Page 54 of The Truth You Told

That last woman, the one who would have been the Alphabet Man’s next kill, hadn’t actually died. So that meant their second author—copycat or whatever they were—had killed three people over the span of four years. Shay and then the two male victims. The difference was profound.

The fact that the last letter was probably written by their second author meant that the person had likely saved the woman’s life and ended a five-year-long manhunt for an infamous serial killer in the process.

The implications of that were big enough to send her pulse skittering.

Calm down.Go through the process.

She shifted through the files until she found more information about the last letter. It was directed to Kilkenny—or, rather, Callum, a notable departure from Conrad’s letters—but it had been addressed to the FBI Houston field office.

The victim was Conrad’s, but the letter was from their second author. So had their second author intercepted Conrad’s letter, or had that person beaten Conrad to the punch?

And if it was the latter, how had their second author known who the victim would be?

Raisa sat back and the pieces of the case rearranged themselves in her mind, but all she came up with were more questions.

What the hell was going on here?

Her phone buzzed on the table. She jumped and then laughed at herself, her nerves frayed.

“Beau wasn’t at home,” Kilkenny said, once she answered. “Looks like he closed up house and left.”

Dear Callum.How many people called Kilkenny that?

His brother-in-law, surely. His sister-in-law.

His wife.

“Do you think that means anything?” Raisa asked.

“I don’t know,” Kilkenny said. “I thought for sure he’d attend the execution.”

“Avoiding you?” she offered.

“Maybe.” He paused. “And obviously I didn’t get Max’s address.”

Both of Shay’s siblings, siblings who by all accounts would doanythingfor each other, were missing. That seemed ... important. But she couldn’t figure out how to fit it into what they knew about the case.

Kilkenny made some guttural sound that she could easily translate as anger and frustration and helplessness made vocal. It built into a tidal wave, crashing over both of them.

She let him ride it out, here in the safety of an open line, with her as the only witness. It was the best-case scenario, and of course Kilkenny had retained enough composure to wait until now to lose it.

The emotions retreated nearly as quickly as they had come, and Kilkenny dropped silent before uttering, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be?” Raisa tried quietly. “I’ve been worried you’ve been holding it together too well.”

He laughed. “Well, I’ve gone ahead and disabused you of that notion.”

“Nah, that was nothing,” she said, her tone light. But she meant it. Isabel had thrown Raisa into such a tailspin, she’d barely been functioning. And here Kilkenny was taking thirty seconds to vent his frustration before pulling himself together again.

“Right,” he said, not sounding like he believed her. “Right. Tell me what you’ve got.”

“I don’t know yet,” Raisa hedged, not really lying. Her thoughts were scattered, and even if she tried to put them into words, she didn’t think she could.

“Do you need me?” he asked.

Raisa stared at the letters.Dear Callum.

What did that mean? Did it mean anything? Did it mean anything that their second author had essentially turned the Alphabet Man into the authorities?

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