“Well,” Rodney spoke, and then he fell silent for a second or three, before continuing on. “You’re the one who was thinking the kid was clear, weren’t you?”
“I’m trying not to think any limiting things and to just give my mind free rein to ideas that would help this make sense, when nothing makes sense, and all else is canceled out.”
“Yeah, but we haven’t rejected anything yet,” Rodney noted. “Think about it. We have so many people who this could still be, maybe a tag team of killers.”
“And yet we did confirm,” Lilliana added, turning to look at Owen, “that the Alberta and Saskatchewan murders happened while the kid was in prison in those provinces at those times.”
Owen nodded. “And what’s your take on that?” he asked, turning to look at Kate.
“Remember how he had day passes too while in Alberta? Don’t know if something like that also occurred in Saskatchewan. Yet I’m not sure it allows for the torture this killer enjoys, then the disposal of the body, or even the acquisition of the victim to begin with. Hence the multiple killers’ angle. Then alternatively the vicarious killings’ theory. So honestly I don’t really have one take. I mean, it’s too much of a stretch to be a coincidence that the kid was in the vicinity of all these murders, so I’m thinking, either it has to be somebody who knows him or somebody who is wanting to”—she winced—“gain his admiration somehow.”
Lilliana sucked in her breath at that.
“That’s one idea,” Kate noted. “Another option would be that he’s potentially directing somebody in that location to do the murders for him. The vicarious element.” They just stared at her. “And I know that that would be a whole lot harder to prove,” Kate admitted. “I really do know that.” She sat down at her desk and added, “I’m also the first one to say my brain isn’t functioning this morning, so give it a minute.”
“I think it’s functioning just fine,” the sergeant said from behind her. “Interesting theories. Do you have anything to back it up?”
“Not yet,” she admitted. “I’m not even sure I’m on the right pathway. I’m just thinking of ways to explain this,” she noted, with her hand out. “Please, somebody come up with some other idea that will make sense.”
“Well, that vicarious one does make a sick kind of sense,” Lilliana noted, “but I sure hope you’re wrong.”
“I do too,” Kate agreed. “I mean, we put them in prison to stop the killings, not to promote them.”
At that, Rodney turned toward her and asked, “Why?” When she frowned at him, he clarified his question. “So, to be clear, you think the kid did this, killing his sister, then went on to recreate her murder through vicarious agents?” She winced. “But why?” Rodney asked her.
She shrugged. “Because…” But then she stopped. “No,” she began again. “I don’t even want to toss the rest of this out because I don’t have any reason for it. So let’s just get to the bottom of what we’re working on right now and let me run this around in my brain a little bit longer.”
“You could share,” Rodney stated. “We won’t judge you for it.”
She smiled, then nodded and said, “I get that, but I can’t even present a logical argument for it yet.”
“Has that ever stopped you before?” he asked in a teasing tone.
She laughed. “I get that, and hopefully, when I can wrap my head around it, maybe later today, we can go over it.”
Rodney nodded. “Don’t wait too long, just in case.”
“Got it.” She nodded and turned toward her computer and opened up her emails, but her mind was consumed with what had now crossed it. If she was wrong, it would set a dangerous precedent and would send them down a pathway that would take a ton of time that they couldn’t afford to waste. And, if she was right, it would be a really bad deal for everybody involved, and she didn’t want to go there if she didn’t have to.
*
Simon woke thatSunday morning and lay in bed for a long moment. His body was covered in sweat, still trembling from the nightmare. He wasn’t just awaking from it, as in jumping out of it, but more of a slow groggy awareness that he was still stuck in the same time frame that this poor woman was. As he opened his eyes, he saw a little bit on the right side—fromhervision. But everything hurt too much to turn and look. In his head, he whispered, “Turn a bit and let me see. Let me help you. I need some way to find you.”
No answer came, as she was heading off into that space in her head where nobody could hurt her. He’d heard of animals and victims in pain finding that space, where they turned and basically gave up, going into a place where they couldn’t feel anything anymore.
“You’re not done,” he told her, willing her to live. “We can find you. We just need time, and we need to know a little bit more about where you are.”
Her voice, ever-so-faint, whispered, “It’s over.”
“No,” Simon snapped, sitting up in the bed. “It’s not over. Let me see something, anything at all, so we can find you. Is this how you want your family to know that you’re gone?”
He felt her weeping, but no tears were on her cheeks, as she had nothing left to cry with. He knew she still had eyes because he could see some shadows, but it was just so hard to sort out what else he was seeing. “Please,” he whispered, “please, I know that there’s a church window. We saw that through the door, but there has to be something else.”
“Are you God?” she whispered.
“No,” he replied, realizing that she was starting to lose her grip on reality. “I’m not God, and God is not waiting for you to get there and to join Him,” he explained, trying to darken his tone. “What we want is for you to live.”
“I don’t want to,” she whispered. “There’s too much pain. I just want to go home now.”