Page 97 of Capturing You
“Maybe OCD? It’s just odd that he’d always draw the same thing. Six times in one journal, which was written over the course of months.”
He saw her point.
“It must mean something.” She nodded to the pile of manila folders Forbes had yet to put away. “Did you see similar doodles in any of his other papers?”
He thought back to the reading he’d done for days on end. He’d been focused on the words, not the scribbles. But there had been some. And if Brooklynn was right, then they might mean something. “I wasn’t paying attention. We can look for them after we go through the ledger.”
She turned the page. “This is a list of letter pairings.”
“Yeah, I saw.” Similar to the notations on the previous page, these had not all been written at once. They were in different ink colors and thicknesses, some more legible than others, as if his father had jotted them down over time. “They’re not abbreviations for any weights or measures, as far as I can tell. I doubt they’re federal agencies, since most of those have three or more letters. Maybe they’re state agencies?”
She tapped one of the pairings. “No states begin with B.”
“Are you sure?” He reached for his laptop to ask AI.
Brooklynn said, “Alabama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, California…”
She knew the states. In alphabetical order.
“Areyouon the spectrum?”
She laughed. “We had to memorize them in grade school, and once I commit something to memory, it’s there forever.”
He’d memorized his share of useless stuff, but he’d let most of it go years ago. “Let’s say they’re people’s initials,” he said. “That eliminates hundreds of millions of people. In a world of eight billion, that’s not exactly helpful.”
“Right.” She bit her bottom lip. “If some are locals, then G.P. could be Graham Porter.”
The hotel owner. “Or George Parker. Or Gigi Perkins.”
Brooklynn ignored him. “Is that an E?”
“Looks like E.H. Could be your friend Elvis, the flower child.”
“She wouldn’t be involved in drug trafficking.”
“Not all bad guys wear black hats, Brooklynn. And not all bad guys areguys.”
She flashed a glare. “I know that. I also know Elvis. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Maybe, but she could’ve been involved, not knowing the danger she was putting people in. We don’t even know what this list is about. Maybe it’s victims. Or customers.”
“So Elvis was a…a pusher?”
“It’s possible.” Forbes jotted both Graham’s and Elvis’s names in his notebook, then pointed at the next letter pairings. She couldn’t identify an N.P, an L.S., or a B.D.
The next pairing caught his eye. “O.T. Didn’t you say something about an Owen?”
“Owen Stratton, Delaney’s boyfriend. He would’ve been about five at the time.”
“Probably not our killer, then. What about…Taggart? His father’s name is…?”
“Leonard—Leo. Lenny is named after him.”
“No names starting with O? Lenny’s mom, maybe?”
“His mother left when he was little. Lenny respects his dad, but he told me once that he blames him for the divorce. Apparently, Leo was unfaithful, which doesn’t surprise me.”
“Why do you say that?”
