“And you honestly want me to believe that was enough for you to figure out he was at the train station?” Legends growls.
“Detective, you’re getting dangerously close to accusing me of murder again,” I say, forcing my voice to remain as calm as possible.
“If the scalpel fits,” he says sarcastically.
“I really don’t want to have to remind you that a man is dead, not three feet away from you,” I say. “Try to show a little bit of professionalism and respect.”
“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” Legends growls. “If you would stop getting in the way of everything, it would be better for everybody.”
“I’m several hundred miles away from you,” I point out. “If that makes me in your way, you seriously need to reevaluate your sense of personal space.”
The phone goes back into Detective Mayfield’s hand.
“How did you figure out it was the train station?” he asks. “Those details are suggestive, but not enough to narrow in on a place like this.”
“I didn’t need to have it narrowed. This killer is tracking me. Everything he does is about me and what I’m doing. He already chose that place. When the train stopped there, the spot was chosen. It’s possible he didn’t have a plan at the time, but when he chose Martin as the next set of clues, that place came to mind because he’s familiar with it, and he knew I would be, too.”
“And you’re confident he was murdered?” Mayfield asks.
“People don’t slit their own throats and then hang themselves, Detective.”
“That isn’t the only injury, Detective,” another voice says.
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Andy Gallmeyer, ma’am,” a very young-looking man says as Mayfield turns the phone toward him. “I’m on the team evaluating the scene.”
“You said there are other injuries? I only got a very brief glimpse of Martin’s hanging corpse, not enough to give me any real insight into anything other than the gash on his throat.”
“His back is a bloody mess,” Andy says. “It looks like it’s been flayed. An entire section of the skin is missing.”
“Can you explain that, Griffin?” Legends asks.
“Are you asking for my help, Legends?” I ask. “A feeble attempt at humility isn’t a good look on you.”
“I’m far from asking for your help,” the detective grumbles. “At this point, I just want to know why you keep showing up around dead bodies.”
“I’m nowhere near that one,” I tell him. “And since it will show up in the reports anyway, I’ll let you know that when it was living, that particular body tried to kill me.”
“This is the same killer from the train?” Mayfield asks.
“Yes. I’m pretty sure it is,” I confirm. “At the very least, he’s affiliated with the killer from the train. This man tried to kill me in a hospital in Quantico, as well.”
“Then where’s the note?” Legends demands, almost like he’s daring me to answer him. “You had your little escape room going on the train with all the riddles and clues. How about this one?”
“I don’t know. It might not be a note this time. The clue could be something else. I need more information about the location. I know you’re near the train station, but what else?” I ask.
“That’s classified information we are choosing to withhold from the public at this time as it is part of an ongoing investigation,” Legends spews out, giving a canned spiel just like he would at a press conference.
“I am part of your ongoing investigation,” I say through gritted teeth. “The only solid information you have on a serial killer who has so far wiped out nearly twenty people when you include the bombing is thanks to me.”
“The way I see it, those twenty people are dead because of you.”
My hand tightens around the phone until I’m afraid it will snap. Sam glances over at me from the driver’s seat.
“Emma….” he says, both a warning and an effort to calm me down.
“Screw you, Legends. When you have an arrest warrant for me, let me know. Until then, happy hunting.”
I end the call with the sound of Mayfield calling my name in the background. Any twinge of guilt I might feel about abandoning him with his distasteful partner is outweighed by the surge of disgust, sadness, and anger flooding me.
“Emma, you can’t stop helping them,” Sam says. “We’ve already cooperated with the investigation.”
“I’m under no obligation to help him. It was a professional courtesy. But I’m done with that now. He can try to figure it out on his own. And while he’s walking around in circles, I’ll actually get it done,” I tell him.
We get back to the station, and Sam unloads the box of my father’s files into the backseat of my car. He gathers me into his arms, and I rest my head on his chest, closing my eyes and breathing in the scent of him as he presses a kiss to my hair.
“I’d feel better if you stayed here in town so I can be close to you,” he says.
“I know. But I can’t. Another person is dead, Sam. And this one isn’t random. He had a direct connection to both Jonah and Catch Me, which means they are converging. We know what they’re capable of separately. I don’t want to find out what will happen if they crash into each other.”
Chapter Thirty
I’m ready to crash by the time I get back to Quantico, but I can’t just go to my house and sleep. Almost on its own volition, my car goes straight to the hospital, and I make the all-too-familiar trek up to Greg’s room. I called Dean on the way to fill him in on what was going on. He’s already waiting for me when I get out of the elevator. A cup of coffee in one hand and food in the other is a welcome sight.
“Did you get much out of him?” I ask.
“Some,” he shrugs. “But it’s mostly just scattered bits of information that don’t make much sense to me yet. Greg
