A Flicker in the Dark(60)

“I’m sorry,” I say, exhaling. Forcing myself to calm down. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I feel like you’re not really listening to me. You asked me to look at Lacey’s body today and tell you if I remembered anything that could be important. This is me telling you what I believe may be important.”

“Okay,” he says, holding his hands in the air. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. Please continue.”

“Thank you,” I say, feeling my shoulders relax a little. “Anyway. Bert Rhodes is one of the few people, possibly the only person, who would know that detail, lives in the area where these current murders are taking place, and has a motive for murdering these girls in the same way my father murdered his daughter twenty years ago. It’s a coincidence that can’t be ignored.”

“And what do you believe his motive is, exactly? Does he know these girls?”

“No—I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think so. But isn’t that your job to figure out?”

Detective Thomas raises his eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” I say again. “Just … look. It could be a lot of things, okay? Maybe it’s revenge, targeting girls I know to harass me or make me feel the same pain he felt when his daughter was taken. An eye for an eye. Or maybe it’s grief, a need for control, the same fucked-up reason victims of abuse will go on to become abusers themselves. Maybe he’s trying to make a point. Or maybe he’s just sick, Detective. Twenty years ago, he wasn’t exactly the best father either, okay? Even as a girl, I just had a feeling about him. That something wasn’t right.”

“Okay, but a feeling isn’t a motive.”

“All right, well how’s this for motive?” I spit. “Today, he told me that after Lena’s death, he found himself obsessing over what it would feel like to take somebody’s life. Who says that? Who imagines what it’s like to take a life after your own daughter has just been murdered? Shouldn’t it be the other way around? He’s empathizing with the wrong person here.”

Detective Thomas is silent for a minute before sighing again, this time in what sounds like resignation.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, we’ll look into him. I agree—it’s a coincidence that deserves to be checked out.”

“Thank you.”

I get ready to stand from the chair before the detective looks at me again, a question forming on his lips.

“Real quick, Doctor Davis. You said that maybe this man, this—”

He looks down at the paper below him, devoid of any notes. I feel irritation gurgling up my throat like bile.

“Bert Rhodes. You should write it down.”

“Right, Bert Rhodes,” he says, scribbling the name in the corner, circling it twice. “You said he might be targeting girls you know specifically.”

“Yeah, maybe. He admitted to knowing where my office was, so maybe that’s why he took Lacey. Maybe he was watching me and he saw her walking out. Maybe he dumped her in the alley behind my office because he knew I might find her there, notice the missing jewelry, make the connection. That I’d be forced to acknowledge the fact that all these girls are still dying because of…”

I stop, swallow. Force myself to say the words.

“Because of my dad.”

“Okay,” he says, tracing his pen along the edge of his paper. “Okay, that’s a possibility. But then what exactly is your connection to Aubrey Gravino? How do you know her?”

I stare at him, my cheeks growing hot. It’s a valid question—one I somehow hadn’t thought to ask myself before. I was there just before Aubrey’s body had been found, which seemed coincidental, then Lacey going missing the day she left my office took it to a whole new level. But in terms of an actual shared connection between Aubrey and me … I can’t think of one. I remember seeing her image on the news for that first time, the vague familiarity of her features, like I had seen her somewhere before, maybe in a dream. I had just chalked it up to all the adolescent girls who streamed through my office on a weekly basis, the way they all seem to look somewhat the same.

But now I start to wonder if maybe it was something more.

“I don’t know Aubrey,” I admit. “I can’t think of any connection right now. I’ll keep thinking on it.”

“Okay.” He nods, still eying me carefully. “Okay, Doctor Davis, I appreciate you coming in. I’ll be sure to follow up on this lead and let you know as soon as I learn more.”

I push myself up from the chair and turn to leave; his office feels claustrophobic now, the closed door and the closed windows and the clutter piling high on every surface making my palms sweat and my heartbeat pound loudly in my chest. I walk quickly to the door and grasp the knob, feeling his eyes still drilling into my back, watching. It’s clear that Detective Thomas is wary of my story; with something this shocking, I had suspected that might be the case. But in coming here and revealing my theory, I had hoped to at least point the spotlight on Bert Rhodes, to get the police to start watching him closely, making it harder for him to lurk in the dark.

But instead, I feel like it’s pointed directly at me.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX




It’s late afternoon by the time I make it back home. When I enter the hallway, our new alarm system beeps twice, sending a jolt of panic through my chest at the sound. I immediately reengage it once I close the door behind me, increasing the sound to the highest setting. Then I look around my house, quiet and still. Despite my best efforts, Bert Rhodes’s presence is everywhere I look. The sound of his voice seems to echo across the empty halls, his dark eyes peering at me from behind every unturned corner. I can even smell him, that musky scent of sweat mixed with a hint of alcohol that trailed him around as he wandered through my home, touching my walls, inspecting my windows, injecting himself into my life once again.