Chapter 8: The Last Mistake
We went back up.
Carver was on his phone when we walked in.
Reyes was standing at the window with her arms crossed, looking at something on a tablet.
She turned when she heard us.
"Sit down," she said.
Not unkindly.
We sat.
"The vehicle matches the description your sister gave us of the car she saw outside her home last week," Reyes said.
"Dark blue, older model.
We ran the plates — registered to a shell company we've been tracking for months.
It's one of his."
"He followed us," Dana said.
Her voice was flat.
"We don't know that yet.
It's possible he identified your sister's address through other means — property records, social media, any number of things." Reyes set the tablet down.
"What matters right now is that we have the vehicle.
And we have eyes on it."
"Is he in it?" I asked.
"No.
The car is empty.
But it hasn't moved in several hours, which suggests he left it there intentionally." She paused.
"We believe he may be trying to send a message."
"The message being that he knows where I live," I said.
"Yes."
Dana reached over and put her hand over mine on the table.
I turned my hand over and held it.
Carver finished his call and came back to the table.
He sat down and looked at both of us with the direct, unhurried manner I was beginning to recognize as his default.
"Here's where we are," he said.
"We have the vehicle.
We have the text.
We have cell tower data placing him in a specific area of the city.
We have testimony from three separate victims, including your sister, and corroborating financial records that have been building for eight months." He folded his hands.
"What we need is the man."
"So find him," I said.
"We're working on it.
But I want to be honest with you — this kind of person is practiced at staying out of reach.
He's done it before." He looked at Dana.
"However.
He's also making mistakes he didn't make before.
The text.
The car.
These are the actions of someone who is not thinking clearly."
"Because he's scared," I said.
"Because he's desperate," Carver said.
"There's a difference.
Scared people hide.
Desperate people sometimes do something reckless." He paused.
"We're watching for that."
We stayed another hour.
Reyes walked us through a short list of precautions — nothing dramatic, mostly common sense.
Vary your route.
Don't post your location.
Keep your phone charged.
Call us if anything feels wrong.
When we finally left, the afternoon had gone gray, clouds pulling in from the west.
Dana was quiet in the passenger seat again.
We were almost home when she said, "I keep thinking about the other people he did this to.
The ones who lost more than I did."
"I know."
"Some of them probably didn't have a Fitch.
Or a Liam.
Or a—" She stopped.
"Or a sister who showed up and wouldn't leave," I said.
She made a sound that was almost a laugh.
"Yeah."
Liam was home when we got there.
He'd made soup — the kind Dana liked, the one with white beans and rosemary that our mother used to make on cold days.
He didn't say anything about it.
He just set three bowls on the table.
We ate.
We talked about small things.
Outside, the clouds finished moving in and it began to rain.
After dinner, while Dana was in the shower, Liam and I stood in the kitchen and I told him everything Carver and Reyes had said.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he said, "What do you need?"
"I don't know yet." I looked at the rain on the window.
"I think I need this to be over."
"It will be."
"You don't know that."
"No," he said.
"But I know you.
And I know Dana.
And I know that man made a serious miscalculation when he decided to frighten two women who have each other." He picked up the dish towel.
"He should have just run."
I almost smiled.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
I looked at it.
A text from Reyes: *We have him.
Taken into custody twenty minutes ago.
Call me when you can.*
I read it twice.
Then I held the phone out so Liam could see it.
He read it.
Set the dish towel down.
Looked at me.
May you like
From down the hall, I heard the shower turn off.
"I'll tell her," I said.
