Page 46 of Secrets Along the Shore
I stopped. “I don’t—” Something nagged at me. This was the first time I had actually connected to Sophia’s case personally. Not just because of my own past experiences, but the killer—Sophia’s killer—knewme. Somehow.
“Is it him?” Reuben’s tone was grave. “The Serpent Killer?”
I didn’t miss the edge of hope in his question.
I shook my head. No. Then I reconsidered. Even I had questioned that very thing when the text arrived.
“I don’t know. I don’t—thinkso?” I knew I wasn’t very convincing. I could tell by the long look Reuben gave me. I wish I knew what he was thinking.
Change the subject. It wasn’t healthy, but it was a coping mechanism, nonetheless.
“I had another idea this afternoon,” I started.
Reuben waited and we stood facing each other in the police station lobby.
“What if it was someone small who connects the women?”
“Small?” Reuben’s eyebrows winged upward.
I waved his confusion off. “I mean—ok. I looked in the database at Archer’s and we’ve serviced both Lilian and Rosalie’s home in the past. What if our guy is a plumber, or a repairman, or painter, or cable guy?”
Reuben hefted a sigh and raked his hand through his hair. “We checked for as many of those relationships as we could find. We came up dry. There wasn’t anything to tie the three homes.”
I found that hard to believe only because I was trusting my theory so strongly now. But what had changed? What had changed in the last day to have it all suddenly now have me receiving texts and being tied into it also?
“How would they get my cell number?” I asked.
Reuben’s smile was thin. “There’s a lot of ways to get someone’s number.”
I paced ahead of Reuben, stopped in front of a framed American flag on the wall, and stared at the stars. I had nothing. My mind wasblank. Sophia wasn’t whispering in my ear. I didn’t see Lilian or Rosalie. All I could hear was Reuben’s footsteps on the linoleum as he came up behind me.
“You’re tied to this, Noa.”
“No. I’m not.” I spun around and glared at him. “This has nothing to do with me.” I contradicted my thoughts a moment earlier.
It didn’t.
It couldn’t.
I was in denial.
Or was I?
I had locked my memories away in a vault, yes, but I knew enough to know whenhewas near. And this—this was different. Somehow it wasdifferent. But here I was again, going on feeling and not fact.
“The other night in my apartment, I felt him. I swear I could smell him, Reuben.”
Reuben’s eyes darkened.
“But that text? All of this? All I can think of is Sophia. Sophia and the other women. I keep seeing the lake, and the cattails, and the idea that Sophia wasn’t a planned kill. Not like I was. I promise you. Thisisn’thim.” I heard myself make that promise, and while I had no intention of ever admitting it to Reuben, I wasn’t as confident as I made myself sound.
“Then who is it?” Reuben countered. “It’s someone who at least knowsofyou. Knows you’ve been helping us. You’re a target now, Noa.” He waved my cell phone in my face. “He’s made contact with you.”
“What if—” I hated where my mind went. It replayed this afternoon at work. The spilled water. My search on the computer. The chaos that ensued and all the employees in and out of the office who would have seen my computer screen with Sophia’s home address emblazoned on the screen.
I wouldn’t be able to get it out of my mind now. It was far-fetched and stupid, but I had to ask.
“What if it’s someone at Archer’s?”
