Obsession in Death (In Death 40)

Could she have been telling me to keep being careful? I hope that was it. I have to believe that was it.

If it is, it’s almost like we’ve talked, at last. One day we will, in person. Just the two of us. We’ll have some wine. We’ll open the bottle I bought especially—the same kind she was drinking in that picture I found of her, the one taken when she went to Italy.

With him.

She won’t need him once we’re finally able to be together, work together. We’ll talk and talk and talk, about everything, share everything.

She won’t need anyone but me. I hope she’s starting to understand that now. I have to show her so she understands.

I know I have to wait, I know there’s more work to be done first, but I hope it’s soon.

Maybe after tonight. Maybe after one more. I’m really looking forward to this one—doing it for her, and for myself. It’s like discovering I have an innate talent for playing the violin or painting watercolors.

I have an innate talent for execution.

There will be one fewer disrespectful asshole in the world after tonight. As Eve would say, he can bite me.

But the dead don’t bite.

• • •

She spent a long time studying both messages. Key words: JUSTICE, RESPECT, FRIENDS. Words most repeated—or emphasized in the lab rat’s analysis—in the longer, second message: RESPECT, DISRESPECT, SOCIETY, FRIEND, JUSTICE.

She’d look for repetition and emphasis on those words when she ran the correspondence. If the killer had a message, these words made up an important part of it.

He’d have used them before.

She took another look at Mason. Despite the alibi, he had a connection to the cops. But with or without the alibi, she admitted, he just didn’t

fit. Not only didn’t fit her own instincts, but didn’t fit the profile.

He was smarter than he appeared, and as she skimmed his files, admitted he was organized. But he wasn’t careful, didn’t live alone or close himself off.

She found a disc labeled “Ledo,” another labeled “The Square.”

She ran Ledo’s first, waded through Mason’s stiff and formal version of a police report, then backtracked, zeroed in.

Observed deliveryman traveling west on foot, pausing outside subject’s building before continuing on. Then observed same deliveryman cross over to south side of the street, traveling on foot, east. This individual appeared unable to find the address, took out a ’link, but—in my opinion—took a photograph with said ’link.

As I am a public servant and know this area well, I approached the deliveryman, called out to same. I said: Can I help you find an address?

The individual turned away, shaking his head, and continued east with more haste.

I went back to my surveillance of the subject’s building.

“You saw him.”

Eve turned to her ’link, pulled up the contact information.

Mason’s earnest face filled her screen. “This is Mason Tobias. I can only talk for a minute because I’m working and not allowed personal communications.”

“I’ll fix it, Mason. It’s Lieutenant Dallas.”

“Yes, sir, Lieutenant. I’m on a walking delivery, so I can talk for a minute.”

“Great. Mason, I’m reading your reports, and—”

He lit up like a candle. “You are? You’re reading them yourself?”