Page 77 of Girl, Fractured

‘He emailed me, initially.Then we spoke on the phone.’

‘Did he ever say how he wrote his manuscript?Like, on a laptop?Tablet?’

‘Desktop,’ Malcolm said.‘These certainly are odd questions.’

So, he did have a computer, Ella thought.And she guessed that the killer removed it because this manuscript had been written on it, and was presumably still saved on it.

But why didn’t the killer want anyone finding this manuscript, especially as the historical details around the Marlowe and Ferryman cases were made obvious at Frank and Diana’s scenes.And given that the so-called Crucifixion Murder of 1986 was so obscure, the killer had to be someone who’d read Thomas’s manuscript.

‘How many people at your publishing house would have read Thomas’s work?’she asked.

‘Two.Just me and the commissioning editor.’

‘Have you ever met Thomas?’

‘No.We’re based in Manhattan.The closest we got to meeting is video calling.’

She mentally mapped the geography.Manhattan to Pinellas County was over a thousand miles.Commercial flight.Rental car.Hotel paper trail.The logistics alone made Malcolm and the commissioning editor unlikely candidates for Thomas Webb’s murder, not to mention the other two victims.This killer had to be local.Someone with intimate knowledge of the victims, their obsessions and their vulnerabilities.

Who else would have read this God damn book?

Her brain threw fragments at her like shrapnel until she realized the obvious.Publishers.Other publishers.Thomas Webb wouldn’t send his passion project to just one potential buyer.

‘Malcolm, do you know if Thomas shopped his manuscript around?’

‘I’m sure he did.’

It was a long shot, but long shots scored the best goals.‘Do you have any idea which publishers he sent it to?’

‘Publishers generally don’t discuss submissions,’ Malcolm said.‘Confidentiality agreements and all that.’

‘Please, sir.This is crucial.I need to know whose read this book, because somebody may think this manuscript is worth killing for.’

Malcolm went quiet.Ella could picture him now, maybe sitting at home, probably glancing around with newfound terror that being adjacent to a real-life murder could somehow put him in the crosshairs too.

‘I… don’t know what to tell you.’

‘You could help us catch a serial offender, sir.If you need to verify my identity before you give anything out, we can do that, but I need this information quickly.’

‘I just searched your name online.I believe you are who you say you are, but I would be violating privacy agreements if I-’

Ella had paced herself out of the kitchen and into the living room.‘Malcolm, three people are dead.I’m looking at Thomas Webb’s blood smears right now, and you’re worried about industry politics.’The comment came out sharper than Ella intended, honed on the whetstone of frustration.

The hallway clock ticked five times before Malcolm spoke again.‘Very well.Bear with me a moment.’

‘Thank you.’Ella had no idea if Malcolm would have any insight into Thomas Webb’s submission history or not.Thomas could have queried dozens of agents or publishers before landing at Talisman House.She heard the faint sound of typing down the line.

‘Hold on.Just going through my correspondence with Thomas.I must say, this is all a lot to take in.’

‘I’m sure it is, sir.I’m sorry to burden you with this so suddenly.’

‘I understand.I only hope that…’ Malcolm trailed off.More typing down the line.‘Wait a minute.I’ve got exactly what you need here.’

Ella’s pulse rate spiked.‘You do?’

‘Yes I do.In my initial conversation with Thomas, he told me where else he’d pitched to.It’s quite common, in case of acceptance elsewhere.’

‘Can you list the publishers for me?’

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