and force them to rest quietly on top. “What about Spam and Journey?”

“They were both released a couple of hours ago.”

I flop back against the pillow and snuggle into the warmth of the bed. “Does this mean you’re leaving soon?”

“That depends.” Victor scoots his chair a little closer to the bed. “I’ve done a little thinking about that, and I have an offer for you to consider.” A grin spreads across his face. He looks a little shy, almost embarrassed. “First of all, I quit my job. I’m leaving the bureau and moving back to Iron Rain.”

“What about…?”

“Getting axed?”

I nod.

“This could be viewed as sort of a preemptive move against that action, but that’s not why I’m doing it. I owe it all to you, Erin. You changed me.”

“Me?”

“You’re an amazing survivor. Even more than that, you thrive. But I think the clincher, for me, is how you clung to your mother’s evidence in that box, up in that attic, with the conviction that someday you would solve her murder.”

I look up at him through damp eyelashes and a tangled veil of copper hair. “And we did. We solved it.”

“Yes, we did.” He smiles. “Which is why I think maybe we should tackle the other mystery in your life.”

Excitement thrums through me. “What other mystery?”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s possible, but if it is, I thought we should try to identify your father.”

I can’t take all this good news at once. The stress of the last twenty-four hours finally dissolves my defensive crust and a few fat tears slide down my cheeks.

Victor takes my hand. “Hey, this is what you want, isn’t it?”

“Are you kidding? It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”