The Night Bird (Frost Easton #1)(96)

But anger about what?

“What else did he tell you about himself?” Frost asked.

Frankie shook her head. “Does it matter? I don’t know what to believe anymore. It sounds like everything he told me was a lie.”

“People who lie often tuck in kernels of truth,” Frost said. “Sometimes they do it unconsciously, because the truth is so familiar to them. Other times it’s a taunt. Or they may find it’s easier to build a fake story on top of something that’s real.”

She tried to remember what Todd had told her. Then and now. “He said he did freelance tech work. He mentioned some kind of tech start-up near SF State that was like an Uber for computer support. He worked for them.”

“We’ll check it out,” Frost said. “He was a tech wizard, no doubt about that. He built an elaborate setup inside that room, and he had to have a lot of experience to pull off something like that. It must have taken him weeks of planning.”

“What else?” Jess asked her. “The Night Bird is still out there, Dr. Stein, and you’re our only link to him.”

Frankie shook her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember much. It was months ago.”

“Why did he come to you in the first place?” she asked.

“He said he’d been bullied as a child by one of his cousins. He had a boss whose treatment at work was bringing the memories back.”

“Do you think any of that was true?” Frost asked.

“Knowing what I know about him now? No. If I had to guess, he used someone else’s story and pretended that it was his own. He wanted to get into my treatment room. He wanted to see exactly how I worked with people’s memories. The whole thing was a way to spy on me.”

“He learned his lessons,” Frost said.

Yes, that was true. Todd was smart. He’d figured out exactly how to lead her down the path he wanted her to follow. How to make her play his game move by move. The unexpected meetings outside the office, designed to startle her and keep her off balance. The fake horror of his memories of torture, perfectly timed with the deaths of Brynn Lansing and Christie Parke. He fed her the clues, and she put them together.

“Todd was the one who led me to Darren Newman in the first place,” Frankie recalled. “He knew I’d recognize Darren in the videos he gave me. I saw him in that men’s room in the bar, and I leaped to the conclusion that Darren was stalking Todd. Which was exactly what he wanted me to believe. I never dreamed that it was the other way around. Todd was stalking Darren. He probably bumped into Darren and stole the button off his sport coat, too. So you could find it, and I could see Darren wearing the coat with the missing button. He covered all the bases.”

Jess said, “Videos?”

Frost jumped in at the same time. “Todd gave you videos of places he’s been over the past few weeks. This guy likes to play games. I doubt that anything you saw was in there by accident.”

“Did you recognize specific places in these videos?” Jess asked. “Did he film anything in or near his apartment? Or places he’d worked?”

Frankie was tired, and her mind was slow. She’d watched the videos from Todd Ferris in a marathon fueled by wine, in the midst of an argument with Jason and her usual sparring matches with Pam. Most of what she’d seen was a blur. Restaurants. Bars. Parks. Street scenes.

“There was a choir,” she said.

Jess cocked her head. “What?”

“He took video at some kind of student choral competition. It was in a performing space. I thought it was a little strange. It didn’t fit with the other places he’d visited.”

“Did you recognize the space?” Frost asked.

She shook her head. “No, I’d never been there.”

“What else?” Jess asked.

Frankie tried to think. “A diner. He went there several times. I saw it at least three or four times in the videos on different nights.”

“Nights?”

“Yes, he always went there at night. Late. One of the videos showed a clock, and the time was like two in the morning. I figured he was going there after his tech jobs.”

“So it’s a twenty-four-hour diner,” Frost said. “Any idea where it was located?”

Frankie thought back. She’d seen the greasy spoon in the videos. He’d wanted her to see it. He’d wanted her to remember it. “Red upholstery,” she said, with her eyes closed. “The guy behind the counter had a big, full beard and a lot of piercings. It was near Market, and there was a gas station and a bus stop across the street.”

“I know where it is,” Frost said.

“Is that a taxi driver flashback?” Jess asked him.

“Exactly right. I had a lot of four-in-the-morning meals there when I was driving. It’s Orphan Andy’s in the Castro.” He held out a hand to Frankie. “I could go for some hotcakes. How about you?”



The diner was located on Seventeenth between a funky card shop and a tattoo parlor. The time of the night didn’t matter. It was crowded. They found two seats together at the counter, under a Tiffany-style overhead lamp. Frost ordered banana hotcakes, and Frankie, who realized she was starving, ordered stuffed French toast. She watched Frost study the diner with a mixture of nostalgia and curiosity.