I slid out before I lost my nerve, shut my door like it would protect them, then set off down the path.
The pond was how I remembered it the one time Miss Dotha sent me to fetch Camber after a missed curfew. It wasn’t wide, but it was deep. It saw too much action for scum to thrive on the surface, but a green tint colored the water when sunlight hit it just right. Tonight, with the new moon, the water loomed as black as pitch.
“You did an admirable job of hiding.” The same quiet voice from the phone rode on a warm breeze. “I’m embarrassed how long it took me to find you.”
As far as I could tell, I was alone, but I heard him clear as a bell. “You didn’t find me, though.”
“True.” Distaste twisted the word. “I was forced to get creative.”
“Creative?” I aimed straight for his artist’s ego. “You think killing all those girls makes you creative?”
“The Silver Stag went down in history as one of the most notorious serial killers of our time, but that title was earned on sheer numbers alone. There was no art in what he did. There was only hunger for power. But he lacked the stomach for the job. He transformed his prey into animals to strip them of humanity.”
“Nice theory.” I tried homing in on his voice. “I read his profile too.”
A crow’s loud cawing rent the night and blasted shivers down my spine.
“I elevated his primitive methodology but was forced to retain certain key aspects to guarantee that the director would reach out to you. See, I had a theory. I believed the director knew exactly where you disappeared to all those years ago. But he proved resistant to involving you. I had to resurrect the killer all fae parents had come to fear in order to force his hand, and here you are.”
“You got me.” I spread my hands. “Now what do you want?”
“Colby Timms.”
From high above me, mocking laughter rained down from the crow.
Normal crows didn’t laugh in perfect sync with villain monologues. “Nice familiar you’ve got there.”
The killer wasn’t in the mood to be distracted, but all I had to do was find the right topic. Talking kept him from wrapping this up, and that was the best I could do until Asa got in place. Backup wouldn’t cure all my woes, but it would give me a morale boost to know I wasn’t alone.
“Why the processor?”
“Hearts aren’t the only parts of the body rich in nutrients and power. Thaddeus has a taste for livers.”
The crow squawked in eager agreement, or at the sound of his name. Either way, it was creepy as heck.
Wrong topic.
This one made my stomach turn when I needed to be ice cold, not fever hot with rage for his victims.
“Why wait ten years to get creative with finding me?”
“I invested several years in staging my death. The director is a cautious man, and he held my true name. I had to be careful when I orchestrated a fitting end in the line of duty so that I would be clear for recruitment under a new face. I would have preferred thirteen years, as I’m sure you would have guessed, but I grew impatient.”
“You made mistakes.”
“Agent Kidd noticed Thaddeus was present in all his films. I got close to Kidd, to determine what he knew, but I overplayed my hand. He began to suspect me. I had no way of knowing if he shared his suspicions with anyone else, and I couldn’t risk it. He hadn’t been in the system long. He was eager to please. Eager to belong. He thought the Bureau would provide him with a surrogate pack.”
A twist in my chest allowed the floodgates of guilt to swing wide open.
His use of the past tense told me all I needed to know about Kidd.
He was dead.
The copycat had killed him.
And we hadn’t even tried to save him.
I wrote Kidd off as a bad apple at the first opportunity then left him to rot in the barrel.