Chapter Twenty
“Did you ever think of teaching?” Jason asked.
It was later, technically Saturday. They had moved to the bedroom, to the comforts of mellow lamplight and a welcoming mattress, and were drinking Anijsmelk, hot milk flavored with aniseed and sweetened with honey. Anna, de Haan’s girlfriend, had sent Jason a couple of packets of anijsblokjes as a thank-you gift, and it seemed like the perfect nightcap since both he and Sam were working the following day.
Sam said, “Teaching? No. I don’t have the patience to teach.”
“I don’t think I do either. I thought I did. I always thought teaching would be something I could fall back on, if I had to.” Jason smiled. “Like Indiana Jones. His day job was professor of archaeology.”
“His day job was being Indiana Jones. Teaching archaeology was his cover. Anyway, you’re substitute teaching. It’s not the same as it would be teaching subjects you know and love.”
Jason acknowledged that with a little grimace. He set his empty mug on the nightstand, folded his arms comfortably behind his head. “What do you think you’d be doing if you hadn’t gone into the FBI?”
This was potentially sensitive territory. Sam had gone into the FBI after Ethan had been murdered. He had been a man on a mission.
Sam sipped his drink, seeming to think it over.
“Rich rancher?” Jason suggested.
“Rancher?” Sam looked taken aback. “Me?”
It looked like maybe Ruby had gotten that one wrong. Or, more likely, Sam had changed a lot from that tow-headed second grader hoping to even the score.
“Fireman? Astronaut?”
“I was going to be a criminal psychologist.” Sam took a mouthful of spicy milk, considered, swallowed. “Now I think I’ll just marry money.” He winked at Jason. He was not a winker.
“Be careful,” Jason warned. “I might take you up on that.”
“You can take me up on that.” Sam’s gaze held his. “I assume you will eventually.”
“Sure. How’s that going to work with each of us on opposite sides of the country?”
“One of us would have to compromise.”
And when you say one of us…
“Isn’t that what we’re already doing?”
And when I saywe…
Sam said, “It’s not possible for me to do my job across country.”
“I know.”
“There isn’t an ACT in the country that wouldn’t jump at having you onboard.”
“That’s not true. For one thing, there aren’t ACT openings anywhere right now. Even if there were…”
“You wouldn’t want to leave LA.” It wasn’t a question. Sam’s voice had a note of finality.
Jason did not want to leave LA. That was true. But the reasons he didn’t want to leave wouldn’t mean much to Sam. Sam had no problem living eighteen hundred miles from his mother. In fairness, Sam’s mother was a lot younger than Jason’s parents. Jason had been a surprise baby, arriving after his sisters had reached adulthood. His parents were healthy but elderly.
Jason loved his little house by the canal. Sam was as equally at ease living out of a hotel room as at his Stafford, Virginia apartment.
Jason liked and valued his LA team members—well, the point was, Jason didn’t want to move. It was to his advantage professionally and personally to stay right where he was. But the long stretches of separation were killing him.
Even Sam seemed less than content.
“You know,” Jason said, “last time we talked about this—in this very bed—you told me you weren’t sure moving in together was a good idea.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” Sam said. “I’m just sure not moving in together is a fucking terrible idea.”
That was the most vehement Sam had been, and it was a balm on Jason’s sore heart. He moved into Sam’s arms again, and Sam lifted his mug to avoid baptizing Jason in Anijsmelk.
Jason listened to the strong, steady thump of Sam’s heart. It was nice like this. Pleasant. He was relaxed and happy. He didn’t want to do anything to break the mood, but he had to know.
“You never told me why you went hiking at Vedauwoo.”
Sam grunted. His version of ugh. “It’s not a bedtime story.”
Jason raised his head to study the hard lines in Sam’s face. “I still need to know.”
Sam studied him without expression.
Finally, he said, “It looks like Berkle and our unsub met three times over the course of their…careers. On those occasions, they exchanged notebooks. Kill logs. The last batch of those was still in Berkle’s possession when he died.”
“So all the victims were attributed to Berkle?”
Sam moved his head in assent.
“Were they working together?”
“No. It doesn’t appear so. We’re not sure how they connected, but they seemed to have been in contact for a very long period. They compared notes, learned from each other, which is why so many of their kills seemed to share a signature. There’s a lot more that we don’t know than what we do know. What we do know…”
Was terrifying.
Sam didn’t say that, of course. The monsters didn’t terrify Sam, though maybe they should have.
Jason said slowly, “You no longer think Ethan was murdered by the Roadside Ripper.”
“We have—had—two Roadside Rippers.”
“You don’t think Berkle killed Ethan.”
Sam said flatly, “I think Ethan was killed by someone living in Wyoming.”
Jason sat up. “You think Bone Road lives in Wyoming?”
“Yes. There are drawings, sketches in Bone Road’s notebook that indicate to me he wasn’t just passing through.”
“Sketches of Vedauwoo? In connection with Ethan’s murder?”
“It’s the way it looked to me.”
Jason stared at Sam’s impassive features. “Did you find what you were looking for?” His mouth felt dry. “Ethan’s grave?”
No. That didn’t make sense. Ethan’s body had been found.
Or had it?
Sam shook his head. “No.” He added, “I’m not sure that’s what I was looking for. We don’t have a roadmap with names and dates. We’re trying to piece together the visual clues of one offender showing off for another offender. Some of the original notes and drawings were altered, embellished later on.”
Jason thought that over. “What if Ethan is still alive?”