Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“The thing that goes against that theory,” Kat said, “is that the two crimes Mother committed are very different. Stabbings are incredibly violent and bloody.”
“Because he was being actively abused, actively hurt, in those two instances,” Sienna said. “Maybe he snapped, and the only way he could follow through with protecting himself was if he created this fictional ‘Mother’ who actually never existed at all.”
“A modern-day Norman Bates.”
“I’m not suggesting he really thinks he’s her or is even under the impression she’s real. But in the moment, she helped him do what he needed to do to stop his tormenter.”
“Plural,” Kat reminded. “Tormentors. Some people are monster magnets.”
Sienna winced. What a horrid thought that those easy to victimize had a smell to them, easily detectable by human beasts. She moved her mind away from that terrible possibility. “Okay. So why is he strangling others now?”
“That’s the million-dollar question. It’s not because they’re abusing him. He planned these murders well in advance.”
Sienna thought back to Professor Vitucci’s profile, filtering through it in her mind. What are we missing? “Professor Vitucci was helpful when I called him earlier,” she said. “We could see if he has some ideas about this.”
“Sure. The more help the better. We’re going to be here for a little while longer anyway,” Kat said.
Sienna nodded. They would stay until the criminalists finished their initial collection. She dialed Professor Vitucci’s number, and he answered right away.
“Hello, Professor. It’s Detective Walker. Again. I feel like I’m becoming a pest.”
He laughed softly. “Not at all. It’s good to feel useful. And it’s nice to feel part of a team again. I received the most recent pieces of writing you emailed and read through them earlier. What can I help you with?”
“Well, we’re almost positive we found our suspect,” she said. “He led us straight to his house, where the body we are assuming belongs to his father was found in an upstairs bedroom.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Anyway”—she glanced at Kat—“Detective Kozlov and I were theorizing, and a question arose. Can I put you on speaker?”
“Absolutely.”
She pressed the speaker button, holding the phone between her and Kat. “Hi, Professor.”
“Detective Kozlov,” he greeted.
Sienna paused for only a moment. “Professor, is it possible that Mother is really him? He seems to have ‘lost consciousness’ both times she showed up to save him.”
He was silent for a moment. “So Mother doesn’t exist?” he asked.
“Right. He kind of . . . conjures her when he needs protection. It’s him, only he’s playing a role so he’s able to follow through.”
Professor Vitucci was silent for another long moment, and Sienna swore she could hear his brain clicking over the phone lines as he obviously pondered her question.
“There are oddities in his story regarding Mother,” he said. “Things that don’t add up.”
“What did you see?” Kat asked.
“She’s too perfect. Her reactions aren’t in line with what’s happening. She’s a sort of Stepford wife. It was my original assumption that he was idealizing her, but what you say is possible too. He’s inserting her as his savior because he either cannot accept or does not want to accept that he did the things he did.”
“Or maybe,” Sienna said, meeting Kat’s eyes, “at the time he wasn’t ready to take responsibility for those crimes, and so he created this Mother figure?”
“It’s definitely plausible,” Professor Vitucci said. “I would hasten to guess, though, that if she did not exist in those particular instances, Mother is still based on someone very real.”
Sienna and Kat thanked the professor and ended the call. Kat saw someone she knew and excused herself for a moment, which gave Sienna time to filter through what the professor had said and everything they’d learned since they’d arrived at this house. Father. Mother. Danny Boy. Mr. Patches. Oliver. Ollie. She walked to the porch railing and looked out to the residential street beyond.
She tapped at the wood, thinking about what she and the professor had just talked about, then she considered the portion of note in the Monopoly box. Another thing about it bothered her too. Her personal familiarity with the mention of potpourri and lemon-scented spray.
Mother-ish things, she supposed, but they reminded her of Mirabelle, and she couldn’t shake the feeling it was a clue she was meant to recognize. Although he’d mentioned homemade doughnuts, too, and Mirabelle had never made those to her knowledge.
Either way, she knew one thing for certain. They were there, at his house, because Danny Boy wanted them to be there. His game wasn’t yet over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Mirabelle’s hand shook as she set the pen back down on the counter. She’d been trembling all day, ever since she’d left Sienna’s. Ever since she’d seen her notes on the kitchen table.
She’d immediately felt sick and distraught, and yet . . . underneath that, a wild hope had also flapped its caged wings. Not knowing what to do or even if she was right, she’d come home and re-created the notes so she could go over them, evaluating whether she was jumping to conclusions.